Ever so many letters, which the Postmistress reads with great pleasure, have to be left out of Our Post-office Box every week. The little writers must not be discouraged, but try again. The Postmistress has many a hearty laugh over droll letters for which she can not find room in print; and sometimes she cries, all by herself, over some that are sorrowful, wishing so much that she could help the dear children who have troubles of their own to bear.
Butternut, Wisconsin.
I live on a beautiful lake five miles long, but I do not know quite how wide. Our mountain-ash tree has been just lovely, all in bloom. I wish I could send you all the flowers I have seen this summer. What kind of a school-house do you think I go to? A little log-cabin—not hewed logs either—with unplaned seats and desks, and a floor which has large cracks in it. We have a "scoop roof," and for a teacher's desk we have a large box, and for a water bench only a block of wood. There are two windows and one door. We had in the city a red brick school-house, and everything was very nice there. Oh! I forgot to tell you how many scholars we have—six girls and three boys. My sister Fannie and I both go. I would like to have a photograph of you, the one who likes to darn stockings, for I do too. Our lake is pretty rough to-day.
Kate Belle M.
Well, dear, there are more luxurious school-houses than yours, but some of the best and greatest men our country has ever had, and those whose names we most honor, attended just such plain, homely little school-houses. It is the sort of teaching and of learning which goes on in school which is of the most importance. A dunce would not gain much on a velvet carpet and at a rose-wood desk, and a bright, diligent girl may learn much that is worth knowing, even in a rough, unplaned building. I think that you girls and boys might coax your papas and big brothers to plant vines and shrubs around the school-house, and make a garden in front of it. The teacher's desk might be covered with maroon-colored muslin, on which bright pictures might be pasted. Wreaths of evergreen, and after a while garlands of autumn leaves, might be hung upon the bare walls. Train some German ivy, which grows rapidly, around the windows. If I were there, I could help you make the place pretty I am sure. I am glad you are fond of darning stockings, but I can not send you my photograph, because I am one of the people who never happen to get a good likeness when I sit down before the camera.