P.S.—I have a cat by the name of Pussy Hiawatha.
Covington, Ohio.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Would you like to know how I came to get you? I worked for you. My brother made a bank for me out of a cigar-box, and said if I put ten cents into it every week, I could begin taking you in November. That was in March. Sometimes, I could not get the ten cents, but I made it up the next week, and more, too, if I could; and before July, I had more than enough to pay for you. After that, I saved nearly enough to buy me a suit of clothes. I am working for you for another year. My age is twelve. —From your constant reader,
W.H. PERRY.
The following is sent to us from Josie C.H., aged eleven years, as her own composition:
SOME THINGS WHICH WE EXPECT IN YEARS TO COME.
Some boys, when they go to school, expect to learn. When they are a little older, they expect to go to college; and then, to learn trades and professions, and to become men. The farmer, when he plants his seed in the spring, expects a harvest. The merchant, when he buys his goods, expects to sell them at a profit. The student expects to become a lawyer, minister, etc. All boys expect to become men. We often expect things that never happen, but what we expect we cannot always get; yet we can try for them, which is a good rule to go by.
THE TRUE STORY OF "MARY'S LITTLE LAMB."
Saratoga Springs, N.Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you what I read lately in a newspaper about Mary and her lamb. Mary herself is now a delightful old lady of threescore and ten, and this is her story: