AS RELATED IN A LETTER FROM BESSIE MAYNARD TO HER DOLL CLYTEMNESTRA, WHOM SHE LEFT AT HOME.
Old Orchard Beach, July, 1880.
My Dearest Clytemnestra,—Do you miss me? and are you wondering why I do not write? Well, my dear, writing is an impossibility when one is at the sea-shore. You never knew such times as we are having all day long. I must tell you, first of all, of an adventure that befell me yesterday—not me exactly, either; it most befell Lucille, the beautiful Paris doll that Fanny Bell was so proud of; and well she might be, for a handsomer creature never walked. You remember her, of course; the lovely Mademoiselle Lucille, as she was called, that being the French for Miss, for it would never do to call her plain Lucille, such a fine young lady as she was, just from France, with all the airs and graces that belong to Paris, the politest city in the world. It's no great wonder she was proud—Lucille, I mean—for I'm afraid most of us would be if we looked like her. Such hair as she had, all natural curls down below her waist; and such a nelegant wardrobe, or "trooso," as Fanny calls it. Perhaps I haven't spelled trooso right, but please excuse it; indeed, you wouldn't know whether it was right or wrong, you are such a poor little ignorant thing. I'm ashamed of myself for neglecting your education as I have done, when I see the dolls here, and realize how much they know. Just as soon as I get home, we'll begin with regular lessons every day. It isn't your fault, you sweet lamb, that you don't know anything. I am the only one to blame, and I'll try to make up for lost time when I come home.
But, dear me, how I do run on, without telling you a word of the adventure. The "sad sea waves" put all sorts of ideas into my mind, and I get terribly confused. I heard a lady sing last night about the "sad sea waves," and I think it sounds prettier than "the ocean"—don't you? Well, to begin at the beginning: Yesterday morning Fanny Bell, Dora Mason, and I went down to the beach as usual, Mademoiselle Lucille walking along by her mamma, just like a real live beautiful child. We scooped holes in the warm sand, and made caves, and then we built the Pyramids. They are in Egypt, you know, curiosities that people go to see; but we make them of sand, so they look just exactly like the pictures, "Sfinks" and all. Perhaps you don't know what the "Sfinks" is, but I will tell you some day, when I begin your education, my poor Clytemnestra.
Well, at last we wanted to go round the point to pick some wild morning-glories, so we sat Lucille up on a kind of throne behind the Pyramids, and left her. We were only gone a little bit of a while, but what do you think? when we came back the tide was in, and the sad sea waves had washed away Pyramids, Sfinks, Lucille, and all! Oh, the despair we were in! Poor Fanny jumped right up and down, and screeched, and then sinking down upon the sand, as the story-books say, "she buried her face in her hands, and wept as if her heart would break." All at once I saw something bobbing around, and if there wasn't Lucille about four feet from the shore, fastened to a rock by the flounce of her pink satin dress! Fanny shrieked aloud, but Dora and I seized a pole, and after working a long, long time, we managed to fish her out of the water. Here is a picture that I have drawn to show you how we looked in our awful excitement.
Lucille is frightfully pale to-day, and her curls are gone forever. She is a bald-headed "faded beauty," as a gentleman truly said when he saw her this morning. When I look at her, and remember how fine she used to think herself, I can't help saying, "Well, my dear, 'pride must have a fall.'" I pity her, though, from the very bottom of my heart, for it must be dreadful to be so changed, and all of a sudden, too. I guess we sha'n't have to be so particular any more about calling her "Mademoiselle."
I can not be thankful enough that I left you at home, my sweet Clytie. The sea-shore is a lovely place for children who know how to take care of themselves, but 'tis dreadful dangerous for dolls.
And now good-night, my pet.
Your loving mamma,
Bessie Maynard.
P.S.—Dora has just come in to say that Fanny has changed Mademoiselle's name, and hereafter she is to be called "Jane." Poor thing!
A BABE IN THE WOODS—"I 'ANT TO DO HOME!"
OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.
Syracuse, Nebraska.
We have taken Young People ever since it was published, and we like it very much. I think "The History of Photogen and Nycteris" was the best story of all, but sister Addie likes "Across the Ocean" best, because it teaches her geography.
I have no brother, but three sisters. Addie is thirteen, Mabel is nine, and Sadie is five. I was eleven yesterday.
I live on a farm in Eastern Nebraska, and I take care of the little chickens and turkeys for mamma. I like to do it, for they are so cunning.
