THE MORNING MESSAGE.
BY K. M. M.
A beam was sent out by the morning sun
To carry the message that day had begun.
First the gay courier told his story
To the opening buds of the morning-glory.
The birds in their nest on the branch o'erhead
Heard every word that the sunbeam said,
And all at once in the trees was heard
The twittered "good-morning" of each little bird.
Then in at the window the messenger flew,
And all around him his gold he threw.
He scattered it here, and everywhere,
He gilded the braids of the mother's hair.
He glanced at the baby, who laughed with glee,
And danced for joy on his mother's knee.
And little Clara, the three-year-old,
Tried to catch at the shining gold;
And she said, "Mamma, if I'm good to-day,
Perhaps this beautiful sunbeam will stay."
Brooklyn, New York.
About a month ago my papa came home from Panama, and brought me two beautiful little birds for pets. I do not know any English name for them, but in Spanish they are called Verdones del Pacifico. They are about the size of a canary. Their bodies are beautiful dark blue, the wings and back are glossy black with a blue stripe, and the top of the head irised green. The under side of the wings is golden yellow. They have little bright black eyes, long bills like a humming-bird, and dainty little red legs and toes. They feed on bananas, and eat all day long. They are very queer little gymnasts, and hang head downward from their perch to reach their food. They do not sing, but the moment daylight begins they commence a sweet little peeping, which they keep up from morning till night.
We did not know they would eat insects; but one afternoon a big fly came buzzing round their cage, and they fluttered and peeped and pushed their bills through the wires in their efforts to catch it. My brother caught it and gave it to them in his fingers. They both dived for it, and had a fight to see which should get the biggest half. Since then we catch flies for them all the time, and whenever any one goes near their cage they begin to peep and watch, hoping for a fly.
Sometimes we shut the windows and let them fly around the room and hunt for themselves. They dart like lightning, and not a fly escapes them. They are growing very tame, and will come and perch upon my finger when they are tired flying.
I wonder if any other little boy or girl has any Verdones? Their home is in the forests along the tropical Pacific coast. They build a nest similar to that of the humming-bird, and are considered members of the same family, although they do not hover over their food like the humming-bird.
Carrie R.
Fort Ontario, Oswego, New York.
My father is a lieutenant in the Second Artillery. We have been in Oswego seventeen months. The fort is on the lake, and a very old fort it is. The scarf wall facing Lake Ontario has never been finished. In the fort grave-yard are some very old graves. There is one of George Fykes, a Revolutionary soldier, who died in 1776.
This is a very pleasant post. In summer there is plenty of boating and fishing. I went fishing the other day, but did not have very good luck. There were a great many wrecks on the lake last fall.
I have one little brother four months old. When he gets old enough I will write a letter for him too. I like Young People very much. I am ten years old.
Howard M.
Table Rock, Nebraska.
I like Young People ever so much. I have no pets except my little baby brother, but there are lots of birds' nests in our orchard. One day when we were in the orchard we saw a big nest with rags woven in it, and I spied a corner of an embroidered handkerchief that was given me a year ago last Christmas. Papa was up in the tree, and he pulled it out and threw it down to me. I think it was a blackbird's nest. The eggs were green, with dark brown spots on them.
Gertie B.
Brookline, Massachusetts.
Here is a game that I invented. I have played it very often, and it is very good fun. Two boys stand opposite each other, about ten feet apart. Each boy has a ball—rubber ones are best, as they will bounce. The balls must be thrown from one boy to the other, both at the same time. When they hit in the air—which they do oftener than you would think—each boy tries to catch one on the first bounce or fly. Each ball so captured counts one. Whoever gets ten first beats.
I have some tracing paper and a lithogram which papa gave me, and I have a great deal of fun tracing pictures and copying them on the lithogram.
Willy A.
Berea, Kentucky.
I have a pair of canaries. The singer I have named Sankey; the other is Jenny. When I put mamma's mirror in the cage, Sankey will look at himself and sing beautifully, and then he will peep behind the mirror to see if any other bird is there. I am ten years old.
Julia B. H.
Hoboken, New Jersey.
