As our great national holiday approaches, perhaps the readers of Young People would like to hear something about Genoa, where the great Christoforo Colombo, as the Genoese call him, was born. Genoa is situated at the foot of the Appenine range. The town, which is a very ancient and picturesque one, commences at the river-front, and extends some distance up these mountains. A friend of mine writes that there you can not go up town in the sense that we do here, for so steep is the incline that all carriages have to be furnished with brakes, lest, after having once gone up town, one should not be able to get down town again. The drive overlooking the river is delightful. This place is a great stopping-point for ships plying the Mediterranean.
The seasons there are far in advance of ours, and at this present time the climate is intensely hot. Genoa has many beautiful buildings. The people are so proud of their favorite that they name their hotels after him, and also very many minor places of trade. Thus the name of Colombo meets the traveller nearly everywhere. These devoted countrymen have also erected a handsome monument to perpetuate his memory. Ancient as is the city, yet they regard this noble hero with the freshness of yesterday. Well may they be proud of a man capable of such grand achievements, the conception of which was regal in its grandeur.
You all know that to him we owe the blessing of our beautiful America. What wonder that we sing so sweetly and so often, "Hail, Columbia!"
Let us always revere his name as devoutly as his countrymen, who hug the memory of this noble hero as close as Patti did her doll, when at the age of ten she could not sing without it; it was an inspiration to the little songstress.
Let then this great man, Genoa's hero, command our love and gratitude, while it inspires to noble deeds.
Washington Heights, New York.
I have taken your paper for some time, and I look forward from week to week with so much pleasure, thinking of reading the pretty stories; and I am very much interested in the puzzles; I find the answers out myself. I am eleven years old, and have a little sister Mollie, who is a very quaint child. We love to read about all the little girls' pets, especially the cats and kittens, for we have two; the mother we call Dud, and her kitten Gipsy we nickname Gip. They are very knowing and cunning. Dud follows us when we go out, and sometimes, when she has gone very far, waits an hour in one place until we come back, delighted when she sees us, and runs along perfectly contented. Our birds, Pete and John, both died, one of old age, and the other of fits. We are to have a little dog soon. A gentleman has made us a present of him—an English fox terrier. We have never been to school, but are taught at home, and I have read quite a number of letters from little girls in Young People that have lessons at home also. We get along, because we study, and enjoy our books. I read music quite well, so can Moll; we practice an hour a day. We have each a baby doll that we are very fond of; Violet Depeyster is the name of mine, and Daisy Livingston Moll's, named after some aunties. They are very pretty and good; they have very many pretty things we make them, for we can both sew. I write to an uncle in Europe, and a little cousin in the country, and rather like letter-writing, and hope this is not too long.
Lulu K.
Your puzzle will appear before long. It is very nicely done.