TO MY LITTLE SON.
Darling little Harry,
Only eight years old,
Healthy as a sparrow
On the tree-top bold;
Cheeks as red as roses
By a lily laid,
Little form as perfect
As was ever made.
Cunning little package
Of brain and nerves and things,
Wrapped up in the whitest
And pinkiest of skins,
Labelled "Papa's Treasure,"
Worth its weight in gold;
Miser-like I hug it,
To my heart enfold.
Would that I could keep you
Ever young as now,
So innocent and loving,
With unclouded brow;
But days speed on so fast,
That in a few years more
My little boy will be a man,
That I can hug no more.
Mountain House, Sierra County, California.
When I opened Young People yesterday, the first thing I saw was the picture of Toby Tyler, looking as natural as ever. If I knew Toby, I would tell him about my black cat, which he could have in his circus. It was born with hardly any tail, and what there is of it is crooked at the end. His hind-feet are much higher than his fore-feet, and he growls like a bear when we touch him; so we have named him Bruin. I also have a dog that Toby would like to have, as he can ride on the velocipede, with my sister. He can ride sitting in my brother's cart, with a hat on his head and a pipe in his mouth. His name is Tiger, and he is quite large. I should think that Toby had had enough of a circus, without wanting to be the manager of one. I hope this letter will be put in print, for I would like Bob Simpson to see that my cat would do as well in the circus as his three-legged cat with four kittens.
Ida C.
Trinidad, Colorado.
I have been a constant reader of your paper for nearly two years, and like it very much. The Post-office Box has a great many interesting letters in it, and I have often thought I should like to write one myself for it. I am nearly twelve years old. I was born in Madura, Southern India, where my father was a medical missionary. Eight years ago we left India on account of father's health, and a short time after our arrival in America we came to Colorado. We have been living in Trinidad nearly four years. It is an old Spanish town, I don't know how old. The word Trinidad means the Trinity. The population of this place is made up of Americans and Mexicans. There are a great many things I would like to tell you about the Mexicans and their mode of living, but it would make my letter too long.
Lela P.
No, dear, it would not have made your letter too long, and so I shall expect another from you before a great while, telling all that is interesting about your Mexican neighbors.
St. Joseph, Tensas Parish, Louisiana.
I hope you will want to hear from a little over-flowed girl. I will try to tell you some of the trouble we have been in. The water came over our yard on the 15th of March. In a few days we had to move out of our kitchen and lower floor, and go upstairs. The next week there were three families who had to move out of their houses and come here. My aunty's house was seven feet from the ground, and she had to come here.
They had to make platforms on their galleries and put cows on them, and their stable started to float off. They had to bring their horses into the dining-room. The gin was full of colored people, and the barn full of mules. I can't tell you how much we have lost. All our hogs were drowned; we lost many chickens; the fences and bridges are all gone.
This house is like a bee-hive. There are twenty-three people in it. We had to put cloth around one end of the gallery for some colored people to live in, as our gin and barn were full.
There has been much suffering among the old colored folks. They had to leave their comfortable homes, and go to the gins, without fires. My old black mammy came into the house with us.
I have a fine dog named Roswell. He stands on the steps, and catches all the minnows that go by. I have also one of the smartest black-and-tans I ever saw. His name is Rover. I have a nice little boat that belongs to me alone, and I am learning to row. I would like to tell you how much my little cousins and I like this dear paper. How happy we are when Saturday comes—for that is the day we receive it—and that night mamma reads to us. But I must say good-by. I forgot to say how deep the water was here in our yard. It was six feet deep in our front yard, and eight in the back yard.
Sadie N.
The girls and boys who have not been over-flowed as you have will enjoy reading your description of the exciting time you have passed through. I am afraid some of them will think it was fun to have had water so high that Roswell could stand on the steps and catch minnows. But the people who had to live through so much fright and danger will hope that no such flood may ever come again.