KISSING THROUGH THE GATE.
Golden-rod and asters;
Pears and purple grapes,
Just the prettiest colors,
And the finest shapes.
Through the dear old orchard,
Down the dear old lane,
After fruit and flowers
They will go with Jane.
First, a kiss from Kittie
Through the meadow gate.
"Hurry, sister Elsie,
We will be too late."
This from Master Freddie,
Who would hate to miss
Golden pears and apples
Just to get a kiss.
Do not fear, the flowers
And the fruit will wait
Till a little maiden
Kisses through the gate.
[OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
"Woodlawn," Jenkintown, Pennsylvania.
Dear Young Folks,—You have read so often in your charming paper of the wonderful intelligence and strange fancies of animals that I am tempted to write you of a "Happy Family" in which we are all greatly interested.
About four weeks ago I went down to the stable and found a mother cat and three little ones on a bed of straw in a half-hogshead. A few days later another cat had three snowy little kittens in the same place. They were the prettiest creatures you ever saw, and the happy mammas seemed to enjoy my admiration of their babies.
The next morning, on visiting my pets, the cats were away, and to my astonishment I found a speckled hen sitting on four of the kittens. I drove her off, but she went most unwillingly. The next day she was there again, and the next, but two of the kittens had been carried out on the floor, and as I was afraid the cats would hide them, I removed the two families, putting them on some straw behind their former home. In a few moments the hen found them, and has never left them day or night except for her food. The little ones are growing finely; they creep under and around her, play with her feathers, and do the funniest things imaginable, all of which I am sure she enjoys.
It is a strange and beautiful sight—the two mothers, the six babies, and the demure old hen making herself as large as possible, often spreading her wings to accommodate one of the old cats.
A friend said to me, "I wish you would write this out for publication, but I fear you will not be believed; I should have doubted the story myself." So I have written a mere outline of the pretty scenes enacted down in the stable entry of my country house; no day has repeated itself, and as I write, the foster-mother, nurse, friend of the family, or whatever she may be called, is faithfully brooding over her charge, crooning low, as if to a brood of little sleepy chicks.
I wonder how all this will end? When the children go out into the world to seek their fortunes, will their devoted nurse stay with the "old folks"? I know not. But this I know: that the fate of barn-yard fowls shall not be hers. She shall be marked with our approval, and shall live out all her days in her own way, and according to her "own sweet will."
Hoping I have won your interest in my little family, I am very truly yours,
F. T. C.
The Postmistress thanks you in behalf of all the children for this very entertaining account of your pets.
Paris, France.
My auntie, living in Washington, sends Young People to me. I like it very much. I can hardly wait a week for it to come, because the continued stories all leave off in such interesting places. All the little boys and girls who write letters tell about their pets. I have not any. I have neither brother nor sister. I am eleven years old. I go to a French college, where there are twelve hundred boys. It is a government school, and we wear a uniform. Blue pantaloons with red stripes up the side, a jacket and vest with brass buttons, and a little cap trimmed with gold tape. The name of my school is College Rollin. Each boy has his own room. We go to bed at eight o'clock, and get up at six. Papa comes for me Saturday evening at seven o'clock. I spend Sunday at home, and return to the college at nine in the evening.
I am taking my vacation now. I went with my uncle to the sea-shore at Dieppe. There is a very old fort there, and also old churches about falling to pieces. I went to Dinan, and saw a large fortification. I went to St. Malo, and then to Granville. Both of these places are on the sea-shore, and both have old forts and churches which interest visitors. I gathered some pretty shells and pebbles. I had a very nice time playing in the sand. I also went to the Isle of Jersey, which belongs to England. We went to take a drive, and I saw some large caves.
I am now staying in the country by the side of a little lake, and in about five minutes' walk you are in the woods. I have a little boat in which I sail on the lake. I have a friend who has a donkey. I go nearly every day to ride with him.