I think that the Tree Album would be nice, and I am going to make one. There are a great many trees here. And we have many birds and pretty birds' eggs. I would like to preserve some eggs, only I don't know how. I would be glad if some correspondent would tell me the best way.
I have no pets but cats and kittens, and there are so many of those that mamma votes them a nuisance.
Georgine D.
Poultney, Vermont.
I am ten years old, and my uncle Charlie takes Young People for my sister Daisy and me.
I have a pretty kitty named Dusty, Carlo, a big dog, and Petite, a canary.
We are going to camp out at the Lake in July. Last summer we had a tent, but we are going to have a cottage this year.
H. M. C.
Elizabeth, New Jersey.
I am seven years old. I am living with my grandma in the country. I have thirteen children. They all eat at one table. Minnie, Flora, Daisy, Tally, Mamie, Allie, Lulu, Jennie, Lillie, Annie, Pinkey-Ketto, Harry, and Johnny. My papa likes Daisy best, but I like Minnie.
I have a pet cat named Chubby, a chicken named Drabee, and a hen named Coachee. Uncle has a horse named Dolly, that eats sugar out of my hand, and always when she goes by the window she looks up for a lump of sugar.
I made a little pie a few days ago, which was said to be very good.
My papa reads me the stories and letters in Young People, and I thought I ought to write a letter too.
Gracie.
Stanbridge, Canada.
I am seven years old, and I have a sister twelve years old. Harper's Young People was a Christmas present from our grandpa. I read all the letters in the Post-office Box every week, and I like them the best.
I have a pet dog I call Nestor. He is a spaniel. And I have a bantam hen which has five little chickens. I have also two dear little kittens that I found in the wood-shed.
I am going to school this summer, and I like my studies very much. On my way from school to-day I stopped and picked some strawberries. They are just getting ripe.
Janet M. G.
Trenton, New Jersey.
I am a little girl six years old, and I am going to write and spell this letter all myself. I have three brothers, but no sister. The youngest is a baby one year old. We have a puppy named Nip, and he is full of fun. The other day Lewis was pulling me in our express wagon, and Nip ran after us as if the cart was a carriage and he a grown-up dog.
We are going to the sea-shore this summer, where we expect to have a nice time playing in the sand.
Fanny S. S.
Canton, Illinois.
I tried Bessie L. S.'s recipe for doll's cup-cake, and I thought it was very nice. I have a little brother and a little sister younger than myself. I am eleven. I am always glad when papa brings me home my Young People. I think it is a very nice paper.
Maggie M.
Franklin, Ohio.
My papa made me a Christmas present of Young People, and I like it so much.
I have three pets. One is a little black dog named Aristotle. We call him Tot for short. I have a little kitty named Malty, and an old cat named Tabby. They play very pretty together. I have two nice dolls. One is very handsome. My papa brought her from Paris, and I called her Rosa Bell. The other one's name is Stella.
I live on a hill, and we have beautiful views of the sunset.
Etta D.
Cambridge, Massachusetts.
I am making a collection of birds' eggs. My brother sent some eggs to Alice Paine. I hope she will receive them safely.
We have two cats; one of them is fifteen years old; he is a pure Maltese, with the exception of a few white hairs under his chin. We have a little gray squirrel too, and he is so tame that when my brother opens the door of his cage he will jump out and run all over him.
I should like to know if English sparrows build in trees as robins do.
Daisy R.
English sparrows build in little houses, if kind hands provide them, otherwise they seek out any cozy corner wherever there is a shelf upon which to lodge their nest. They never build in trees. You will find an article about them in Young People No. 14.
Sedalia, Missouri.
I wish to tell Rebecca H. that I tried her recipe for candy, and found it just splendid. I will send Puss Hunter's club a recipe for butter-scotch, and I hope Rebecca H. will also try it, and like it as well as I did hers. I wish she would let me know if she thinks it is good. Here is the recipe: Three table-spoonfuls of molasses, two of sugar, two of water, one of butter; add a pinch of soda before pouring out to cool.
Kittie G.
Brooklyn, New York.
Here is a recipe for apple-cake for Puss Hunter. Take one pint bowl of apples, pare, core, and chop them; then add three cups of cold water, one cup of sugar, one table-spoonful of butter. Bake about twenty minutes in a quick oven.
L. Grace P.
Is this mixture intended as a filling for pie-crust, or as apple jam? In writing out recipes, our young housekeepers must be very careful to omit nothing, and to explain all details, as a slight error may ruin a delicious dish.
Hartford, Ohio.
