I am eleven years old. I picked up potatoes last fall, and earned the money with which I bought Young People. Papa gave me one cent a bushel. I like to read the letters in the Post-office Box, and also "Tim and Tip." I took Young People to school, and we read "The Cruise of the 'Ghost'" there. I have a Newfoundland dog, whose name is Chuck. His color is old gold. We bought him to help us churn, but our milk now goes to the factory. I get up early in the morning and help milk. There is a little creek back of our house, and I skate there in the winter when it is frozen over. I have lots of fun. I fall down sometimes, but it don't hurt me much.
Clinton H. J.
Clarke County, Virginia.
Since school closed I've had a splendid time in the country, fishing in the Shenandoah, and doing other charming things. I am now going home with papa, and shall take my baby brother a great red apple. I mean to study very hard, and do everything I can to please papa, for his kindness in having sent me to the country.
W. H. T.
I don't care about letting you all know where I live; but here I am, shut up in this great Noah's ark of a parlor, alone, just because the teacher came here last night and told Aunt Quillet that I had refused to write my composition. So aunt sent me here, where I could be quiet, and think without being disturbed. What is there to think about, I wonder? There's only a crack between the shutters to let in light, and the furniture is done up in linen bags, and the pieces peek and stare at me as if every chair were a mummy. Why can't folks buy things that don't need bagging, or else use the pretty things while they're pretty, and bag them after they've grown shabby? They make me think of that ship which Ike Walton dived into, where the men were all sitting round just as they had been doing when it went down. I hate parlors anyway. I hate things with Ulsters on.
Auntie opened the door just now, and inquired how I was succeeding. I told her I was writing to Young People. She said that letter-writing was a very fine variety of composition. I did not know that before, and have always thought it easy enough to write letters. If the teacher were of the same opinion, I would not be marked deficient so often in this study.
Aunt Quillet is spending a month here. Mother has gone to grandpa's. Aunt is very stylish, and spends most of her time in making edging. The time she spends in knitting she might employ better, I think. The other day I asked her about Moses—I was studying my Sunday-school lesson at the moment. She said. "Oh yes, Daniel, I'll help you. Slip one, knit two, pass, slip over, thread forward. I haven't had time—narrow three times—to read much lately—knit back plain. Things were very—make fagoting, thread forward, knit three—different then." So I had to depend on myself, for aunt could not stop her lace-work to pay attention to me.
Dan J.