MOTHER'S BABY.
Mother has gone to breakfast,
And left the baby alone,
But he's seated among the pillows
Like a dear little king on a throne.
If mother don't come to the baby,
Why, then he has only to cry,
And you may be sure she will hurry,
Catch him, and sing lullaby.
[OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
Who wants to help clean house? Elsie, with her sweeping-cap on and her new broom in her hand, says, "I." Susie, with her dancing eyes and her dimpled cheeks, flies for the duster, and declares that she means to be mamma's chief assistant. Jack and Tom, who are very strong, and like to show what splendid muscles they have, are on the spot, ready to lift and carry and do all they can to aid in the spring campaign.
House-cleaning is not the quietest work in the world, but it is work that pays in the end; and good-natured people often find plenty of fun in it.
Lost things often come to light in the May days, when everything is brushed and beaten, pounded and shaken, washed and rubbed, polished and painted, until the world puts on a new face. There was once a little girl who said to a gentleman, in reply to his remark that it was a very bright morning, "Yes, sir; mother washed the windows yesterday."
To return to the lost things, is it not pleasant to find them when they have been out of sight for ever so long? For instance, the Postmistress has a favorite paper-knife which came all the way from Japan. Some time ago it mysteriously disappeared, and though hunted for in every imaginable place, it could not be found. The other day, in house-cleaning, it turned up suddenly. It had cozily tucked itself in between the back of a sofa and the seat, and no doubt had laughed many a time—that is, if a paper-knife can laugh—when it had heard its owner wondering where it could possibly be. It would be a good plan for us all, Postmistress and children, to adopt this old-fashioned rule: "A place for everything, and everything in its place."
Yonkers, New York.
I receive my paper every Tuesday afternoon. I think it is the nicest paper that was ever published for little folks, and big folks too. I have taken it ever since 1879, and now I have one hundred and twenty-seven numbers.
I must tell you about a little black-and-tan dog we had. His name was Dot, and he seemed to know everything that was said to him. When I went to school, he would follow me, and if I went to my recitation, he would come and stand at the head of the class. When he was thirsty, he would go to the water-cooler, and bark for a drink. After a while a cruel dog bit him in the neck, and soon after he died. I have a goat that I trained myself.
Belle H.
What a cunning little dog, to stand at the head of the class! He did not wish, like a dunce, to go to the foot, did he? And what a pity he died!
Cayuga, Canada.
I am a little girl who was eight years old last August. My auntie in Lockport sends Young People to me. I thought a great deal of "Toby Tyler," and now that "Mr. Stubbs's Brother" has come, I enjoy it immensely. I have a little kittie called Pugo. She is gray and white, and is afraid of our parrot. The spring has come, and I am so glad, for we will soon be able to go to the woods and gather wild flowers.
Maggie L. A.
Floyd, Louisiana.
I have been wanting to write to you for some time, and tell you about my pets, but was afraid my letter would not be published.
I have the sweetest little squirrel you ever saw. His name is Zeke, but we do not call him anything but Funny. Papa gave me a nice large cage for him. Mamma takes him out sometimes, and he plays with her just like a kitten. I am afraid of him, although I like to watch him play. I have a bird that sings from morning until night. I have a cat and two dogs. I have also three horses. I can ride one of them. My grandpa gave me such a nice little saddle and bridle! Don't you think I have a good many pets? I am eleven years old.
Irene N.
New York City.
I wrote to Harper's Young People once last summer, but that was while I was in Europe, so I thought I would write from my own home.
My grandpa and grandma had their golden wedding a short time ago, and I expected to have a great deal of fun, but I was sick, so I could not go to it, after all.
We are going to have a fair at our school soon, and so we are all hard at work making fancy-work for it.
Jessie C. S.
East Norwich, New York.
I am not a girl; I am a boy, nine years old. My name is Uel. It is a name which you can find in the Bible—Ezra, x. 34. If you want to know how to pronounce it rightly, you may know by its rhyme with jewel, fuel, and cruel. My father is a minister. I have three sisters. I have a cat named Tommy. I have a velocipede and a sled. I like Harper's Young People very much; I hope you will print my letter in it.
Uel G.
"Little robin singing
From the cherry-tree,
Won't you leave your bower,
Come and play with me?"
"No, no, no," the little robin said;
"I must sing, and you must work."
