I thought I would write to you. My brother has a snapping-turtle, and a white rabbit with brownish spots on it, and my brother and I have three kittens. I like Young People very much, and I like the story of "The Moral Pirates."
Edith M. P.
Atlanta, Georgia.
I am five years old. I can not read yet, but I get my sister to read the stories in Young People. I like them better than any I ever heard. My letter is getting 'most too long.
Ellen H.
Jersey City Heights, New Jersey.
A short time ago, fresh from the country, I was walking along Cortlandt Street, New York city, when I dimly heard the familiar "Bob White" whistled. "Papa, there's a quail," I exclaimed. "Nonsense," replied papa, laughing; "your imagination is lively." "But," I answered, "I really heard one." "They don't have quails in the city," said papa; "perhaps some boy or man is imitating the bird." I said no more until right at our elbow the shrill notes "Bob White" startled us both. Papa stopped, exclaiming, "That is a quail, surely." We looked about us, but could see no cage. "That is strange," said papa. Then we looked closer, and saw in a wire inclosure, extended from a cellar window to the sidewalk, an unused basin of an old fountain, filled with plants, while half concealed beneath the foliage were two plump birds, one of which extended his little head and saluted us with familiar notes again. A little crowd soon gathered, and listened with pleasure to the sweet notes of these feathered beauties, which here in the very centre of the business activities and bustle of the metropolis recalled recollections of woods and rural delights.
Eddie A. L.