"I've got two Mexican and one Peru stamp, and some sea-shells. I live in Philadelphia, and I'm ten years old."
"Any fellow want some iron ore? I've come from Marietta, Ohio, and I'll exchange it for real Indian arrow-heads."
"Here I've come all the way from Strasburg, in Alsace, with a new puzzle. I'm sure nobody can read it."
"Yes, they can. It's in English."
"We take Harper's Young People in Germany. I'm nine years old."
"How can you talk about travelling? I've been shut up in four different mail-bags for nearly two months. I came all the way from Samarang, Java."
"I thought there was a dreadful smell of coffee in the mail-bag," said a letter from Buffalo.
"Coffee!" said the postal card from Java, in a thin straw-board sort of voice—"coffee! I was made out of grass that grew next to a coffee plantation, and one day, just before I was cut down—"
"Gracious me!" said a piping voice that sounded as if it was made of rice-straw. "Did they cut you down?"
"No! It was the grass. That's before I was born. Well, I was a-saying, before I was interrupted, that—"