And what fun they had making jingles—Uncle John and the little Wests. Songs he called them, and they were, too, for a tune always came with the words when he made them.

When their uncle left to go back to his California home the children missed him greatly and watched eagerly for the letter he promised them when he reached home. Two whole weeks passed before the letter arrived. When it came there was a small package with it.

What was in the package? There is no need to tell, the letter will explain. Here is the letter which made the children laugh as much as if Uncle John himself had been there telling them what he had written. Charlotte played and sang the song for them till they all learned it. But as I said, here is the letter:

San Diego, Calif.,
September 1st, 1906.

My Dear Nieces and Nephew:—

What do you think?

Your Uncle John is getting the doll habit! Since I visited you half the things I see turn into dolls as I look at them, and I immediately begin to make songs or jingles about them just as you do. As I sit at the table the dishes even, take doll form in my mind. The plates seem to have great moon faces, while the sugar bowl seems to stand with shoulders thrown up and arms akimbo like an awkward china washerwoman. The knives, forks and spoons are almost human with their shining faces.

This morning as I passed a bake-shop and glanced in at the window, the cakes and buns seemed to laugh and wink at me with the fat faces of their bakers.

The doll I send you today was made of kelp by a little California girl. Kelp is a heavy leathery sort of sea-weed that washes ashore about here. There are great beds of it off the coast of California. It grows so thickly that it gives the water a brown appearance and the long leathery leaves are strong enough to bear up pelicans and other sea-birds that one often sees apparently standing on the water. Visitors to California often take home beautiful baskets and other things woven from strips of this strong leathery weed, which is brown on the outside and creamy white inside.

This little kelp maiden I got for you several days ago and as I have watched her standing on the mantel-piece with that dissatisfied look on her face, she seemed to sing this song to me, and as I listened I seemed to hear the plash and feel the rolling of the waves which used to rock her to sleep out on the kelp beds at sea.