Elizabeth, New Jersey.
I am a little girl nine years old, and have as funny a dog as ever you saw, only I do not own him. I have two brothers. One of them was my birthday present. I am going to the country soon, and you are to be sent to me every week. I like you ever so much, and would be very lonely without you, dear Young People.
Sophie M. S.
Troy, New York.
I am a little boy, and have a dear little brother George. I go to school, just the same as all the other little boys do that write you. I have taken your paper ever since it was first issued, and I have all the back numbers, and whenever any of my little friends come to see me, he or she always wants to look at them, they are so nice; and I sometimes send an armful over to the hospital for the poor little sick children to look at, and you can't imagine how pleased they are to get them. My paper is read every week by eight or ten persons, and some of them big folks too. The only fault I have to find with Young People is that it is not large enough.
Clarence G.
C. Y. P. R. U.
Alice asked me why strawberries were so called. She was eating a delicious plateful of them; and as they were heaped high on the dish, sprinkled with sugar and covered with cream, they were very inviting. But why were they strawberries, and not red-berries, or blush-berries, or best-berries? Because, dear, I told her they grow on the ground on a pretty running vine, and are found strewn, or strawn, among their green leaves. From strewn or strawn berries the way is short to strawberries, which name slips easily over the lips in our talk.