You wanted us all to tell you about vacation, and I will do so now if it is not too late. I spent mine at Red Bank, N. J. The place where we boarded was terraced right down to the Shrewsbury River. There was a little dock, and a boat which we could use whenever we wanted it. One day we all went fishing, and mamma caught three ugly toad-fish. The jelly-fish look very graceful and pretty as they float through the water, but we used to bathe every day at high tide, and sometimes they stung us very badly. We went in after dark sometimes, and when we splashed the water it looked like fire. One day I fell off the dock; it did not hurt me, but my clothes and shoes were not worth bringing home. Another boy fell off one Sunday morning, just after his mother had dressed him in all his best clothes to meet some company who were coming from New York to spend the day. We used to ride every day. All of the roads are good, but one, to Seabright, is so level, and has such beautiful residences, hedges, miniature lakes, etc., it was almost like driving through a park.
One evening two young men rowed some young ladies to their home, about three miles up the river. The young men started home about ten o'clock. As the night was very dark, they had a lantern. When they got about half way, one of them wanted to smoke, and as they had no matches, he opened the lantern to light his cigar. A puff of wind blew out the light. They could see nothing at all, but they rowed patiently on, until they felt sure they must be near home. Just then they heard some one shout, "Boat ahoy!" so they pulled in, very thankful to be at home. One of them said, "Is this our dock?"
"Dunno," said the man: "this is Smith's dock." Then he put his lantern close, so he could see them, and shouted, "Blessed if you ain't the fellers what left here two hours ago!"
They had somehow got turned round and gone back. I think they paid the boatman something to keep quiet to the girls, but they had such a discouraged look next morning that I felt glad I was only a little boy.
Percy L. McD.
C. Y. P. R. U.
V. O. found dandelions lifting their cheery little faces to the autumn sunshine in Central Park on November 20. Did any one else see the dear, sturdy little flower so late? When its golden disks star the meadows in spring, we always give it a welcome. It seems even brighter when it blooms on the edge of frost and cold in the fall.
Cibby C.—Your little story is very nicely written, and if you persevere you will very likely succeed in composing better stories when you shall be older.
The Postmistress thinks you will like to read the following extracts from the diary of a boy who spent his summer abroad. The glimpses of other lands which we obtain through the bright eyes of youthful travellers are very charming to those who stay at home: