I thought I would write to the Post-office Box about my white mice. At one time I had fourteen, and they did many funny tricks. One of them would go on a tight cord, in the centre of which was fastened a pan of bird seed, holding on by his tail all the time. Another would go up an inclined plane, and then down a string to get bird seed. I could tell many other funny tricks they did, but I am afraid my letter would be too long.
John R. B.
Port Byron, Illinois.
I am seven years old, and I live on the east bank of the Mississippi. My papa owns a raft steamer, which is busy towing rafts from the foot of Lake Pepin to Hannibal and St. Louis. Every summer my mamma and I take a trip with papa up or down the river. We are gone a week or more. Oh, I just have jolly times! The men on the rafts make me whistles and little boats. The cook gives me dough every time he bakes. I make fried cakes, biscuits, and pies all out of the same piece of dough. I am not as particular as the little girls who send recipes to the Post-office Box.
My grandma in Wisconsin subscribed for Young People for me, and I enjoy it more than any present she ever gave me, because it is something new every week.
Freddie J. B.
Albion, New York.
I live with my mamma and grandpa and grandma. I am four years old, but I am going to be five in October.