CAUGHT.
Now, Bumble-bee, you just keep still; you needn't jump and buzz.
I've had such a time to catch you as never, never wuz.
I've chased you round the garden; a-cause I didn't look,
I almost fell right over into that drefful brook.
And I'm going to put you in it, though I s'pose you think you're hid.
For last week you stung my pussy; you know very well you did.
Yes, and you made us 'fraid that she was going to have a fit,
She jumped up so, and tried to catch the place where you had bit.
Yes, I shall surely drown you. But p'r'aps you've got a home,
And your little ones will wonder why you don't ever come;
And I think p'r'aps you're sorry you went and acted so:
If you'll only wait till I run away, I b'lieve I'll let you go.
Parkersburg, West Virginia.
I have been taking Young People ever since it was published, and I like it very much. This is the first letter I have ever written to Our Post-office Box. We have a nice little pet canary-bird and a little monkey. We have had the monkey four years, but we can not tame him. Last winter it was so cold that once he was almost frozen. At first we thought he was dead, and mamma was about to throw him away, when she saw him move. Then she took him by the stove to warm him, and he got well again.
Victoria R.
HOW THEY KEPT THE FOURTH.
BY MARY J. PORTER.
"Halloa! Walter, wake-up!" cried Georgie. "Don't you know it's the Fourth of July, and we must get up and celebrate it? All the rest of the folks are going to the Town-Hall to hear a speech and get their dinner, and we'll have a good time by ourselves. Do you know what the Fourth of July is for?"
"No," answered Walter, in a very sleepy way.
"Well, I do; mamma told me last night. It's the anniversary of the time when the United States made up their mind to take care of themselves. That was more than a hundred years ago; that's ever so long, mamma says. Now to-day, Walter, you and I will be like the United States, and take care of ourselves; that's what independence means, and this is Independence-day. Say, Walter, don't let anybody know that I told you, but I heard papa telling mamma that he's going to s'prise us each with lots of fire-works. Now I guess you'll wake up."
"Guess I will, too," said Walter, springing to his feet.
It did not take the boys long to dress. Sure enough they were surprised and delighted when to each was given a toy gun and a package of torpedoes, and then they were left to amuse themselves.
"Tell you what I'll do," said Georgie. "I'll make an oration, and you must be the audience, and when I get through, you must clap very hard, and make me do it all over again."
"All right," said Walter. "Jump up there on papa's desk, so I can hear you better."
Georgie mounted the desk, and began "Ladies and gentlemen,—I s'pose you know this is the Fourth of July." Then he couldn't think of anything else to say, so he jumped down. In doing so his foot hit the inkstand, and a black, black stream of ink followed him to the floor.
"Oh, dear! that's too bad!" he exclaimed. "Won't papa be sorry? Wish I hadn't made a speech. Hurry up, Walter; get something to wipe it off with."
Walter tried hard; but he could not wipe away all the ink. Several big spots remained.
"Never mind," he said; "we'd better go out-doors and forget about it. Let's play soldier. You and I'll be the Americans, and Brush can be the British."
Brush was the Newfoundland dog.
This plan suited Georgie, and he and Walter looked about for a red coat to put on Brush. They soon found Cousin Sarah's embroidered jacket, which they thought would do nicely. Then they went into the yard and coaxed Brush to be dressed up. He looked very funny when he stood on his hind-legs with the jacket buttoned around him.
"Now we must stand before him and present arms," said Georgie.
"Yes, and then I'll turn around quick, and fire a torpedo. Won't that frighten the old fellow?"
So, after presenting arms, Walter turned his back to the enemy, and threw a torpedo into the grass. Brush jumped after it, and in doing so he knocked both of the Americans to the ground. Walter was a little hurt, and he began to whimper, but Georgie helped him up, saying, "Don't you know that soldiers never cry?"
When the rest of the family came home, and found the ink spots in the parlor, and Cousin Sarah's jacket spoiled, they thought it was a poor plan to leave little boys to take care of themselves, even on the Fourth of July.
GENOA, SOUTHERN ITALY.
