The Little Schoolma'am respectfully hands over this question to other little schoolma'ams.
Dear St. Nicholas: I make so many of the "Thistle-Puffs" spoken of in the September number that I thought I would let you know how I fix mine. After I get the thistles I cut off all the green excepting a little at the bottom; then I pull out all the purple, and leave them out in the sun till they are perfectly round white balls. They are very pretty in hats. Please put me down as a Bird-defender.—Your constant reader,
Alice Gertrude Benedict.
Exmouth, England, August 27th.
Dear St. Nicholas: I have read the story of the "Blue-Coat Boy," and like it. I am in England, and almost every day see a Blue-Coat boy pass our house. I think he looks like the picture in the St. Nicholas. I should not like to wear the long coat, because I couldn't run in it; and I should think he would get a sunstroke, without a hat, if he ever goes to the beach. Aunt Fanny is like my mamma; she never asks for the right thing at the shops. I like the St. Nicholas, and wish another one would come. My aunty gave it to me for a Christmas present for a whole year.—Your friend,
benedict Crowell.
We are very glad to see the interest which our readers have taken in the subject of "School-luncheons." Many boys and girls have sent in letters, thanking us for the article in our September number, and filled with sage bits of experience. We should like to acknowledge these separately, and print some of them, but can do no more here than express our thanks to our young correspondents, one and all, for their kind and hearty words.
It will interest them all to know, however, that the article has attracted attention, and aroused enthusiasm among the older people too,—their fathers and mothers, and teachers, and even their favorite writers. For here, among the many letters it has brought us, is one that is peculiarly welcome. Our readers will have little difficulty in guessing who the writer is:
August 26th.
Dear Little Schoolma'am: Being much interested, as well as amused, by the luncheon article in ST. NICHOLAS for September, I should like to add one more to the list of odd luncheons.
A pretty little dish of boiled rice, with a cake of molasses, or preserve of some sort, in the middle. This, fitted into a basket, and covered with a plate, goes safely, and, with the addition of a napkin and two spoons, makes a simple meal for hungry children.
It may find favor in the eyes, or rather mouths, of the young readers of St. Nicholas, not only because it is good, but because it was the favorite lunch once upon a time of two little girls who are now pretty well known as "Meg and Jo March." It may be well to add that these young persons never had dyspepsia in their lives,—pie and pickles, cake and candy being unknown "goodies" to them.
With best wishes for the success of this much-needed reform in school-children's diet, I am, yours truly,
L. M. A.