BIRD RAILROAD-TRAVELERS.

Now that we're talking about birds'-nests, I may as well tell you some news that has come to me all the way from East Cosham, in Hampshire, England.

On a small piece of frame-work under a third-class "smoking" carriage on the London and South-Western Railway, a water-wagtail built her nest and reared a young and thriving family of four. The train traveled regularly about forty miles a day, and the station-master at East Cosham says that, during every absence of it, the male bird kept close to the spot, awaiting with great anxiety the return of his wayfaring family.

Now, in my opinion, that water-wagtail mother made a queer choice for her home-place. But if the little ones get no other advantage from it, they are sure to be well trained. What do you think about it, my chicks?

THE LETTER-BOX.

The following is Dr. J. G. Holland's answer to his "Double Riddle," published in our last number:

La, man! I see your little game:
'Tis "la" itself in song or aria
That piercing dear Maria's name
Transforms it to Malaria.
And "la" itself, as all men know,
Raises the sol to si and do.

Dear St. Nicholas: I have made up a nice little story, and I want you to know it. It is called "Laziness."

Once upon a time there was a little boy and his name was James. He was very lazy. One day he was going out to play when his mother called him back. "James," said she, "I went up to your room to make your bed, for the maid was too busy, and your room is very disorderly. Unless you promise to keep it in order, and have it in order by next week, I will send you from home. I am very sorry to say this; but it must be said. Now you may go; that is all I wanted you for." Next week came very soon, and the room was still in disorder. The mother went up and looked in; she threw herself on her knees, and prayed that Heaven would not let her send her boy away. James went away, and his mother never saw him again.

Now, children, learn a lesson from this, and don't be driven from home by laziness.

I am eleven years old, and I want you to give my love to Jack-in-the-Pulpit and the School-mistress.

Jennie Moore.

The Blind-clerk's Puzzle.

This is what the "Blind-clerk" made of the puzzling address that M. B. T. gave in a letter to Jack-in-the-Pulpit, published last month:

"Servant Girl, No. 40 Queen's parade, London."

And that turned out to be the right address, too. Another friend says that this same blind-clerk once had referred to him a letter addressed like this:

"To my uncle tom, london."

That was too much. The letter never reached "my uncle tom."

Dear St. Nicholas: I have taken St. Nicholas for several years, and like it better every year. I often read over the old numbers, and find many things that seem almost new to me. One of these was "John Spooner's Human Menagerie," in the number for April, 1875, and I have been trying to get up a "menagerie" like John's. I can make most of the wonderful living curiosities, but I do not know how to make a curtain that will "go up with a flourish." I have made one to draw sideways, but I want one to go up. Please inform me how to construct it.—Yours truly,

Fred R. Martin.

Here is a tolerably easy way to make a stage-curtain that will "go up with a flourish," and come down either quickly or slowly, as may be wished. It is easily kept in order, and readily repaired when damaged.

Above the stage, at the front, set up a stout cross-beam. Let the curtain be of some opaque stuff that will fold well. Fasten its upper edge firmly to the front of the cross-beam. Weight the lower edge of the curtain with a long roller some inches wider than the curtain. Sew to the curtain, on its wrong side, perpendicular rows of rings set at suitable distances apart, and in level lines across. The more rows, the more evenly will the curtain fold. Tie a strong thin cord about the roller in a line with each perpendicular row of rings, and pass each cord through its proper rings. On the bottom of the cross-beam above the several rows of rings, fasten large smooth rings to be used instead of pullies. Pass the cords up through the large rings, and gather them at one end of the beam. Then fasten the ends of the cords to a rope, taking care while doing this that the curtain is down, and hanging properly, and that all the cords are drawn equally tense. There should be a stout pin or hook at the side of the curtain, to which the rope is to be fastened when the curtain is drawn up. Take notice that the cords are of different lengths and must be free from knots. The curtain should not touch the stage, and may be kept in place by fixing the ends of the roller in iron rings or between pegs.

Two Ways of Carrying the Mail.

The frontispiece to this number of St. Nicholas shows how the mails were carried in winter over the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada before the Union Pacific Railroad was finished (1869), and how they are carried now. In 1867, to the perils of the snow and wind and of mountain travel, were added dangers from desperadoes, white as well as red, so that mail deliveries were few and far between, and very irregular, while too often both the carriers and their packs were lost. Slow as the old way was, however, the snow sometimes makes the new way even slower. In spite of miles and miles of snow-sheds and snow-fences, and ever so many steam snow-plows, the railroad is blocked now and then until a way can be dug through huge heaps of drift. Thus, sometimes, whole days are lost on the steam road, when a man might be speeding and coasting on his queer foot-gear, over the snow-crust like the wind, to reach the destination perhaps a week ahead of the snorting snowed-up monster. However, year by year, as sheds and fences and other preventions are multiplied, railroad delays caused by snow become fewer and fewer.

Georgetown, D. C.

Dear St. Nicholas: I was so much pleased with the little figure of a nun in the November number, that I made eight like it. I have been taking the St. Nicholas ever since it came out, and think it gets nicer every time it is published. I am not quite seven years old, but I composed all of this letter.

John Wm. Mitchell.

My Very Dear St. Nicholas: We really don't know what we should do without you. We took the "Young Folks" for a great many years, and have taken you ever since you were first established.

We went, a short time ago, to see a man who swallowed swords for a profession. Now, can any of our St. Nicholas friends tell us whether he really swallowed them or not, and explain how it is done? —Your loving friends and devoted readers,

Fannie Chandler,

Mary White.

Painesville, Ohio.

Dear St. Nicholas: My children learn the names of English kings and queens, the books of the Old Testament in their order, and other matters of importance to remember, through having found and committed to memory certain rhymes containing them. I have seen several embodying the books of the New Testament, but they all have been too difficult or long for children to learn. I inclose an easy one, written for my own children which may prove useful to your large family of young folks.