THE DANCING GOAT.
BY MRS. T. W. DEWING.
See! This Italian boy,
Much to the children's joy.
Has taught his goat
With the furry coat
To caper and prance
To the tune of a dance,
While he will play
All a summer's day
On his mandolin
His bread to win.
At night he'll lie
'Neath the open sky,
With the grass for bed,
And beneath his head
For pillow the goat
With the furry coat,
And sleep till day,
When again he'll play
On his mandolin
His bread to win.
[OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
What fun it is to pack a trunk! Is it not, little travellers? And how much more troublesome the packing is when you are coming home than it was when you were going away! So many pretty things collected during the summer are to be carried safely, so that the dear ones at home may see them, and that they may adorn brackets and corners, and make rooms beautiful the whole winter long. I hope the children who are going back to school with brown faces and rosy cheeks are all ready to pack away plenty of learning in the little minds, which are not precisely like trunks. You may get a trunk so full that it can hold no more; but a healthy boy and girl can never fill his or her mind so full of useful knowledge that there will not be room for something else.
So, little folks, trip merrily to school, and show how much you have enjoyed your play by working like beavers, bees, and birds, building character, gathering honey, and singing cheerily all the while.
Amherst, Massachusetts.
I am a boy eight years old, and I want to write you a letter about my little kitten Daisy. I made a little house out of a box, and I made steps for her to go in the house, and I put it out in the wood-shed. I put her in front of the steps, and she walked right in and went to sleep, and now she sleeps there always. Last Sunday evening she caught her first mouse, and she played with it for a long time, and when it was dead she tried to make it alive again by tossing it up in the air. This is all I have to say this time, but if you like I will write to you again.
Rufus Tyler L.
You were a clever boy to make a house for your kitty. A friend of mine took pity one cold winter on a wandering cat that had no home. As the ladies of the family did not want to take so forlorn and wild a thing in-doors, this kind man set a box in the yard, put some straw in it for a bed, and every day placed a saucer of milk or a plate of food beside it for the poor hungry puss. Like your kitty, this one learned to know her own house, and grew quite plump and handsome, as well as tame, under the gentle treatment.
Cottage City, Martha's Vineyard.
My mother, father, brother, and myself are spending the summer at Cottage City. Last Saturday we joined an excursion to Gay Head. Gay Head is on the other end of the island. We enjoyed the steamboat ride through Vineyard Sound, although the scenery was not very pretty. We were obliged to land in row-boats, which were managed by natives. These natives are a cross between the negro and American Indian; they are generally very homely, with the exception of the children, who soon lose their prettiness, judging by the looks of their elders. We walked some distance along the beach before we came to the cliffs. These cliffs extend about half a mile along the shore, and are formed entirely of different-colored clay—green, yellow, red, blue, white, and brown. The red resembled sunburned rocks, only much brighter; the yellow looked from a distance as if a load of sand had been dumped there, and rolled half-way down the cliffs; the white was very pure and dazzling, and with the dark green bayberry growing on it, the effect was very fine. We went into the light-house and saw the light, which belongs to the first class. The keeper said it flashed in ten seconds, and revolved in four minutes. He has to wind it up every hour. While in the light-house the steamer began to whistle, so we had to hurry back, as we did not wish to get left. We found the sail home rather tiresome, and were glad enough when the Seaview wharf hove in sight. I am afraid that the Postmistress will think this too long to print. If she does not, I will write again, and tell about my excursion to Nantucket. Good-by.
A. B.
Yes, dear, write again. Letters which describe what you see, and tell where you go, are very welcome.
Oswego, New York.
I wish some of the boys and girls who write to you could see my room. The ceiling is papered with nursery papers; then there is a border of Japanese pictures, and the rest of the wall is entirely covered with advertisement cards, some of which I bought and some of which were given me. I have a large cupboard in my room, and that is covered with the same cards. I have over two thousand cards on the wall. I have been to New York this summer, and visited on Governor's Island. I saw Generals Hancock and Sherman, and the former gave me an orange. I am seven years old, and although I have never been to school or studied much at home, I have learned to read. I have been reading Boys of '76 and Old Times in the Colonies, and like both very much. I went to Coney Island in June, and came very near being lost or stolen. I have over two hundred little soldiers, and have fun having battles with them. I hope you will publish this very soon, and excuse me for writing such a long letter.
L. W. M.
Your room must be very beautiful, dear. It is what we call unique, and I think it must be quite gay and rainbow-like. I am glad you were neither lost nor stolen at Coney Island.
Waco, Texas.
I am a resident of St. Louis, and am spending my school vacation in Texas, where I am visiting a brother. I have taken Young People since its first number, and have often wanted to write a letter to the other boys. I left St. Louis July 5, coming through the State of Missouri, and down through the Indian Nation, the prettiest country I ever saw. I came the entire distance alone. I like Texas very much, and will probably stay here until Christmas. The Brazos River runs through the town, dividing it into East and West Waco. It is spanned by one suspension-bridge and two railroad bridges. This is one of the prettiest places in the State.