This is the first letter I have written to Young People. I hope it is not too long to be published. My auntie is very much interested in the Post-office Box.
Harry J. B.
Your letter pleased me very much, Harry, for it was almost as easy to read as print, so very carefully had you formed each character. Your uniform is a very pretty one. I hope all the boys who wear it behave always like little gentlemen. I am glad you had so pleasant a vacation.
Beechland, Kentucky.
I have been wishing to write to you for some time, but as my oldest brother had written, mamma said it would be better for me to wait awhile. Friday was my birthday; I was seven years old. Brother is almost nine, and we have a fat little brother just five. Our baby sister is almost two years old, and she is so cute and sweet! We all like the paper very much indeed, and think the pictures beautiful. We have an aunt eight years old, two little cousins, and brother Willie and myself who take it, so we have a nice time talking about the pieces when we are all together. Our papa has a new hay-press. We love to watch them bale the hay. I think we boys who live in the country have fine times, there is so much to see and to do, and we have so much nice fruit. Mamma says it would be better to live in the city in winter, so that we could go to school. As it is, she teaches us at home. There are so many of us to play together that we do not care much for pets. Our dog Tip is one year old now. He was named for Tip in Young People. He is a real smart dog, although he is so small. He wants to go with us wherever we go, but mamma wants him to stay at home, so now whenever the "Jersey" is hitched up he hides himself under the back seat so that we will not notice him. We have a great many things I would love to tell you about, but I have not time now. My little brother Charlie will want to write before long.
Luddie M. B.
Brooklyn, New York.
I am a little girl eleven years old, and have taken Harper's Young People from the first number. I am just recovering from a severe attack of diphtheria, which has left me with both limbs paralyzed. I have a little sister five years old, and her name is Mamie. We have no pets except a little canary-bird whose name is Dickey; he is the sweetest little fellow you ever saw. If you wake him up in the night he will get very angry, and spread out his wings, and open his mouth wide at you. Has the dear Postmistress ever read the "Elsie Series"? I have, and think they are very interesting. Good-by, dear Young People.
Jessie S.
I hope, dear Jessie, that you will in time recover your strength, and be able to walk again. I hope that Young People helps to amuse you and pass the time that might be weary without it.
Huntington, Long Island.
I am ten years old, and have taken Harper's Young People ever since the first number came out. I have every one except No. 142, and that papa left in the ferry-boat. In winter we live in Brooklyn, but in summer we come to my grandpa's farm. It is very pleasant here; it is thirty-six miles from Brooklyn. I have two sisters and one brother, all younger than myself. One of my sisters is a baby, and I am her godmother. She is so cunning! We had four squirrels, but my brother's and baby sister's died, and I gave mine to brother, so that I have no pets now. We have four cats. The largest one is Solomon Isaac Moses Levy Marcus Antonio, the next is Lizzie, the next is Fannie Smith, and the fourth is Jumbo Peter.
Aimee H.
Did you not have a headache, dear, after giving Puss No. 1 that remarkable name? I hope you do not forget to set every day the very best example you can to the little one whose godmother you are.
Hood River, Oregon.
I have never seen a letter in the Post-office Box from this place, so I thought I would write. I have taken Harper's Young People since November, and like to read it very much. We are spending our vacation here, but our home is in Portland, Oregon. We are only about fifteen miles from Mount Hood, and we can also see Mount Adams very plainly from here. Most of our trees are pine, but there are a great many oaks too. We have lots of fun swinging on their long branches. My brother and another man killed a rattlesnake with six rattles the other day. We eat out-of-doors, in a dining-room made of small pine-trees and boughs. We have a horse whose name is Silly. There are five girls in our family and two boys. My baby brother is three months old, and we think he is the dearest baby in the world. He laughs right out loud sometimes. I have been trying to learn something else besides what I find in my books at school, but all that I have yet learned to do well is to darn stockings and make biscuits.
Dora D. E.
