THE SKIPPING-ROPE.
Now all ye tearful children, come and listen while I tell
About the little fairy folk, and what to them befell;
And how three little fairies sat them down, one summer day,
And cried among the grasses till the others flew away.
They flew away bewildered, for it gave them such a fright
To see the fairies crying, with the jolly sun in sight:
And so they left them all alone, and there they sat and cried
Six little streams of fairy tears, that trickled side by side.
And looking down, the laughing sun among the drops did pass,
And he laid a little rainbow beside them on the grass.
Then quickly rose the fairies, and clapped their gleeful hands—
"We've found the brightest skipping-rope in all the fairy lands."
And there they jumped their tears away, and jumped their dimples in,
And jumped until their laughter came—a tinkling, fairy din.
What! you say you don't believe it, you saucy little elf?
Then run and get your skipping-rope, and try it for yourself.
East St. Louis, Illinois.
I am a little girl twelve years of age. I live in the country. I thought I would write and tell you about my pets. I have a little Alderney calf; its name is Baby Mine, and it follows me all around. I have a little colt two years old; its name is Celeste. My uncle is a stock raiser, and when my brother was eight years of age and I was six he took us to his pasture and told us each to pick out a colt. Those colts are now six years old. Mine is named Blaze. My brother has two colts, one named Rosalie T. and the other Roxie. I have a Spitz dog named Beauty; he got into a fight not long ago, and was badly hurt. I have two kittens named Budgy and Toddie. I have a ball with a string tied to it for my kittens. I have four canary-birds and a beautiful red-bird. I have been taking music lessons ever since I was eight years old. This is the first letter I have ever written.
Rosalie T.
Ocean Grove, New Jersey.
I am at Ocean Grove for the summer, and expect to stay until October. On my way down I saw the wrecked coffee ship Pliny. The coffee is washed all along the beach. The other day I went up the beach toward the wreck, and found five bags, each holding about two bushels. The coffee is green, that is, not roasted, and is now quite black in color. I emptied about ten bushels on the sand, and brought the bags home. The Captain of the wrecked vessel issued a circular warning people not to use the coffee, as there had been hides on the vessel which were cured with arsenic. There are piles of coffee on the sand.
I will exchange an ounce of coffee from the wrecked vessel Pliny, for ten foreign stamps (no duplicates). Please inclose a 2-cent stamp for postage on coffee.
Harry C. Crosby,
Box 2104, Ocean Grove, N. J.
Brooklyn, New York.
In No. 130 of your paper a reader of the same asks if any one of your readers knows anything about a, book called The Runaway. We have it, and like it ever so much. The copy we have only says, "By the Author of Mrs. Jerningham's Journal," and it is published by Macmillan & Co., in London and New York, and our copy was published in 1872. We think it is so nice.
I am one of the "little girls who have many pets." We have a beautiful English setter, and I have a lovely Maltese cat, two kittens, and a canary-bird—a very sweet singer. He is singing now. I would write about them, but it would only be to tell what so many little girls have already done, though I want to ever so much.
Bessie W.
Adams, Massachusetts.
I am a little girl six years old; I live in Adams; and my sister is five, and her name is Clara. We have a good many dollies; my best one is a large wax doll named Ruth. I can not write, so my mamma is writing this for me. We have two kitties; mine was born without any tail. Mamma read to us about Jumbo in the Young People, and so we call my kitty Jumbo. Clara's kitty has a nice long tail, and her name is Cherrie. We do not go to school, but papa and mamma teach us at home. Papa takes Harper's Young People for us, and we like to read the letters in the Post-office Box; and mamma reads us the stories. Papa says I may have a garden this summer all my own. I had one last summer, and I had beans in it, and mamma cooked them.
Helen W. H.
Tarrytown, New York.
I am a little girl nearly six years old. My pet is a gray cat named Tiger, whom I love very much. Last fall my papa had two little kittens in his store, and Tiger was so jealous of them that he ran away, and staid six months, and then came home again. Mamma reads Young People to my brother and me every week, and she is writing this for me. Please print it.
Marion M. D.
Thanks, dear, for the daisy and fern.
Mount Vernon, New York.
I am sore (four) years old. Mamma is writing this sor (for) me, as I can not write. I have a white kitty with a black nose; mamma will tell you his long name (Don Tomosa Felini Blackernosa, or Backernoisa, as little four-year-old always calls him). I sit on a cushion at the table. This morning kitty sat on the same cushion by me, but he did not take any of my breakfast. Kitty has his supper on the soar (floor). Jack (our little Skye terrier) sleeps with kitty on a carpet chair. Jack bit the baby kitten (sister to Don) because she took his meat. Brother Bertie buried the little kitten. The kitten's mamma got shot in her paw. She was so sick we gave the baby kitty a little bottle with milk in it, and a little piece of sponge in it, so kitty could drink; she put both her little sont (front) paws on the bottle when she took the milk. It cried and ran after mamma when it was hungry. I like "Toby Tyler."
C. Harold C.
P.S.—My baby boy can not sound the f's at all.
Mamma.
Newton, Iowa.
This is next to the last week of school, and we are anxiously waiting for our long summer vacation. We expect to have a nice time. My mother, brother, and I are going to Nebraska the week after school closes, as we have cousins living there. They have a little pony for the children, and each has a saddle of its own, and I expect to learn to ride horseback. As the town is only a few years old, it will seem almost like the country. The Postmistress said she would like to hear from the girls having flower beds. I have one. There are seven children in our neighborhood—two boys and five girls—who have each a flower bed, and want to see who can have the nicest. My auntie sent us Harper's Young People two years ago, and last year's are being bound for my brother Lewis, and this year's will be bound for me, and our names will be put on the backs of them. I thought that I would write a letter to have in mine, and have been expecting to write sooner. I enjoy reading the letters and continued pieces the most; also Jimmy Brown's—those about the animals, and the rest.
Celia L.
Elizabeth, New Jersey.
I am a little girl nine years old, and have as funny a dog as ever you saw, only I do not own him. I have two brothers. One of them was my birthday present. I am going to the country soon, and you are to be sent to me every week. I like you ever so much, and would be very lonely without you, dear Young People.
Sophie M. S.
Troy, New York.
I am a little boy, and have a dear little brother George. I go to school, just the same as all the other little boys do that write you. I have taken your paper ever since it was first issued, and I have all the back numbers, and whenever any of my little friends come to see me, he or she always wants to look at them, they are so nice; and I sometimes send an armful over to the hospital for the poor little sick children to look at, and you can't imagine how pleased they are to get them. My paper is read every week by eight or ten persons, and some of them big folks too. The only fault I have to find with Young People is that it is not large enough.
Clarence G.