And so the May day sped.
"Little streamlet dancing
Onward to the sea,
Won't you stop your leaping,
Come and play with me?"
"No, no, no," the merry brooklet said;
"I must play, and you must work,
You pretty curly-head."
"Little flower growing
Oh, so wild and free,
Won't you leave the meadow,
Come and play with me?"
"No, no, no," the sweet spring beauty said;
"I must grow, and so must you."
And thus the May day fled.
Belleville, Illinois.
I am a little girl twelve years old. I read Harper's Young People, and enjoy it very much. We all read it in school. Our teacher gets it for us. Is he not kind? I have been sick ever since Christmas. But I have taken my medicine patiently, and hope soon to be well. My brother and I have a little pet rabbit; it eats blue grass and drinks milk very readily. I have a pet calf; her name is Daisy; and a cow whose name is Lily. I have three sisters and two brothers. We had nice times on Easter. We live in the country, and everything is so beautiful now. I love the Post-office Box very much, and read it first every time.
This is my first letter to Harper's Young People. Please put it in the Post-office Box.
Mary A. K.
Utica, New York.
When we came from England, about two years ago, we brought our Persian cat with us. Her name was Sooty, because her fur was so dark. We taught her to carry meat to a paper on the floor, so as not to soil the carpet. We lost her about a year after, so we kept her kitten, and named her Pansy. She carries her food to the paper, and we have also taught her to ring the bell for her meals. We turn the large dinner-bell on its side, and then she knocks the tongue about with her paw. She was very good-tempered until this summer, when mamma brought another little Persian kitten from England, and then she became so jealous that it spoiled her temper completely. The kitten's name is Gypsy, and she is such a little pet! She was born in Scotland, then went to England, and was "highly commended" at an exhibition of cats there, and at last she crossed the Atlantic to America; so she has seen a good deal of the world, has she not? We have taken Harper's Young People a long time now. I do like to read some of the letters, and I hope this one will add to the pleasure of some other reader.
Janie P. G.
Mayfield, Ohio.
I am a little girl, and I live on a farm with my grandpa and grandma. I went to school six months last winter. I had two miles and a quarter to go. I went to a graded school, and there were thirty scholars in my room. I have no brother nor sister to play with. I have two pet lambs and ten chickens. I also have a piano. I took nineteen lessons last summer, and I am going to take more this summer. I liked the story of "Talking Leaves" very much. Good-night.
M. G.
Elder Sister.—Certainly the younger children should mind what you say when your father and mother are away from home. They will do this more pleasantly if you ask than if you order them, however. Try the plan of speaking gently without raising your voice.
Mary P.—The best time to answer a letter is, if possible, the day on which you receive it. Just after reading your friend's words you feel as if you had been brought very near to her, and there is a freshness and glow in answering her at once which will be gone by the next week. Still, some friends prefer to be kept waiting a little while. If Carrie D. is of that opinion, and prefers not to be answered for a few days or weeks, you might write her a journal letter. Every evening you might set down some of the incidents of your home life, tell her whom you have seen, what books you are reading, what new receipts you have tried, and what flowers are in bloom in the woods and garden. Such a letter would be very much better worth your sending than a hasty scrawl dashed off without care or pains. Above all, my dear, never apologize for a careless letter. If it needs an excuse, it should not be sent.
Robert.—The battle of Lutzen was fought on the 6th of November, 1632. It was in this battle that the great Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden was killed. Gustavus was a leader of wonderful courage and many resources. Dressed in gray with a green plume, he would always be seen in the thickest of the fight, and often before a battle began he would be seen to kneel down and pray in the presence of the soldiers. I am very glad that you find history so captivating.
The Care of Pets.—Children who are unwilling to care for their pets should not keep them. A little bird in its cage can not provide its own seed and water, nor fill its bath, and if its mistress neglects to give it food and drink regularly, it will suffer, and very likely die. In taking care of pet animals it is very necessary to attend to their wants at a regular time every day, and their houses, boxes, and cages should be kept very clean.
Juliet L. T.—The Postmistress will return your graceful little sketch, if you send her word that you would like her to do so. In exchanging, you need simply to state what you have to offer and what you wish to receive. Do this as briefly as possible. Your living abroad does not at all interfere with your being a very welcome exchanger.