Where the blackbird sings the latest,
Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest,
Where the nestlings chirp and flee,
That's the way for Willie and me.
Where the mowers mow the cleanest,
Where the hay lies thick and greenest,
There to track the homeward bee,
That's the way for Willie and me.
Eureka, Missouri.
I am a little boy seven years old. My name is Early. My mamma, my sister Hattie (who is eight years old), and I spend our summers out here on grandpa's farm. I have a pony to ride; his name is Brigham. I made $1.45 carrying water for grandpa's hands in harvest; had two demijohns slung across the pony in front of the saddle. I have a goat and wagon, but Billy is so big and strong that he runs away, and dumps me in the ditch. I have two dogs, Nip and Aleck. Aleck is a shepherd dog; Nip is a little fellow, but he runs awful fast when he gets after a rabbit. I have lots of fun out here—so many peaches and apples, and lots of young ducks and chickens. Papa comes out every Saturday evening, and we go to the train to meet him. We have such a nice Sunday-school in the little district school-house right at the corner of our orchard. We go up there to Sunday-school in the afternoon, and have such nice songs to sing. Hattie picked two gallons of dewberries, sold them for forty cents, and gave the money to help pay for the organ. I want papa to let me be a farmer and stay in the country all the time, but we will go back to the city in September, when the schools open. We had a nice picnic and "fish-fry" on the Fourth at the Maramec River, near here; waded in the cool clear water, and gathered so many mussel shells; rowed in the boat, made pawpaw whistles, and had lots of fun.
Early D.
Elk City, Kansas.
This is the second time we have written to your paper together; the first letter was not published. We like the stories very much, especially "Mr. Stubbs's Brother"; we always read that first. It rained very hard last night, and this morning the banks of the rivers are nearly overflowed. We have one dog; his name is Carlo; he will be four months old next Sunday. He is so full of mischief. One day we went in the bedroom and found him playing with mamma's bonnet; he tore the ribbon, and came pretty near spoiling the feather. We will look in every number for this until it is published.
Mary and Cora W.