OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.
Just about this time, dears, your mammas are very busy in looking at the fall fashions. They wish to dress their girls and boys so neatly and comfortably that they shall have no temptation to think too much about their clothes. And then, too, they want you to wear pretty things, because children should look bright and beautiful, just as flowers and birds do.
If you choose, you may ask them to make your own new costumes like some of these pictures. We think, too, the little women who write to the Post-office Box about their doll families, and who have so much on their minds in the way of caring for the Lady Bettys, and Miss Lucys, and Mabels, and Isabels, whom they so dearly love, will be glad to see some dainty fall fashions for dolls. The little girls in the picture are very graceful and sweet.
I wonder if I can help you a little in dressing these same dollies. There are two tall girls nearly in the middle. The one on the right we will call Alice. Her dress is of fine soft cashmere of an olive tint. She has a wide sash of satin a little darker than her gown. Her friend Florence has on a petticoat of Indian red, which is a peculiarly rich dark shade. If mamma will give you a few bits of velvet or velveteen for this petticoat, and also for the shoulder cape, Miss Florence will look very charming. Her over-dress may be of fawn-colored silk.
Shall we call the two little ladies on Alice's right Dotty and Dimple? Dimple has her face this way, and Dotty's is turned aside. We will dress Dimple in lavender and heliotrope, and Dotty shall be a cunning little maiden in two shades of brown.
Now for the others. Don't you wish we could see little Marjorie's blue eyes and rosy cheeks? But we can only guess at them. Our artist has shown us that she knows how to stand up straight, and the way she holds her head is delightful. She is wearing, as you see, a pretty gray check, and she is a very good match for her little sister in that stylish cadet blue, and her cousin Willie in his jaunty suit.
When you shall have succeeded in dressing some of your pets like these pictures, you may write and tell me all about the fun you had in cutting out the clothes and making them fit. Be sure you write about how you contrived the little bonnets and hats. Perhaps you will be trying your skill at dressing dolls for a fair this winter, or in making Christmas presents, and these illustrations may give you some new ideas.
The boys must not feel that they are left out of this pleasure. They may draw these little figures on bits of paper, and then color them beautifully with their paints. Or, if they do so very carefully indeed, they may color the figures as they stand.
Foochow, China.
I was very glad to see my letter printed in one of the February papers. I do not expect to learn to write Chinese, but I learn to talk a little from the servants. Our Amah talks "pidgin English." This is the way she talks, "Amy just now have got too muchee rain, no can go walkee."
I have a doll that can say Papa and Mamma, but my mamma does not let me play with it, as it is wax. There are a great many roaches here, and one bit a piece of my dolly's cheek out when it was put away in the wardrobe.
Our only pet is a small cat, which is very lazy, and does nothing but eat and sleep. Sometimes we dress her up in doll's clothes as a baby. We have a very nice aquarium with gold-fish, shrimp, and one other kind of fish in it. The gold-fish have double tails. In the fall we hope to get the aquarium nicely filled with plants and things.
It is very hot here in the summer, but there is a large island, called Sharp Peak, in the China Sea, thirty miles from here, where the missionaries have houses, and go to spend part of the time. There is a very nice beach, and the bathing is very good. We went down for two weeks in June, and had a nice time. My brothers and I found some pretty shells. Please tell me if the lady whom you heard talk about China has ever been in Foochow. I have 568 stamps in my album now.
Amy C. J.
Your cat is very accommodating to be willing to wear doll's clothes to please you. Ask mamma to let you play with your wax doll, and then she will not be in danger of making a dinner for roaches or rats. I think the lady I spoke of when replying to your former letter has been in Foochow.
Boston, Massachusetts.
All the young people will be writing about their vacations, I suppose, and so I will write about mine. The most interesting part will be, I think, about my visit to Nantucket. Nantucket is a very old town. The houses are all built away from the sea, so when one is walking through the streets one has no view of the water at all. The very old houses all have on their roofs what are called "Lookouts." These are small railed platforms for the people to stand in and look out for the whaling vessels. When one came in sight, whoever was on the lookout gave the signal, and then great preparations were commenced—cooking mostly, I guess, for they didn't illuminate and send up fire-works in those days.
A splendid view of the town of Nantucket is obtained from the Unitarian church tower. In this tower is a very old bell, with a cross on two of its sides, and a Latin inscription under each cross. This bell was originally intended to form one of twelve chimes in an ancient Catholic church in Spain, but it was stolen, and after changing hands several times, it was landed in Nantucket.
Whoever goes to Nantucket must be sure and visit the Old Mill, which is a great curiosity. There is only one other like it in America. The curious part about it is that it is so old, and it never has been changed since it was first built, many, many years ago. The town-crier is another ancient institution, and with his bell and tin fish-horn he goes about the streets crying out all the news. When they wish to have an auction in Nantucket, everybody who has anything to sell carries it to the corner of some designated street, and there the things are auctioned off. We did not have time to go over to Siasconsett, but I mean to if I ever go to Nantucket again. The next time I write I will tell you about Plymouth. Good-by.