I like Harper's Young People so much that I wish it would come every day.
Here is a recipe for Puss Hunter. I call it maple candy. One and a half cups of maple syrup, and one-fourth of a cup of vinegar. When I think it is done, I pour it into a buttered dish to cool. Then I pull it till it becomes white. I tried R. C. W.'s recipe for candy, and I think it is very nice. I would like to be a member of the cooking club.
We have two pet bird dogs, two robins, and a canary, and I have about seventy-five little chickens.
Maud K.
Sedalia, Missouri.
I have taken Young People from the first number, and I like it very much.
I have a mocking-bird that is only five weeks old, and I have to feed it.
Here is a recipe for ginger cookies for the cooking club: One cup of lard; one cup New Orleans molasses; one cup New Orleans sugar; two eggs; two-thirds of a cup of boiling-hot water poured over a heaping tea-spoonful of soda, and a little salt. Ginger to taste.
Abbie R.
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
My sister and I tried Fanny S.'s recipe for caramels. The candy was very nice. Here is a recipe for Shrewsbury cake for the cooking club: One cup of butter; three cups of sugar; one and one-half pints of flour; three eggs; one tea-spoonful of royal baking powder; one cup of milk; one tea-spoonful of royal extract of rose. Rub the butter and sugar to a smooth white cream; add the eggs one at a time, beating five minutes between each; then add the flour, well sifted, with the powder and the extract. Add the milk last, and heat until the batter is light and thoroughly mixed. Bake in well-greased cake moulds about forty minutes in a quick oven.
Florence McC.
Frank F. R. sends a recipe for caramels to the cooking club, which is the same as the one from Fanny S. in Post-office Box No. 31, with the addition of three table-spoonfuls of flour.
Rye, New York.
We have about fifty pigeons, and a whole flock of hens, chickens, turkeys, and guinea-fowls. I have a flower garden, and some lovely rose-bushes. I wish some correspondent could tell me how to kill the rose-bugs, and how to tame my pigeons. I am nine years old.
Anna S.
We moved up in the country the 1st of April. I like Young People very much, especially the story of "The Moral Pirates," and the Post-office Box.
I have a little Shetland pony. I called her Bessy. She is less than four feet high. She likes to eat corn.
What can I feed my turtles on?
I am collecting postage stamps, and would like to exchange.
Malcolm Stuart,
Rye, Westchester County, New York.
If you will read former numbers of the Post-office Box, you will find full directions for feeding turtles.
If all the readers of Harper's Young People like to read it as well as I do, they like it well enough to take it forever. Nearly all of the correspondents write about their pets, but I have not one, except my little baby brother, who is nicer to me than all the pets in the world. We have a few roses in bloom, but they are almost all faded now.
If John H. B., of Greensburg, Kentucky, can spare any of his flint arrow-heads, I would be very thankful for one or two, because I never saw but one in my life. I am fourteen years old.
Winifred J. York,
Fort Scott, Bourbon County, Kansas.
I have been making a collection of birds' eggs for about two months, and I have forty-seven different kinds. If any one living in the far West or South would exchange eggs with me, I would be much pleased.
Wallace Ross,
Lock Box 97, Rutland, Vermont.
I am making a collection of birds' eggs, and if any correspondent will send me some plainly marked, I will send some in return. I am also collecting postmarks, and if any one is doing the same, I would be happy to exchange.
James A. Snedeker,
60 Asylum Street, New Haven, Connecticut.
I would like to exchange postage stamps with Sidney St. W. if he will send me his full name, and a list of what stamps he would like. I live at No 26 West Nineteenth Street, New York city, but during the summer my address is,
John Rice Blake,
Old Cliff House, Newport, Rhode Island.
I am making a collection of pens. I have seventy-seven different kinds, and if any little boys or girls have any strange or rare specimens of pens they do not wish to keep, I wish they would kindly send them to me.
R. Comfort, Franklin Avenue,
near 169th Street, New York City.
I think Young People is a real nice paper for girls and boys. Whenever it comes I always read all the letters in the Post-office Box, and I thought I would write too, and tell you about our pet colt. It follows papa all round, and once it went after him clear up in town, and into a store. When it was born its mother died, so papa has to raise it the best way he can. One time he let it run round for a little exercise, and when he wanted to put it in the stable, the colt put its fore-feet on the gate and tried to jump over, but its hind-foot caught, and it turned a comical somersault in the air.
I would like to exchange pressed leaves with any of the correspondents of Our Post-office Box.
