Last week we had Valentine's Day, and this week brings us a holiday of a different kind. Americans celebrate Washington's Birthday because that great and good man was our leader in the war for our separate existence as a nation. Many of you study the history of your country at school, and so you have learned that George Washington was born February 22, 1732. His father died when he was only eleven, but he had a good mother, and he early learned to honor her in all things. We have not room to tell you much about Washington's boyhood, but one thing we will say, because you little folks who are going to school may imitate George in this particular: his copy-books were always as neat and clean as possible, and are models of beautiful writing. You see, he was conscientious in little things. Now if you want to refresh your memories about the French and Indian War, the Revolution, and the early days of our Independence, you can not do better than to begin reading those portions of our history in the week that brings Washington's Birthday.
Brooklyn, New York.
I have three pet cats, but Mr. Tibbs is the wisest. One morning it was so cold there was ice on the window so that you could not see out, and Tibbie is very fond of looking out of the window; so, as he could not see, he took his tongue and licked a place big enough for him to look out. It was so cunning. He is a very high jumper. Every meal-time all the cats come around Mr. Tibbs, and then he cries for all of them. He is very large, and weighs sixteen pounds.
I go to school, and learn music, and I am very fond of it. When I grow older, I am going to take singing lessons and lessons on the organ. I also have my dolls. I have a large French doll, which has everything like a little girl. Then my baby is very sweet, with big brown eyes and golden curls. My French doll has blue eyes, and dark brown hair, like myself; I also have brown eyes. I have been a constant reader of your paper ever since it was published. I have a dear little turtle which is as large as a quarter of a dollar, but he sleeps all the time now.
Nettie M. T.
Washington, D. C.
I am a little girl just nine years old, and I am the only girl my papa and mamma have got, and the only grand-girl my two grandpapas and one grandmamma has, too, but I tell you he has lots of grand-boys, though.
I have four little brothers, all younger than I am, and once we had some cows, and Harvie—that's one of my brothers, who is eight—came running into the house, and told our nurse, Buty, he was "afraid to go out into the yard where the married cow was"—he meant the one that had the calf. Everybody laughed so much when mamma told them, and I have read some things not any funnier than that, so I thought it would be a nice thing to put in my letter to you. Harvie says I must put how old he was then, because you all might think he did it when he was eight. He was nearly four when he was frightened so badly. My aunts in Virginia take Harper's Young People for us, and Harvie, Lewis, and I like it ever so much. Lewis is just five, and wears pants, too. Maurice sits up and looks as though he knew what mamma was reading; but he don't, though. Isn't this a long one? I did not write it all the same day. If you can, I wish you would please copy this in the paper you send Harvie, Lewis, and me. I don't see many letters from Washington. Harvie says he just bets you won't.
Serena Helen S.