I thought you would like to hear about our kitty. At night when we go to bed he climbs over two sheds and a grape arbor up to mamma's window, and shakes the shutter until mamma gets up and lets him in. Then he goes down and waits at the front door till papa comes in. Then he follows papa down stairs, and papa gives him something to eat, and shuts him up in the kitchen. In the morning he runs out in the yard and plays around until breakfast-time, when he comes in and goes right to papa's place at the table. He puts his fore-paws upon the table, and claws papa's arm until he gets a piece of meat, or bread, which he likes best.
Here is a recipe for Puss Hunter and her club. I call it jaw-breaker candy. It is a little different from Nellie H.'s recipe. One cup of brown sugar; half a cup of vinegar; a piece of butter the size of a hickory-nut. When I think it is boiled enough, I drop a little into a glass of cold water, and if it hardens, it is done, and I pour it into a buttered dish to cool.
Rebecca H.
Camden, Alabama.
I am a subscriber to Young People, and this is the first letter I have written for "Our Post-office Box." I had a large doll given me last Christmas, and I have named her Fannie Sue. She has a pretty little red trunk full of clothes, and a black satin hat with red flowers on it. My papa got me a donkey a few weeks ago, and when I learn to ride nicely he is going to give me a horse.
Kate C.
Champaign, Illinois.
I thought the boys and girls would like to hear about my auntie's pets. She has four big birds and four baby birds. One of the baby birds got out of its nest this morning, and hopped about the cage. Another bird is sitting on five eggs. Then we have four cats and four kittens, and a great big Newfoundland dog. I am eight years old. I live in Indianapolis, but I am visiting auntie now.
Fred D. S.
Newark, New Jersey.
I write to tell you of my success with the tarantula in Young People No. 29. I had to work hard to get the body cut out nicely, but at last it was done. A little girl showed it to her father, and he thought it was a big live spider, and gave it a knock which sent three of its legs flying, but I soon mended it.
Eddie W. H.
Deep River, Connecticut, May 19, 1880.
My sister subscribed for Young People for my Christmas present. I learned the song "I am the Lad in the Blue and White," and now I am learning "I am the Lad in the Cadet Gray."
I caught two baby trout out of a brook with a cup, but papa told me to put them back in the water, so I did. There are lots of violets here now, and our rose-bushes are budded. For the last two weeks the air has been very sweet with apple blossoms. I was eleven years old yesterday.
Edith P.
Pine River, Colorado.
I live in Southwest Colorado, close to the Ute Indian Reservation. My papa has a store, and the Indians often come to trade. These Utes are not bad, like the Utes who killed Mr. Meeker. We had six wild geese, but a bad dog killed one of them. Some time I will write more about the Indians here.
Hattie J.
Bonanza, Idaho.
I like to read all the letters from the children in Young People, and I thought I would tell about my puppies. They bark if any one comes in the room. One catches another by the tail and growls, and the other jumps around and barks. There are three of them. Their mother is sick, and coughs up blood. I wish some boy could tell me what to do for her.
The snow is eighteen inches deep here yet (May 8), but it has been over six feet deep here this winter.
F. M. G.
Mills City, Montana.
I am always glad when Young People comes. I like all the stories very much. We have two buffaloes, ten cows, a little calf, two horses, and a little colt; and I have two cats, a dog named Rose, and some chickens of my own. We have beautiful house plants, and flowers growing in the garden in summer. I have two sisters and a brother. My oldest sister is at school in Bismarck. I am eleven years old.
Laura B.
Brooklyn, New York.
I have a pet guinea-pig, which came across the ocean with me. It is pure white. I have made a house for it to live in during the summer. I visited Paris, and saw the last Exposition. It was not as large as ours, but it was very fine. I have a very nice collection of stamps and coins. My oldest coin, a Moorish one, is dated 1270. I have another dated 1275. Both the coins were given to me by Captain Boyton. Is it true that he was killed? I would like to know.
Charles L. S.
Captain Boyton is not dead, but is in good health, and on the occasion of a recent boat-race at Washington was floating about in his famous life-saving costume.
