Syracuse, N. Y.
I have a canary-bird named Dick, which I want to tell you about. When he was a young bird, he was so small that he could get through the bars of his cage, and one day, when he was hung out-of-doors, he flew away, and staid all night. Early in the morning my mother looked out of a window, and saw Dick on the porch, and she put the cage out, and he flew into it. He is very tame, and will come on my shoulder, and drink out of my mouth. I like Harper's Young People very much.
Frank J. M.
No doubt the little truant was very glad indeed to find himself at home. Once upon a time, a long while ago, we took care of a friend's bird while she went away on a visit. The very day we expected her home, the cage door was left ajar, and Fluff flew away over the trees, and the garden wall, and out of sight. Imagine our despair. What to do we did not know. Finally, we borrowed a neighbor's bird, a very sweet singer, and set his cage and the deserted one, with its door open, side by side on the window-sill. The little girl of the family sat in the shadow of the curtain to watch, and two hours after our little fly-away came home, allured, we thought, by the songs of our borrowed bird, and perhaps by a thought of the nice fresh seed and cool water in his little house.
Markesan, Wisconsin.
I am a little boy twelve years old, and live in Green Lake Co., Wis. I would like to tell the little readers of Young People about the swarms of locusts we have here this summer. About half a mile west of our village there is a high hill covered with large oak-trees, and they are swarming with locusts, and they make a roaring noise which sounds like machinery; we can hear them very plainly down in the village. They have stripped some of the trees quite bare of leaves. They are harmless little creatures, only eating leaves of the oak.
I have a pure water-spaniel dog that will bring ducks out of the water, and anything else that I wish. I take him to the post-office and give him the mail, and tell him to take it home; he will take it in his mouth and run home, and wait on the veranda until mamma opens the door, and then he will wag his tail and seem so pleased.
Now I do so hope this will not go into the waste basket, as this is the second time I have tried to get a letter printed.
Eddie Atkinson.
Why did you not tell us your dog's name? He must be a splendid little fellow. What a pity the locusts should need so many leaves for their dinners! We should be sorry to see the oak-trees stripped, and glad that the locusts do not come every summer.