If you can make good biscuits, light and sweet, and darn stockings well, you are quite a little housekeeper already.
Gallipolis, Ohio.
I have not been taking Young People very long. But my father bought a few copies when he was at Richmond, Virginia, about two or three months ago, and I liked them so much that he gave me a subscription for a birthday present. I have not many pets, but my grandmother, who lives next door to us, has a fountain about eighteen feet round, and she has some gold-fish. They are the largest that were ever seen in this city. They are about ten or twelve inches long, and they will jump out of the water for something to eat if you hold it in your fingers. They have two little ones, which appeared in the spring. At first they were quite dark, very nearly black, and then they turned a pale yellow on their sides, and finally became a golden color. The four fish came all the way from Cincinnati in a quart bucket, and now you could not get one of them into a bucket so small. They lived all through the cold winter, and many and many a morning the thermometer was down below zero, and the fountain was frozen over. They would not eat our food through the winter, and they must have lived on insects or on air.
Edward S. A., Jun.
Silverton, Colorado.
As I have not seen a letter from the Gem of the Rockies, as our pretty town is called, I thought I would write one. While I am writing, it is snowing quite hard, this last day of August. When I got up this morning, as soon as the fog had disappeared, the mountains looked beautiful. I have a nice pair of snow-shoes all ready for winter. It is great fun snow-shoeing for my sister and I. I have a big sister, who is helping me to make clothes for my doll. Her name is Saidie. I am a little girl eleven years old. I am always so delighted when I see papa coming home with my Harper's. Much love to the dear Postmistress.
Florence F.
Snow in August, Florence! No wonder you need snow-shoes for winter at that rate.
The apples, O! the apples, O!
See they come tumbling
Down below.
Climb the ladder,
And shake the tree!
One for baby,
And one for me,
And one for Dick,
Who climbs the tree
And shakes the apples,
And that makes three.
The apples, O! the apples, O!
Into the basket
See them go.
Pippins and Baldwins
All in a row;
One for baby,
And one for me,
And one for Dick,
Who climbs the tree
And shakes the apples,
And that makes three.
HOW THEY MAKE INDIGO.
BY A. E. T.
There are some amusing features connected with the process of making the very useful article we call indigo. You all know that it is a plant. The leaves, which are green, are first placed under heavy pressure, and then steeped from ten to fifteen hours in immense vats, so large that they contain 2000 cubic feet of water. In very hot weather this water swells until the surface becomes a frothing liquid, and should a match be applied, it would cause a loud report, and the flames would leap from vat to vat, like the will-o'-wisp flitting over marshes. These vats are filled from immense reservoirs, into which the water has been previously pumped. They have a time-keeper, who is called "gunta-paree"; he watches the process closely, and at the proper moment lets the steeped liquor run into another vessel, called the beating vat. And now comes the funniest part of it. They put a gang of coolies into the vats, each one having a long stick with a disk at the end. The coolies immediately plant themselves in two rows, facing each other; then they commence throwing up the liquor, which, meeting in mid-air, the two jets fall confusedly together. This they continue until the excitement grows intense. Such a screeching and yelling, with splashing of water and beating of sticks, until their naked bodies fairly glisten with the blue liquor. Oh, how they twist and contort themselves, until they look like imps or queer blue demons!
To see eight or ten vats full of these frightful creatures will unnerve a stranger, but to the planter it is a pleasant sight. As the blue deepens the coolie's exertions increase. Every muscle is strained, his head is thrown back, his chest expanded, and his long black hair drips with the white foam, still he keeps up the measured beat, and his cries pierce the morning air. Such scenes as I have described continue for about three hours, after which the coolies are exhausted, and require rest.
Although the following curious puzzle, kindly sent by our correspondent E. L. W., is not new, it may amuse many of our little readers who have never seen it before. Those who are successful in discovering the answers will have their names included among the solvers of puzzles in No. 154: