Early this morning, just as we were all dressed, a great noise was heard on the stairs; it was Morton, who was shouting, "Oh, papa, the ground is all over white, and the orange-tree has a great white cap on its head!"
We all knew at once that it was snow, which we children had heard and read so much about, but had never seen.
We all rushed out, and found the air full of little feathers, and everything dazzling white. We went wild over it. Papa chased our two little brothers, washed their faces with snow, and showed them how to make snow-balls, and after doing so, got pelted by his boys, and girls too, for that matter, for we all took part. Two inches of snow had fallen. The air was still and calm. And at last we thought of the snow crystals we had read about in Harper's Young People, and asked papa to show them to us. He got a piece of black cloth, and we spread it on the top of a box in the yard, and recognized nearly all of the forms we had seen in the illustration. Little Northern readers will say, "Why such a fuss about two inches of snow?" But they must remember we had never seen it before, and I do not believe they ever saw an orange-tree loaded with snow, and its golden fruit shining out from a setting of frosted silver and deep green leaves. I know they never saw anything so beautiful in their lives.
But I forgot—I must tell you who I am, or rather who we are. We are seven sisters and brothers. Our two elder sisters are married, and have homes of their own. I am the youngest of the girls, and the two boys are the youngest of the family. My mother is a Mexican lady, and father is an American from Ohio. He has lived in this country thirty years. One sister, one brother, and myself were born in Mexico, and Spanish is our mother-tongue, but we read and understand Young People.
Clotilde C.
Thyatira, Mississippi.
I have six goats. Two of them I work in a little wagon. When I can get some little boys to help me, it is royal fun to drive them.
I do not go to school, as we have none near by, and I have no one to go with me. I had three sweet little sisters and one little brother, but they all died. I would love to tell you a great deal about them, but this is my first letter to the Post-office Box, and I am afraid it will be too long, and go into that much-dreaded waste basket. I will be nine years old the 17th of February.
It is awfully cold here this winter.
Jack C.
Hoboken, New Jersey.
I thought I would write to say how much I like the stories of "Toby Tyler" and "Mildred's Bargain." They are so nice I can not help writing to tell you.
I am glad to hear from so many little girls who have seen blossoms and fruit as late in the season as I have.
Reba H.