Covington, Kentucky.
Most of the young folks who write to you tell of their pets. To avoid sameness, I will not tell of mine, but briefly mention the many curious things I lately saw at Spang's Natural History Rooms.
There were four or five kinds of sharks, the most formidable-looking being the hammer-head. It was indeed a monster; its head was three feet across, and its great goggle eyes stood out on each side. The man-eater was a hideous-looking thing, and would not be a very pleasant bathing companion. It has double rows of teeth, and is fully capable of making mince-meat of a person in a very short time. The manatee, or sea-cow, is an ugly-looking customer, in shape resembling the whale. This specimen weighs nearly two thousand pounds. The saw-fish is a queer-looking fellow, who has the advantage of all other workmen, as he carries his tool-chest with him all the time without inconvenience. This chest contains one formidable saw, which grows out from his snout. We saw two or three very large fish of this class, the saws being fully a yard long, with teeth on both sides. The king of fishes, the whale, would not care to combat with a saw-fish. Of all the odd-looking reptiles we saw it would be too tedious to make mention, so I will only allude to the little alligators, all dead and stuffed, which the ingenious Mr. Spang has arranged in the most laughable attitudes. He must have at least five hundred, some of them not more than a couple of weeks old. I hope that those of your readers who are fond of studying natural history may have an opportunity to visit this or some other equally good collection.
Edith C.
Concord, California.
My home is away out in the country, in Contra Costa County. I have two sisters and three brothers. My sisters are Emma and Tina, and my brothers are Charlie and Louis; the baby's name we have not yet decided upon. Emma, Tina, and I go to a little school about two miles from home. I have some chickens, turkeys, ducks, and pigeons, four dogs, and more than a dozen cats. I must tell you what my brother Louis did to a pet pigeon of mine. He saw it walking around the yard, and he thought he would make it a prisoner by putting it in the tin oven of the stove. We built a fire in the stove next day, and soon we heard a noise in the oven. We took the captive out, and tried to save it, but it died in the night. My papa gave me a nice little pony, which I ride. His name is George. I am twelve years old, and as this is my first letter, I would like very much to see it in print. Good-by.
Berta E. L.
Of course your brother did not mean to leave the poor bird in prison, and he must have felt very sad at its unhappy fate.