Will some of our little window-gardeners write to the Postmistress and tell her about the callas that are opening their beautiful cup-like flowers, and the hyacinths that are filling their rooms with fragrance? There will be a snug little corner for plant-lovers in Our Post-office Box during the whole of the next month.
New York City.
I saw in No. 114 an article on sponges, in which you said that sponges were cultivated in Europe. One day as I was passing through Fulton Street I saw in a show case something labelled "cultivated sponge." With your piece fresh in my memory, and having also a great curiosity to see how it looked, I entered the store—a large drug house near William Street—and inquired about it, and they kindly told me that the sponge was raised at Cedar Key, Florida, and that it was of seven months' growth; also that it had been cut and planted without being taken out of the water. The sponge measured seven inches in depth and eight inches across. Thinking that some of your young readers would like to see such a curiosity, I write this letter.
Alfred M.
West Chester, Pennsylvania.
I am a little boy eight years old, and my uncle has been sending me Young People for a long time. I have read letters that little boys have written for your paper, and thought I would like to write and tell them about my pet squirrel. Its name is Shell-bark. I named it that because it eats so many nuts. My papa and I were in the woods one day, and saw a little squirrel pop its head out of a hole, so we threw a handkerchief over the hole, and caught it. It is very tame now, but it has had a sore nose from trying to get out of its cage, and the only way I could get to grease it was by giving him a shell-bark, and when he poked his nose out to get it, I greased it with cold cream. I believe that is all I have to say.
Robert F. W.
Do you not think you would feel happier if you were to set that cage door open, and give the captive, although he is so tame, the choice between liberty and confinement? It is squirrel nature to love the wide woods, and I am afraid, notwithstanding your generous providing, he would prefer the old trees and scanty fare to the prettiest cage and plenty. If you do keep him for a pet, then ask papa to let you have a cage for him so large that you could turn a somersault in it.