Lewis M. H.
I like to hear from a self-reliant and manly little fellow who is able to take care of himself on a journey.
Hudson, New York.
I'm going to send a letter to you, but I don't know exactly what I'm going to say until I think of it as I go. I live on the banks of the Hudson River. The mowing-machine is just cutting down the grass. The view is beautiful from here, but still more beautiful from Mr. Church's, who lives on the hill. I haven't many pets to tell you about, except two canary-birds, and a lamb that is hardly a lamb now, but a full-grown sheep.
Nelly G. E. (not yet six years old.)
I suppose little Nelly sometimes climbs the hill to gaze with her own bright eyes at the golden sunsets which Mr. Church looks at from his pleasant home, and then paints so beautifully for the rest of us to enjoy. Do you know, dear, that the best letters ever written are written in your way—just by thinking what to say as you go on?
Hillsdale.
I thought I would write you a letter to let you know how much I like to read Young People. I think it is a very good paper, and I watch every week for the number to come. The first piece I read is "Mr. Stubbs's Brother." I think a good deal of a good circus. Jimmy Brown's stories are very interesting. We have a pet crow; he is very tame. He flies all over the farm, and goes wherever he pleases. He is afraid of other crows. When they come too close, he flies to the house if he is not too far away. He likes to follow along in the corn field, and pick up the bugs and worms. Good-by.
John S. R.
Is your crow afraid of a scarecrow? I suppose you will be surprised, but I once had a pet crow of my own. He was as black as black could be, and oh! such a mischief, and so fond of stealing things and hiding them. His favorite perch was on the sewing-machine. I was very, very glad when one day Mr. Crow flew over the hills and far away, and never came back. In which State is your Hillsdale, John? You forgot to tell me.
Baltimore, Maryland.
My grandpa has moved his house down near to ours. First they put great beams under the house, and wooden rollers under them, and then they built a platform in front of it to roll it on. Then they fastened a chain to the house, and a rope to the chain, and then a horse pulled it round a block and tackle. My grandma came out here to-day and took me to ride. When my birthday comes I am going to have a little party, and give the children presents instead of having people give me things, and I am making some balls for some of the boys. My papa has taken Harper's Young People for me ever since its beginning. I like Toby Tyler very much, and I hope his circus will not come to an end. I wish that lady who wrote the letter about the hospital for little children would write another one. I have a bird and a cat. When I give my cat anything to eat, he tries to get it before I can put the plate on the ground. I went to Luray this summer and took my doll, and it took me a long time to get her ready. The next time I write I will tell you about the cave I went into. I guess I am getting sleepy now, and I want to go to bed, and I will end off my letter by saying, "Won't you please print this in Harper's Young People?"
I send you a picture of my bird and cat. I am seven years old, but I can only write printing letters, so mamma wrote this for me.
Evalina Carroll S.
Thank you for the pretty picture. I like your idea of making others happy on your birthday. A sweet Bible verse tells us that it is more blessed to give than to receive. How much you must have enjoyed watching the moving of grandpa's house! Were you frightened when you explored the Luray Cave?
Charlotte, New York.
We are spending the summer at Lake Ontario, and see a great number of butterflies fluttering along the road-side, and over the fields. Reading the article in No. 142 of Young People on butterflies, my brother and I started a collection. We have caught several specimens of Papilio turnus and Papilio asterias. We also caught a beautiful butterfly which is not described in Young People. Its wings are velvety black, and the hind-wings are tailed. The fore-wings are marked with rows of greenish-yellow spots on the margin, and the hind-wings with rows of spots of a peculiar green (called gas green, I believe), and above the spots is a large irregular spot covering two-thirds of the wing. We have only one specimen of those yellow butterflies spoken of. They are very plentiful, but I find them hard to catch, as they take alarm very quickly. About four o'clock in the hot afternoons we go over to the edge of the woods, where there is a break in the trees, and the grass is deep, and find quantities of tawny orange butterflies marked with black on the upper side and silver on the under. The black and green butterfly that we caught was prettier on the under side than it was on the upper. Its hind-wings were marked underneath with light blue, silver, and orange. I hope that my letter is not too long.
Winifred J. B.
Macon Station, Alabama.
I like the stories written by Jimmy Brown very much. I am very much interested in "Mr. Stubbs's Brother." We have three kittens, and their names are Toby, Abner, and Mr. Stubbs. While my sister and brother were out driving one evening they heard a kitten crying behind them, and brother got out, picked it up, and brought it home. Mr. Stubbs is very playful. I have a pet lamb and a pet chicken. The lamb's mother died when it was very young, so I took it, and it is a large lamb now. I raised the chicken myself too. I had a calf, but it died. I was twelve years old the third day of June. I have three brothers and two sisters. All of us read Young People except the two youngest.