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
I have copied all the recipes, and we have a nice cook that lets me try them, and helps me, too. She makes the crust for me, and I make the inside for an awful good lemon pie. Here is the recipe, and I wish Puss Hunter and the girls would try it and say what they think of it. Take one tea-cup of white sugar; one table-spoonful of butter; one egg; one large lemon; one tea-cup of boiling water; one table-spoonful of corn starch. Mix the butter and sugar in a bowl; then put the boiling water over the fire, and stir the corn starch (which you must first wet in a little cold water) into it till it thickens. Now pour it over the butter and sugar, and set it away to cool. When it is cold, add the juice and grated peel of the lemon (carefully removing the seeds) and the beaten egg. Bake it without any top crust. Three times all this makes two nice pies for big people, our cook says.
Young People is—oh, too good for anything. When I grow older, I am going to take a dozen copies for poor little boys and girls whose papa and mamma can not take it for them, as mine do for me.
Helen.
U. S. Naval Academy, Annapolis, Maryland.
This is a lovely place to live in. Every morning and afternoon the band plays in the Naval Academy grounds, and almost every afternoon we play croquet until the band stops. The music always begins with "The Star-spangled Banner," and ends with "Hail, Columbia."
Lizzie C. F.
Danville, Illinois.
I thank you, dear contributors, for the recipes you have already sent me, and I would like some more, especially a good recipe for bread.
I would like to know the name of this little flower. It was given to me, and I think it was found growing in the water.
Puss Hunter.
Your flower is a cowslip, which grows in wet meadows, and is one of the earliest blossoms of spring.
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
I am twelve years old, and I am very fond of flowers, and take great delight in hunting for them. There is a flower which grows in the woods and open fields here, called the "Star of Bethlehem." The blossom is a little white five-pointed star, and it blooms in great quantities in the month of May. If "Genevieve," of California, sends her address, I shall like to exchange pressed flowers with her.
Bertha S.
I would be pleased to exchange pressed leaves with Mary Wright, of Kansas, if she will wait until fall, as I always have a very nice collection of autumn leaves. I would also like to exchange pressed ferns with some little girl in the fall. I think Harper's Young People is a splendid paper.
Emma Foltz,
Chambersburg, Pennsylvania.
Quitman, Georgia.
I am a little Southern girl, eight years old to-day. Grandpa gave me a gold ring, and papa gave me a beautiful doll. Oranges, bananas, and sugar-cane grow here, and we have flowers and mocking-birds all winter. Please tell me what willow "pussies" are.
India T.
If you look in the Post-office Box of No. 25 you will find a description of willow "pussies," given in answer to questions from other young correspondents in the far South.
Julian G.—The first volume of Harper's Young People will be finished with the fifty-second number, issued the last Tuesday in October, 1880.
S. G. Smith.—"Tumble home" indicates curving in toward the top; "tumbling in aft," curving under.
H. T. M.—The characters you inquire about are not letters, but signs understood only by the members of a certain society.
New York City.
Could you tell me the origin of the name "Forget-me-not" as applied to flowers? I have heard there is some historical legend or story concerning it. I should be very glad if any of the readers of Young People could inform me where such a legend is to be found.
A Constant Reader.
There are many graceful, poetic stories told by poets and romancers, especially by German authors, concerning the origin of the name "Forget-me-not," but it is unlikely that any one of them has a historical foundation. We leave the subject open for our youthful correspondents to discuss.
"Tout ou rien."—To send us your name and address once is sufficient.
Charles F. R.—If you send forty-eight cents in clean postage stamps, the papers you require will be forwarded to you.
Nina.—The wife of an Earl has the title of Countess. There is nothing to be said of the Countess of Rosebery beyond what you read of her in Harper's Bazar. She is a very estimable and charitable lady, and universally respected.
Richard S. C.—The best thing for you to do is to visit some establishment where the article you require is for sale. There are so many kinds and so many sizes of bicycles that it is impossible for us to give you any idea of prices.
PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.
No. 1.
ENIGMA.
My first in fortune, not in luck.
My second in canvas, not in duck.
My third in squadron, not in fleet.
My fourth in conquer, not in beat.
My fifth in battle, not in wreck.
My sixth in rigging, not in deck.
My seventh in union, not in flag.
My eighth in steadfast, not in brag.
All these letters will show to you
An officer gallant, tender, and true.
Mary D.