Of course, dear May, you set the little squirrels free soon after catching them. Although they are very cunning pets, I can not help feeling sorry for them when shut up in cages, for they so dearly love their liberty, and are so merry when leaping from bough to bough in the woods.
The cunning little letter which follows was the first effort of a wee bit of a girlie whose papa had gone from home on a visit:
Bigelow Place, Cincinnati, Ohio.
Dear Papa,—I miss you so much! We are going to have a water-melon for dinner to-day. I love water-melons. But I love you the best. We had a nawful storm yesterday, and it blew the roof off a house on Walker Street. I guess the people got wet. My neck is tired bending over. I wish you many happy returns.
Your little baby Lula.
Here is another bright little letter from a wee girlie to her papa:
Bridgehamton, Long Island.
Dear Papa,—I hope you will come this afternoon, and bring me home—come after two o'clock; I will be all ready. I want to know how many tricks you have taught Gip [Scotch terrier]? How large is Gip? How are my kittens? I don't know whether they are dead; are they? Are they fed? How is Tom [cat]? Please bring the puppy with you when you come down, but don't fill his stomach with meat—'tis too indigestible. I helped to hunt the eggs yesterday, and we got over a hundred. Papa, I have a great many little mats, pretty as silk, made out of thistles flattened out, and they are the prettiest little thistles you ever did see, but they were the coarsest little thistles when Mary [nurse] picked them, just like "needles and pins." There are some little pet birds here, but we don't have to feed them. We can't bring them home; we will have to leave them here. This is the last of my letter; I can't write any more. Do you want to know why? The flies are bothering me so.