A. B.
Well, you have made me feel a strong desire to go to quaint old Nantucket. Don't you think the good home cooking must have tasted very delicious to hungry sailors who had been used to sea fare during long and tedious voyages? And how happy must dear little girls have been when, climbing to the lookout, they saw in the distance their fathers' ships coming in! How they must have hurried down to tell mother, and what a joyful troop must have been at the wharf to welcome the bronzed and bearded man when once more he set foot on his native land!
Brick Church, New Jersey.
I am eleven years of age, and have been receiving Harper's Young People as a present for nearly two years. I think it is one of the nicest Christmas presents I ever had given to me, and I enjoy the stories, puzzles, and Post-office Box very much. As school opened last Monday, I thought I would wind up my holidays by sending you fifty cents of my own for Young People's Cot, and hope it may help a little to do some poor sick child good.
I had a real good time during vacation, and among other things, my brothers and sisters and I (there are six of us all—steps and stairs, mamma says) made a collection of caterpillars, putting them in boxes with covers of glass, so that we could watch them. We fed them with cabbage leaves and turnip-tops. Did you know some caterpillars were cannibals? We caught some very pretty green ones with black stripes and yellow horns, and they soon attached themselves to the side of the box by two threads, and after a day or so their skins came off, and they turned into cocoons. It was just after they hung themselves up that the other caterpillars attacked them, and kept them company until they had eaten them all up. Wasn't it awful?
We have lots of butterflies now, but I scarcely think so much of them since I know how they behaved in their youth. But my uncle Jim says they are regenerated, and I suppose that takes the bad out.
Hoping, dear Postmistress, that you had a pleasant time this summer. I am your little friend,
Effie W. R.
You were well employed in watching the caterpillars. That is the best way to study natural history, not depending on books only, but taking notice for yourself of the ways and habits of insects and birds.
Shelton, Nebraska.
I thought that I must write to you because all the other little girls and boys do. I take Harper's Young People and The Pansy, and like them both. I have a pet pig, and I call her Peggy. She is an orphan; I raised her on a bottle. I once had a pet kitty. I would put a shawl around her and rock her, and she would go to sleep. Papa has a horse that I can ride. I can ride sideways on a gallop without a saddle. My home is on a farm with my papa and mamma, and I am their only child. We had a hail-storm here in July which destroyed the wheat for many miles around. I attended the Grand Army Reunion at Grand Island, Nebraska.
Louie L.
Take care that the horse does not run away with you one of these merry days when you are riding without a saddle.
Detroit, Michigan.
I thought I would write and tell you about my baby brother; he is seven months old. I have a pet hen and a little kitten. My brother had a little rabbit a short time ago, but it ran away and got lost. I like Harper's Young People; we have had it every week since it came out, but I would like it better if you would write more about girls.
Clara B. K.
If you will look carefully over the last few numbers, Clara, you will find some very pretty stories and poems which are about girls. And we have some very delightful things all ready for our bright girls this autumn.
Greenwich, Connecticut.
I thought I would tell you about some historical reminiscences for which this place is noted. Not quite a mile out of the village is the place where brave General Putnam rode down what is now called "Put's Hill," and escaped from the British soldiers under General Tryon; and General Putnam's old stone house is still standing here, and is occupied.
We have no pets, but papa has a very valuable bull-terrier named Leo, which is so very gentle that my dear little sister Helen, who is only five years old, has only to speak to him to make him drop a bone, no matter how choice it may be. He never attempts to growl at us when he is eating, as some dogs do. We got him as a pup, when he was two weeks old, and as he was so young, he was sent back to his mother until he was six weeks old. Then we have two of the nicest, gentlest horses that ever were; their names are Charlie and Fannie. We have had them ten years, and we can do anything with them. They are unhitched in the main part of the stable, and they are allowed to go where they will, but they always go in the right stalls. There are four stalls, two day stalls and two night stalls. I have a collection of picture cards, and my brother Gershom and I have a splendid album of stamps. We have quite a large family—twelve in all—and necessarily never lack company.
I should think that the Postmistress would be very busy with all the letters from young people. I am my parents' sixth child and second son, and I am fourteen years old.
Fred L. S.
Fort Concho, Texas.
My papa is an officer in the army. We live at Fort Concho. I take Harper's Young People, and get the St. Nicholas from our post library. I suppose you have heard of the great flood we had here. I went to the river every day with papa, and saw a great many things floating down the stream. Mamma saw a big rat on a small piece of wood sailing along, and looking quite comical. I saw hundreds of sheep and pieces of furniture and a piano leg rushing on. But all that did not make me feel so bad as the little girl who lost her mamma and sister. She stood on the bank and saw them float away on the house roof. They were brought back dead.
If you publish this, I will write again, and tell you about my good times pecan-nutting and Indian-pony-riding, etc. I am ten years old.
Ruth W. P.
It was, indeed, heart-rending for that poor little girl to see her dear mother and sister carried to death before her eyes. I hope you will write again, little Ruth.