My uncle has three horses, and one is so small and gentle that I am learning to ride him.
I like to read the other children's letters in the Post-office Box, and I can read them myself, except the long words.
My papa is in China. He sent me a little silk dressing-gown last Christmas, and a tea-set.
I have learned to speak "Bofe dem Chillun's White," and mamma and I think it is lovely.
Clarence D.
Rochester, New York.
I am but a tiny baby, but my mamma takes Young People for me—so she says; but when I grab it to cut my teeth on it, my mamma grabs it away, which don't seem as if it were much mine.
I live in Rochester, and I am in a farm-house near the lake for the summer. The lake air is good for little babies.
I go all over the farm in my little carriage, sometimes 'way out in the field to see the cow from which I get milk fresh twice a day. The man who takes care of her calls her Betsy, but my mamma, who is a Baltimorean, calls her Madame Bonaparte, because she was brought to the farm just after Madame Bonaparte's death. I feed her on bread and sugar, to pay for her milk.