FLORRY'S HOOPLE.
Isn't it dreadfully horrid,
Caught in this hoople again?
Here with the sun on my forehead,
Ever so far down the lane.
Caught in this hoople again;
Nurse didn't know I was skipping
Ever so far down the lane,
Hope I'm not in for a whipping.
Where is my bonnet, I wonder?
I think I have dirtied my dress;
Just like a hoop-skirt, ain't it?
Makes me look grown up, I guess.
Yes, I have dirtied my dress;
Pity to vex mamma so;
Yet if I get in a mess
She will forgive me, I know.
Pity to vex mamma so;
Think I'll go home and be sorry;
She will forgive me, I know.
And call me her dear little Florry.
And it is dreadfully horrid,
Here all alone in the lane,
With the hot sun on my forehead,
Caught in my hoople again.
Chicorica Park, Baton, New Mexico.
I am going to tell Harper's Young People about a flood which we had here July 27. It was caused by the breaking of a water-spout, and nearly drowned mamma's gray pony Sally, which was picketed near the creek. It happened in the afternoon. Mamma was reading to us. We could hear the sound of the water coming, but thought it was the rain on the hills. Sarah, our nurse, went out for something, and we followed her and when we got to the door, we saw Sally in trouble, and Sarah ran to see what was the matter. There was Sally in about eight feet of water; she had run down in a gully when she saw the water coming, but she broke her rope and got out, without being hurt much, though the force of the water rolled her over several times. Mamma and Pleasance went further down, and saw the wave coming, and mamma said it was like a great column of muddy water. The flood lasted about twenty minutes, but it did not do us any harm. It took a tub and a hen-coop away, and moved a great many large stones, besides destroying a bridge.
Marian Beatrice M.
Ebensburg, Pennsylvania.
I live in Alleghany City, Pennsylvania, but we came up here in the mountains for the summer. It is very cool and pleasant here, and I like it very much. I have been an invalid for two years, and have to walk on crutches. I can not walk far at a time. I have a chair on wheels in which I ride when I am tired of walking. My brother and I have a pony that we call Daisy. I have a phaeton to drive out in.
I like "The Cruise of the Ghost'" best of all the stories so far. I like the Wiggles very much; mine have appeared in three numbers. I can draw quite well, and I am learning to paint in oil colors. When in the country I try to sketch a little.
Wilfred H.
Swampscott, Massachusetts.
As so many little boys and girls have told about their pets, I thought I would tell about mine. I have a white mouse named Pippo; he is very tame, and I have taught him to jump through a ring. I have a cat named William A. Bolus, and a dog named Dottie Dimple, besides numerous hens and chickens, and a few pigeons. I have a goldfinch named Bright Eyes. Having no brothers or sisters, I think a great deal of my pets.
Lilian C.
Clarkston, Michigan.
I live on a farm, am twelve years old, and have lots of chickens and turkeys, a pet deer, and a pet lamb. We have thirteen cows, and sell cream. The pasture is a distance from the house, so I sometimes go after the cows on horseback. Once, lately, my horse stuck fast in the mire, and another time the horse and I rode straight into a bees' nest. Sometimes I have great trouble in driving home the cows.
Johnnie E. B.
Quincy, Illinois.
I am twelve years old. I am a little cripple, and have not been out of bed for six months, with the hip-disease. I can not move except as others move me. Will some of the young people who read your paper send me something to read, as that is the only amusement I have? We used to live in Chicago, where my father got me books from the public library, but there is no public library here, so I have nothing to read. I shall be very much obliged if some of the little boys and girls who can run about will send me something to amuse me. I have no mother, and my sister takes care of me.
Alfred Judd.
Centre Dale, Rhode Island.
I read all of "Toby Tyler," and am very glad Mr. Otis is writing another story. I liked "The Cruise of the 'Ghost,'" and it reminded me of a boat my brothers and I made last summer. We built a raft seventeen feet long and four feet wide. We made oars, and went rowing after pond-lilies; and when we reached a place in the river where we could dive, we would jump into the water, and have a good swim. I am ten years old, and am learning to ride. I like to read the letters in the Young People, and so thought that perhaps some little boys would like to read what I have written.
J. C. B., Jun.
Your brother Walter's letter came safely with yours, but we could not give space to both.
Baraboo, Wisconsin.
Having seen a letter from Blanche P. in No. 92, I thought that I too would send a letter from our town.
I went yesterday to the Devil's Lake, which is about three miles from here. It is surrounded by bluffs. On one side of the lake there is a large hotel called the Cliff House, where a hundred guests from all parts of the country are being entertained. But the other side is generally chosen by picnickers. It is called Kirkland, because it is owned by a man whose name is Kirk.
