am your constant reader,
B. G. H.
Carrington, Dakota.
Dear St. Nicholas: You do not know me at all, but I know you and love you so much! When you were brought to me this morning I almost kissed your bright face for joy. It was stormy this morning, and I was tired playing with kitty; besides that I had been waiting so long to read some more about Little Lord Fauntleroy! He is such a brave, wise little boy! Will you ask Mrs. Burnett to please not make him unhappy with his grandfather? Ever since we had our Christmas entertainment, I have wanted to tell you about it, but have been too sick to write you. We called it "An Evening with Mother Goose and the Brownies." Yes,—we had all the cute little boys in Carrington dressed up like Brownies. They did mischief very nicely, all quietly in their stocking-feet. While Mother Goose was singing her melodies, they came and stole away her goose, and they pelted Mother Hubbard with paper balls when she sang that song in the St. Nicholas: "I had an Educated Pug." In the tableaux, they tripped up Jack and Jill, upset Blue-beard, stole Jack Horner's plum, overturned the bachelor's wheelbarrow, little wife and all, let the spider down from a tree on little Miss Muffett, and tied Bo-peep's sheep-tails to a tree, and woke her up with their baa's. Then we had "The House that Jack built," just like it is in the St. Nicholas, for Nov. 1883. It was just splendid, and so funny; but when the rat was to come out of "The House that Jack built," the cat had put his foot on the string and it broke, so the cat couldn't come out. Then the maiden all forlorn picked up the rat, threw it at the cat, and everybody just roared!
I am nine years old, and my name is,
Theodora C.
New Hartford, Iowa.
Dear St. Nicholas: I believe the little girls that take the St. Nicholas will like to hear about my numerous paper dolls. I have a whole town of them, and they all have their names written on their backs. I was so interested in "The Firm of Big Brain, Little Brain & Co." After I read it, I kept thinking what my "Big Brain" was telegraphing. Well, my big brain telegraphs to my hand, that if it writes any more, the letter will be too long to print. So good-bye. I am
One of your many friends,
Grace C.