A. E. T.
As our great national holiday approaches, perhaps the readers of Young People would like to hear something about Genoa, where the great Christoforo Colombo, as the Genoese call him, was born. Genoa is situated at the foot of the Appenine range. The town, which is a very ancient and picturesque one, commences at the river-front, and extends some distance up these mountains. A friend of mine writes that there you can not go up town in the sense that we do here, for so steep is the incline that all carriages have to be furnished with brakes, lest, after having once gone up town, one should not be able to get down town again. The drive overlooking the river is delightful. This place is a great stopping-point for ships plying the Mediterranean.
The seasons there are far in advance of ours, and at this present time the climate is intensely hot. Genoa has many beautiful buildings. The people are so proud of their favorite that they name their hotels after him, and also very many minor places of trade. Thus the name of Colombo meets the traveller nearly everywhere. These devoted countrymen have also erected a handsome monument to perpetuate his memory. Ancient as is the city, yet they regard this noble hero with the freshness of yesterday. Well may they be proud of a man capable of such grand achievements, the conception of which was regal in its grandeur.
You all know that to him we owe the blessing of our beautiful America. What wonder that we sing so sweetly and so often, "Hail, Columbia!"
Let us always revere his name as devoutly as his countrymen, who hug the memory of this noble hero as close as Patti did her doll, when at the age of ten she could not sing without it; it was an inspiration to the little songstress.
Let then this great man, Genoa's hero, command our love and gratitude, while it inspires to noble deeds.
Washington Heights, New York.
I have taken your paper for some time, and I look forward from week to week with so much pleasure, thinking of reading the pretty stories; and I am very much interested in the puzzles; I find the answers out myself. I am eleven years old, and have a little sister Mollie, who is a very quaint child. We love to read about all the little girls' pets, especially the cats and kittens, for we have two; the mother we call Dud, and her kitten Gipsy we nickname Gip. They are very knowing and cunning. Dud follows us when we go out, and sometimes, when she has gone very far, waits an hour in one place until we come back, delighted when she sees us, and runs along perfectly contented. Our birds, Pete and John, both died, one of old age, and the other of fits. We are to have a little dog soon. A gentleman has made us a present of him—an English fox terrier. We have never been to school, but are taught at home, and I have read quite a number of letters from little girls in Young People that have lessons at home also. We get along, because we study, and enjoy our books. I read music quite well, so can Moll; we practice an hour a day. We have each a baby doll that we are very fond of; Violet Depeyster is the name of mine, and Daisy Livingston Moll's, named after some aunties. They are very pretty and good; they have very many pretty things we make them, for we can both sew. I write to an uncle in Europe, and a little cousin in the country, and rather like letter-writing, and hope this is not too long.
Lulu K.
Your puzzle will appear before long. It is very nicely done.
Crete, Nebraska.
I want to tell you what I did two years ago, when I was six years old. My papa and uncle bought a drove of cattle in Colorado when they were in the western part of the State. Papa took me out there, and I rode one of the ponies, and helped to drive the cattle about two weeks. I could ride just as fast as the pony could go, and often beat the men in a race.
I have a little saddle. We had a tent, and camped out; it was rare fun, except when it rained. My sister Myrtle and I have a pair of pet doves, a Maltese cat, and two dogs. I like all the stories and letters very much.
George A. J.
Kau, Hawaii, Sandwich Islands.
We live on a sugar plantation, and the flume that carries the cane to the mill runs near our house. The whole length of the flume is eight miles. We have lots of hens, and we children take care of and feed them, and so mother lets us sell some of them, and we saved the money and bought a cow. She had a calf, but she was so wild that we sold her and got another. She had a pretty little white calf; it is real tame. We call him David. He has a collar on, and we put a rope through the collar and lead him anywhere, and he kicks up his heels, and seems to enjoy the play. We children have three horses that we can ride whenever we like—Flora, Maud, and Nellie. Nellie is very small, because she lost her mother when she was small (a few weeks old), and had to be fed with a bottle, but she is very gentle now.
Fred N. H.