Clayton, Iowa.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought I would write to you to tell you about our little town of Clayton. It is a beautiful little place, of about three hundred and eighty inhabitants, situated on the Mississippi River. There are two large flouring-mills, two saw-mills, and a large hoop factory here, where all kinds of straps and hoops are manufactured by machinery. First, the poles are sawed into certain lengths; then they are taken to the splitters, to be split. They are then taken to the planers. After going through this process, they are bunched into bunches of fifty each. Then they are ready for shipment. They are made of hickory, white oak, and birch.

It is very pleasant to take a boat-ride on a summer eve, with the banks on either side of you covered with long green grass, and flowers of nearly all descriptions bending down into the water, while in the woods all kinds of birds are cluttering and chattering, and the ducks are quacking around you, all of which makes it very pleasant.—Your constant reader,

H.R.

Baltimore, Md.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I would like to know why it is that the wife of General George Washington is called Lady Washington? I do not think that we have ever had any lords or ladies in our country; so if you know the reason why, I would like to know.

E.M.

Can any of our boys and girls answer this question?

Somerville, N.J.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: As I wish to contribute a little to the "Letter-Box," I will send you a little poem written by my sister Allie when she was nine years old.

OUR BABY.


Little Bertha is my sister,

And she is two years old,—

A cunning little darling,

Whom I love to hold.


You ask her whom she loves best,

And she'll say "Papa Lou."

You ask her whom she loves next,

And p'r'aps she will say "You."


You ask her what her name is,

And she'll say "Bertie Lou."

But then, she's sometimes naughty,

And sometimes so are you.


Little Bertha is my sister,

And she's as cunning as she can be;

With a dimple in each cheek,

And a dimple in each knee.


And I guess most people love her,

For she's as cunning as she can be;

But then, sometimes she is naughty,

And that's the way with you and me.


My darling little sister

Always sleeps at night with me;

And, as I said before,

She's as cunning as she can be.


A.C.H.

Roseville, N.J.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We thought perhaps you would like to hear about our pet sparrow "Bob." We have had him since last July, and he is just as cunning as he can be. He was so young at first, he could not fly, and slept in a little box, with a piece of flannel over him; but now he roosts on a nail in the sitting-room bay-window. We do not keep him in a cage, but he goes all over the house, and does just as he pleases. He has had plenty of chances to fly out, but seems to be happy and contented, and makes himself perfectly at home. When we are eating, he helps himself to anything he wants, and is not a bit bashful. He loves honey, and will eat all he wants, and then wipe his bill on any one's dress or on the table-cloth. He will jump on papa's whiskers, and pull mamma's hair-pins out of her hair, steal her needle, and do many other mischievous things. He has chosen one of the gas-globes for a nesting-place, and carries bits of cloth, strings, or any such thing that he can find, and puts them there. He tries to sing, and has learned several of the canary's notes. We catch him sometimes, and put him under a hat, to tease him. He then gets angry, pecks the hat, and scolds at the top of his voice. We have a rabbit and a guinea-pig, too; but if they come into the room where Bob is, he will fly at them and peck them till they run out. Every one who sees him thinks he is a wonderful bird, and we should feel very sorry if anything should happen to him.—Yours truly,

ELLA AND EDWIN H.