The story of Perseus, in this number, has been set in a frame of stars by the old astronomers. In Professor Proctor's sky-map in St. Nicholas for January, 1877, you will find the constellation.
New York.
Dear St. Nicholas: I find in Swift's "Gulliver's Travels" that he speaks of a "voyage to the country of the Houyhnhnms." Here are six consonants all in a row, and I would like to know if such a word can be correctly pronounced.
If it is pronounced "hoy-nims," and I doubt the possibility of pronouncing it any other way, is there any need of so many consonants?—Yours truly,
Charles A. Reed.
The word "Houyhnhnms" is the name given by Dean Swift to an imaginary race of horses endowed with reason. It is in two syllables, hou-yhnhnms, and may be pronounced "hoo-inmz," with the accent on either syllable, but the voice ought to be quavered in sounding the "n." It is likely that Swift spelled the word so as to get a set of sounds as nearly as possible like the gentle whinny of a horse when pleased.
Aintab, Northern Syria.
Dear St. Nicholas: I saw a little piece in your magazine, in the department of "Jack-in-the-Pulpit," entitled "Persian Stoves," and I thought you would like to know that the native people in Turkey, right here, do just the same; and, to tell the truth, it is very comfortable sometimes. They call it tandoor. I have a brother in Constantinople studying, also a younger brother, and a dear little sister named Isabelle, here. We have taken your magazine ever since it started, and I think I at least shall never tire of it. Love to Jack and the Little Schoolma'am, Deacon Green, and all our old friends.—Your loving friend and reader,
Elizabeth M. Trowbridge.
Portsmouth, N.H.
Dear St. Nicholas: I am sure you will like to hear how a cat adopted a mouse, so here is the whole story for you.
A mother cat, named Tabby, had all her kittens taken away except one, and she loved and petted this one little kitten as much as one little kitten could be loved and petted. But she had a heart so full of love that she could not possibly use it all up on one kitten; so, one day, she brought home the cunningest little mouse I ever saw. That little mouse, when she found herself in the cat's mouth, must have thought there was not much more fun for her, but that Mrs. Cat was taking her home to make a luncheon upon her. But Tabby carried her very carefully, so as not to rumple her smooth coat of fur nor break any of her tiny bones. When Tabby reached home, she dropped the mouse into the warm nest where lay her kitten, and immediately began to wash off the dust of travel, just as she daily bathed Kitty. Mousey liked this so well that she remained very quiet and quickly dropped asleep.
Tabby's mistress soon became interested in the happy family, and supplied bits of cheese and other things that mice like to eat. Now and then she saw this mouse perched on the back of the sleepy little kitten, and nibbling a bit of cheese held between her two front paws. Old Tabby would raise her head from her nap, to see what the little one was doing, and the Mousey would hide her lunch in one cheek, and look so innocent that Tabby would go to sleep again. Then Mousey would out with her cheese and go on nibbling. Thus, cat, kitten and mouse lived happily together until, one unfortunate day, Tabby had company; and before she could introduce the company to her family, the company had introduced the pet mouse to itself, and had swallowed her at one mouthful. Tabby tried hard to act as if her company were welcome, but she wore a very sad look during the whole visit. This is a true story.—Yours sincerely,
A.J.B.