Cottage City, Martha's Vineyard.
My mother, father, brother, and myself are spending the summer at Cottage City. Last Saturday we joined an excursion to Gay Head. Gay Head is on the other end of the island. We enjoyed the steamboat ride through Vineyard Sound, although the scenery was not very pretty. We were obliged to land in row-boats, which were managed by natives. These natives are a cross between the negro and American Indian; they are generally very homely, with the exception of the children, who soon lose their prettiness, judging by the looks of their elders. We walked some distance along the beach before we came to the cliffs. These cliffs extend about half a mile along the shore, and are formed entirely of different-colored clay—green, yellow, red, blue, white, and brown. The red resembled sunburned rocks, only much brighter; the yellow looked from a distance as if a load of sand had been dumped there, and rolled half-way down the cliffs; the white was very pure and dazzling, and with the dark green bayberry growing on it, the effect was very fine. We went into the light-house and saw the light, which belongs to the first class. The keeper said it flashed in ten seconds, and revolved in four minutes. He has to wind it up every hour. While in the light-house the steamer began to whistle, so we had to hurry back, as we did not wish to get left. We found the sail home rather tiresome, and were glad enough when the Seaview wharf hove in sight. I am afraid that the Postmistress will think this too long to print. If she does not, I will write again, and tell about my excursion to Nantucket. Good-by.
A. B.
Yes, dear, write again. Letters which describe what you see, and tell where you go, are very welcome.
Oswego, New York.
I wish some of the boys and girls who write to you could see my room. The ceiling is papered with nursery papers; then there is a border of Japanese pictures, and the rest of the wall is entirely covered with advertisement cards, some of which I bought and some of which were given me. I have a large cupboard in my room, and that is covered with the same cards. I have over two thousand cards on the wall. I have been to New York this summer, and visited on Governor's Island. I saw Generals Hancock and Sherman, and the former gave me an orange. I am seven years old, and although I have never been to school or studied much at home, I have learned to read. I have been reading Boys of '76 and Old Times in the Colonies, and like both very much. I went to Coney Island in June, and came very near being lost or stolen. I have over two hundred little soldiers, and have fun having battles with them. I hope you will publish this very soon, and excuse me for writing such a long letter.
L. W. M.
Your room must be very beautiful, dear. It is what we call unique, and I think it must be quite gay and rainbow-like. I am glad you were neither lost nor stolen at Coney Island.