Susie B. R.
"A snow-white mountain lamb, with a maiden by its side." Do you say, "Drink, pretty creature, drink," to your lamb, as Barbara Lethwaite does in Wordsworth's poem?
Jersey City, New Jersey.
We are a little brother and sister seven and five years old. Papa buys Harper's Young People for us, and mamma reads the stories first, and then tells us what she thinks we can understand. We had a pair of rabbits sent to us from Indianapolis last year, but they were so much trouble we gave them away; we had a little turtle no larger than a twenty-cent piece, but that is dead; it lived two years. The sweetest pet we ever had was our dear little brother Arthur. He died last November, and we all miss him very much. He was so cunning! He was one year and a half old. We have never written to Young People before, and hope this will be published.
Harry and Emily F.
A baby brother is indeed a darling, and the best of pets. I am very sorry your little Arthur died.
Rockport, Massachusetts.
I thought I would write to you to tell you about my dolls. I have four; three of them are wax and one is china. One of the wax ones is nearly two years old, and I like her the best of all. She has curly hair all over her head, and can open and shut her eyes. Her name is Bessie B. Stamford. My next oldest doll is Kitty C. Stamford. She has light hair, which she wears braided down her back. Next comes Gertrude Bell Stamford. Santa Claus gave her to me last Christmas at a Christmas tree in our church. She was sitting in a cunning blue chair. She has dark hair and a bang. My littlest one is a four-cent china doll. Her name is Bertha Agnes Cross. I have a cunning little doll carriage with a canopy top. As I can not write very well myself, my sister is writing this for me. I like to read the letters in Our Post-office Box very much.
Helen E. B.
Isle of Pines, Cuba.
Some time has passed since I have had the pleasure of writing to the Post-office Box. I will begin by telling something about the Isle of Pines, where I am spending some months. The air of this place is very pure and healthy, because there are a great many beautiful pines and warm mineral springs; so a great many sick people come to breathe this delicious air. It is also famous for its exquisite fruits—pine-apples, mangos, and others. When it rains, in less than a half-hour the ground dries, as it is sandy. There are many parrots and mocking-birds and wood-peckers and larks here. The wild flowers are very beautiful, and there is a great variety of them. The "St. Peter" flowers, which grow out of old trees and fences, look like pretty butterflies; some are yellow and white, some rose-color and brown. I send you one to show you how pretty they are.
Mary de A.
Thank you very much for the pretty specimen, which lost none of its beauty on the way to New York, it had been so daintily pressed.
Greenville, New Jersey.
I want to tell all your readers of the beautiful view we have from here. The town is situated between New York and Newark bays. From the back balcony we can look out through the Narrows and see all the shipping, and down the bay, and see the Coney Island steamers, the Staten Island ferry-boats, and the great ocean steamers that come puffing up the bay. We also have a lovely view of Staten Island and Brooklyn. We have delightful bathing in New York Bay and in Newark Bay; it is still. We go in nearly every day, and enjoy it very much. I have a brother Henry who is nine years old, and a sister Hattie, seven years old. Our mamma and papa are both dead, and we live with grandma and uncle. I love to lie in the hammock on the balcony and look out over the bay and watch the sails and row-boats.
Pink B.
La Moille, Illinois.
I feel almost acquainted with you. I have a nice little black dog. I have a cart and harness. I hitch him up, and drive him all around. I had a hard time training him. I have two pet cats; one is Molty White; a little girl in Nebraska gave him to me when he was a kitten. He is a big cat now. My other is a kitten; I call her Het. I also have a pet canary-bird, whose name is Mart. I had a pigeon, and it got out of the box, and flew away. I have a little Leghorn rooster as white as snow, and his comb is as double and as red as a tulip. I had a female canary; she was a lovely singer. Did you ever hear of a female bird singing before? My father is a doctor. There are five doctors in town.
George Iden R.
What a beauty that rooster must be! I'm afraid the little black dog thought he had a hard time when you were training him to act as a pony.
Brandy Station, Virginia.
My first letter was not put in. I thought I would write again. My little sister Alice has a pet duck; it sleeps in mamma's room. One night it slept in mamma's slipper, and another night it got into the baby's crib and slept there all night, and in the morning when mamma took the baby up it cried to get up too. I think that was very cunning. We have three pet chickens. It has been very rainy; it rains nearly every evening. Mamma has some very large spring chickens. We have an old dog fourteen years old. I have five sisters and one brother: Rena Louisa, Sadie Summers, Emily Palmer, Alice Remington, Lilian, and Charles Palmer. Good-by.
Franklin S.
What a droll duck! Please thank sister Rena for her letter. We have not room to print both this time.