Who so light of heart as we,
Dancing in the greenwood free,
Tripping, skipping, to and fro,
Laughing, gliding, heel and toe?
Mag and Robin, Jack and Nell,
Don't you think we polka well?
Merry Roger blows a horn,
And upon the breezes borne
Sounds the summons, "Come and share
Fun within the greenwood fair."
All the family are here:
Father, mother, baby dear.
Who so light of heart as we
Dancing 'neath the greenwood tree?
OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.
"Green gravel, green gravel, how green the grass grows!"
A ring of little boys and girls were singing this the other evening, their hands joined, and their faces flushed with the merry exercise. A lady who was looking at them said to the Postmistress:
"Dear me, that sight takes me a long way back into the past. Fifty years ago I used to sing that song with my little brothers and sisters, and we played just as those children do. It seems like yesterday."
Green gravel! The Postmistress understands why the grass is said to be green. It has been just as bright and soft as it now is every summer that she can remember, but she never saw green gravel. Did you?
Seargeant Bluffs, Iowa.
My papa made me a present of Harper's Young People. I enjoy the stories very much, and especially the letters. My mamma taught me to sew my papers before reading them. I am a little girl eight years old. I go to school, and have four studies—arithmetic, geography, reading, and spelling. I have taken one term in music lessons. I am learning how to do fancy-work. The first work I did was a motto, and now I am making a toilet set for my room. It is made of white honeycomb canvas, and worked with blue worsted. I also do many little things to help my mamma. My pets are a canary-bird named Fritz, who sings very sweetly, a tabby cat, and a little baby brother, the sweetest of all. His name is Arthur. He has learned lots of cunning things. I will tell you some of them. He can tell all the animals on his blocks, and pat-i-cake, and knock at the door, and lift up the latch. He is a year and a half old.