As we happen to know that father and mother as well as the boys and girls take a weekly peep at the contents of Our Post-office Box, we insert for their benefit a paragraph which appeared in the Boston Journal of May 23. The Journal has a very honorable and influential place among American newspapers, and we are glad to have it express its appreciation of Harper's Young People in terms so cordial:
"When this weekly, intended specially for young readers, was first started, we were somewhat curious regarding the special field it would make for itself. It seemed as if the reading public, old and young, was supplied with literature adapted to the diversified wants of all, but we felt assured that the Messrs. Harper were too thoroughly acquainted with their business as publishers to launch a craft without a knowledge of the demand which existed for its support. Time has shown that Harper's Young People was wanted to fill a vacancy. It is already welcomed every Saturday to thousands of New England homes. Its tone is pure, its articles are always interesting, and its illustrations are superior to anything ever attempted in juvenile literature of its class. While it is intended for the perusal of Rob and Mabel, of Sam and Lucy, we venture to say that it has been the experience of others, as it has been our own, that the older heads of the family find in its pages each week matter not at all beneath their notice on the score of information and general interest."
Rochester, New York.
I am a little boy eight years old. My papa has two hunting dogs named Steck and Rob, and I have a pet cat. The dogs are very gentle and kind, and let us tumble all over them; but when they have a bone given them, they fight terribly. Whenever Rob gets a chance he steals the cat's meat, and then she gives him a good scratch. My brother Harry is four years old. He has a little girl friend named Floy, whom he calls his little sweetheart. When I had the scarlet fever, and the doctor said my skin would peel off, Harry said, "Then, Georgie, when your skin peels off, I can see your soul, can't I?" I am sick, and mamma is writing this for me. I hope you will print it, so we can surprise papa, for we have not told him about it. He gave me Harper's Young People last Christmas, and I enjoy it more and more every week. Good-by.
George B. M.
Frankfort-on-the-Main, Germany.
We have taken Harper's Young People from the beginning, and we enjoy it very much.
It is just nine years since we left America. Six of these have been spent in Paris, one in Freiburg, in Baden, and two here. We like this city exceedingly. It is very beautiful and interesting. In the "Judengasse," the principal street of the old Jewish quarter of the town, in an ancient rickety house still standing, were born the ancestors of the wealthy Von Rothschilds. Near by, in a similar house, Boerne was born. Goethe's birth-house, in another street, is more respectable, and full of souvenirs of Germany's great poet.
The opera-house here is as beautiful as the one in Paris. Other attractions are the Palmengarten, the Zoological Garden, the forest, the river, the cathedral, picture-galleries, museums, historical buildings, monuments, and the renowned and graceful sculpture of Ariadne on the lion's back, by Dannecker. The town is encircled by the "Promenade," a zigzaggy avenue of green woods, lovely lawns with flower beds, lakes, fountains, statues, etc., at the place of the old fortifications.
There are numbers of Hebrews here. They have many noble traits of character, and some we know are more Christian-like than many Christians. Besides that, they are very intelligent and quick. We have plenty of friends among them, and we like them very much.
I have two sisters and two brothers. We all go to school, except my elder sister, who studies at the Conservatory of Music, of which the great composer Joachim Raff is director, and which counts among its teachers Frau Clara Schumann and the violinist Hermann.
My baby brother, who was born in Paris, understands perfectly French and English, but will speak nothing but German. He attends the Kindergarten. I take lessons on the violin, and in drawing, elocution, Italian, and "the grand dialect the prophets spake," Hebrew.
I love Longfellow, and I feel so grieved at his death! I have a precious autograph of his, written expressly for me; it is the first verse of his beautiful poem, "Excelsior," and his name.
I think, upon the whole, that America is the best country in the world. However much we are attached to Europe, we will be glad to get home. Papa is now in New York; he has crossed the Atlantic Ocean twenty times.
Would the editor or any of the readers please give me a list of all the different inventions and discoveries made by Americans, and oblige their loving compatriot,