H. E. W.
San Francisco, California.
I wish Jimmy Brown would have a story in every number of Young People. Mamma reads to us about that queer Mr. Martin, and laughs till the tears roll down her cheeks. If the Post-office Box knows Jimmy, I would like to tell him that I am very sorry for him.
Arthur W.
The following verses are from a young correspondent:
MY FIRST BIRTHDAY PARTY.
I've grown to be a great, great girl,
I'm eight years old to-day.
Ted says I'm only a baby,
And have too much to say.
Brother Ted don't know everything,
If he is twelve years old;
He thinks he's nearly a man now,
'Cause his watch is real gold.
I'm going to have a party,
We'll have ice-cream and cake;
There is no end to the nice things
My dear mamma did bake.
Then we shall have nice music,
Uncle John is going to play;
He sent me a wreath of flowers,
Just like the Queen of May.
And we shall play all kind of games,
And maybe I'll catch some beaux,
For sister Kate always says that
When to parties she goes.
There goes the bell, some one has come;
No—a large box for me;
Why, it's just the sweetest wax doll
That ever I did see.
J. V.