Willie Hughes,
P. O. Box 301, Greenville, Ohio.
Altoona, Pennsylvania.
I am always very glad when my Harper's Young People comes.
I have a little dog named Pompey, and he is a very cunning little dog. I have had him ever since he was a little puppy. We have splendid races over the lawn together. Some time I will tell you more about him. I am nine years old. From your affectionate little reader,
Blanche T.
H. Sutherland.—The engraving of "A Little Miser," in Young People No. 33, is after an oil-painting by Adrien Marie, a French artist.
I. O.—There is a very good swimming school at the Battery, New York city.
Jersey City Heights, New Jersey.
I was interested in the article about the "New York Prison-Ships," and I think that many of the correspondents who live far away would be interested to know what has been done in New York in commemoration of the Old Sugar-house Revolutionary martyrs. Not long ago I was walking past Trinity Church yard with my father, when the largest and most beautiful monument attracted my attention, and I asked papa to take me in the church-yard to see it. When I got close to it I saw that it was a massive structure with Gothic openings. It is fully sixty-feet high and twenty feet square, with fine carvings, and of beautiful workmanship. On one side is an inscription stating that the monument was erected in memory of the patriots who suffered as prisoners and died in the Old Sugar-House. It was paid for by private subscription. If any correspondents from a distance visit New York, they will be interested to see this monument in Trinity Church yard, for the sake of the noble heroes to whose memory it was erected.
Eddie A. L.
Correspondents will also be interested to know that the ashes of the prison-ship martyrs now rest in a handsome tomb built in the hill-side of Fort Greene, Brooklyn—a pretty grassy spot, now known as Washington Park. As these brave men died, they were taken ashore and buried in the swampy land forming the shore of Wallabout Bay. There they lay until 1808, when they were removed to a vault near the Brooklyn Navy-yard. In time this vault became very much dilapidated, and was almost forgotten, until in 1855 the question of removing the remains to a more suitable resting-place began to be agitated by the citizens of Brooklyn. Nothing, however, was done for some years, when finally the Legislature of New York appropriated a sum for the building of the tomb on Fort Greene, to which place the coffins were removed in the spring of 1873.
Isabella S. R.—In preparing ferns for skeleton-leaf bouquets it is not necessary to place them in the macerating bowl before bleaching, as the texture of the fern is so delicate as to be ruined by maceration. Before bleaching, the fern should be pressed, and as it becomes dry and brittle, more care is required in the bleaching process than for skeleton leaves. Hang your sprays in the jar, and fill gently with warm water. Then pour in the bleaching solution in the proportion of half a tea-cupful to a pint of water. Allow the jar, which must be covered tightly, to stand in a warm place about twenty-four hours. The liquid should then be renewed. It will take several days for the ferns to begin to whiten. They must then be watched carefully, and each spray removed as soon as it attains the required whiteness. The spray must then be washed carefully in a basin of clean warm water, and floated on to a sheet of paper, after the manner followed in pressing sea-weeds. It should then be kept under pressure away from the air until you are ready to make your bouquet, as otherwise it has a tendency to curl. Do not be discouraged if you fail in your first attempts, as much experience is needed to render the bleaching of ferns a success.
W. D. V.—In the outer wall of St. Mark's Church, Stuyvesant Street, New York, is the original tablet from the tomb of Peter Stuyvesant, who was buried in the family vault within the old church which formerly stood on the site of the present edifice. On this tablet is inscribed the fact that Petrus Stuyvesant died in August, 1682, aged eighty years.
Jasper B.—The insect called the death-watch is a small beetle that perforates the small round holes often seen in old furniture or in the panelling of old houses. If one of these beetles be concealed in a panel, it will reveal itself by ticking in answer to any gentle tapping on the wood-work.
Favors are acknowledged from F. K. Reasoner, Eva and Ella, Carter Colquitt, Harry B. McGraw, Johnny R. Glen, Mabel Lowell, Julian Gresham, Alma Hoffman, Claire B., Mantie Miller, Millie Etta Martin.
Correct answers to puzzles are received from Cora Frost, Graham B., Beryl Abbott, Charles F. Crane, Harry Starr Kealhofer, George W. Raymond, Marion E. Norcross, Eddie S. Hequembourg, Dora Williams, Albert E. Seibert, George Volckhausen, Eddie A. Leet.
PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.
No. 1.
DECAPITATION.
My whole is a fish, but if you behead
An exclamation will be left instead.
Behead again, and you will behold
A craft that was famous in days of old.
A. H. E.