Arriving at 7 o'clock a.m. at Kirkland, we went over to Sandy Beach, a place famous for bathing. From there we strolled to Alaska Grotto, which is a kind of little cavern in the rocks, where it is as cold as ice. In the afternoon we went in bathing, and had a ride on the lake in a row-boat to a little log-cabin owned by a club of gentlemen.
At Kirkland there are four cottages, and a large house called the Pavilion, all of which are furnished with dishes, cot beds, etc., and rented to persons who wish them at so much a week.
Sadie H.
Cortland, New York.
We live a mile from the village. We have a great black curly Newfoundland dog named Bruno, who is very nice, but runs off to the village whenever he can get a chance. We have two canary-birds, two cats, two horses, and a colt.
Allie B.
Huntsville, Alabama.
I have wanted to write a letter to Young People ever since I first subscribed to it, but mamma thought I wrote too badly. I am very glad that another story is to be published by the author of "Toby Tyler," as that is my favorite story. My little brother has the smallest pony I ever saw. It is so gentle that he can easily catch and ride it, though he is only seven years old. I am nine, and have never yet been to school.
Ellen W. W.
Luzerne, Switzerland.
A hard trip we had across the English Channel from Southampton to Havre, and then we had a half-hour trip in a steamboat over to Trouville. We staid a week there, till we found a pretty chalet in Villers-sur-Mer, called "Chalet des Bosquets," where we kept house for three weeks, and went to the beautiful beach every day, and found shells and petrified things. The Normandy peasants were great fishers; even the women were out in deep water catching shrimps and crabs. The summer weather coming on, we hurried through Paris to Switzerland, spending one night in Bâle. We are in Luzerne for five weeks, and have been all over the place, have seen the old walls, the bridge of the "Dance of Death," Thorwaldsen's "Lion," in memory of the brave Swiss guards slain in defending Louis XVI. in 1792. We read Schiller's "William Tell," and have seen his chapel on the lake, as we visited Seelisberg, high up on a high hill, with beautiful pine forests, and a lovely view.
Harry G.
Grahamville, Florida.
Every winter flocks of paroquets fly about, and last year we had one for a pet. We fed him on cockle-burrs and sugar-cane, and cold mornings he would sit under the stove with the cats. Sometimes he would slip away, and once he staid out all night. In the morning we heard him calling, went out, and brought him in. We have had ripe figs this summer. They are very nice when eaten fresh from the tree. I was eight years old last May.
E. Pearl F.
New York City.
I am eleven years old, and my brother is seven years. I had a sweet little baby brother, and he was so pretty and cunning that every one loved him. He had golden curls, and could say everything, although he was not yet two years old. He died on the 19th of July last, and we all miss him. I think "Tim and Tip" promises to be splendid.
John H. B.
Lynn, Pennsylvania.
I think I ought to write something for Harper's Young People, because I look just like Toby Tyler. My hair is red, my face is freckled, and I have an Uncle Dan'l, only I don't live with him. I have a black cat; its name is Tish, and it has two little kittens.
I have three big brothers. One of them has been to Colorado. He came home last winter, and brought nearly a trunkful of specimens.
I liked "Toby Tyler" the best of any of the stories, but I think Jimmy Brown is cute, and I was sorry he made such "A Terrible Mistake." My sister writes this for me, because I'm too small to do it.
Dannie D.
Hillsboro, Missouri.
My sister and I take Young People, and love it dearly. We always look for it on Thursday. We enjoy reading the letters in the Post-office Box. My sister is twelve, and I am nine years old. We have three brothers younger than ourselves. I saw a letter in one of our papers written by a little boy who signed his name Frankie Thomas, which is the very same name as that of our youngest brother. We have talked a great deal about it, and we wonder if he is as sweet and pretty as our dear little Frankie is.
Essie T.
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
I am a little girl six years old. I can not read very much yet, so my mamma reads Young People to me. I have a little brother Arthur; he is in the country now. I would rather stay with my mamma. Before we moved to the city we had a black dog named Prince, who would play "hide-and-seek" with us, and would always find us. I had a dear little pussy named Flossie, but she died. She used to curl herself up in my hat and go to sleep. I have four dolls, and lots of treasures. When I am old enough I will write a letter myself.
Gertrude.
In the little letter which accompanied the stanzas which follow the writer said:
My mamma has written some verses for my little brother and sister and myself, and I think they are very sweet. Mamma has been very sick, and not able to read or write for eight years, and she had to write these verses by feeling, as she can not look over and write them. I am eight years old, and my home is in Eatonton, Georgia. My name is
Marribel E.