I send you some poetry my father wrote on my birthday. I live in Mount Vernon, a few miles from New York. We have a large martin box, and this spring, before the martins came, a lot of sparrows built their nests in it. When the martins arrived and found the sparrows in their house, they gave them notice to leave; but the sparrows fought for their place like little warriors, and the battle lasted a week before the brave sparrows were beaten off. I like Young People ever so much!
Harry L.
TO MY LITTLE SON.
Darling little Harry,
Only eight years old,
Healthy as a sparrow
On the tree-top bold;
Cheeks as red as roses
By a lily laid,
Little form as perfect
As was ever made.
Cunning little package
Of brain and nerves and things,
Wrapped up in the whitest
And pinkiest of skins,
Labelled "Papa's Treasure,"
Worth its weight in gold;
Miser-like I hug it,
To my heart enfold.
Would that I could keep you
Ever young as now,
So innocent and loving,
With unclouded brow;
But days speed on so fast,
That in a few years more
My little boy will be a man,
That I can hug no more.
Mountain House, Sierra County, California.
When I opened Young People yesterday, the first thing I saw was the picture of Toby Tyler, looking as natural as ever. If I knew Toby, I would tell him about my black cat, which he could have in his circus. It was born with hardly any tail, and what there is of it is crooked at the end. His hind-feet are much higher than his fore-feet, and he growls like a bear when we touch him; so we have named him Bruin. I also have a dog that Toby would like to have, as he can ride on the velocipede, with my sister. He can ride sitting in my brother's cart, with a hat on his head and a pipe in his mouth. His name is Tiger, and he is quite large. I should think that Toby had had enough of a circus, without wanting to be the manager of one. I hope this letter will be put in print, for I would like Bob Simpson to see that my cat would do as well in the circus as his three-legged cat with four kittens.
Ida C.
Trinidad, Colorado.