Father Washington left us united and free, And John Adams repelled French aggression at sea; Boundless Louisiana was Jefferson's crown, And when Madison's war-ships won lasting renown, And the steam-boat was launched, then Monroe gave the world His new doctrine; and Quincy his banner unfurled For protection. Then Jackson, with railways and spoils, Left Van Buren huge bankruptcies, panics, and broils. Losing Harrison, Tyler by telegraph spoke; And the Mexican war brought accessions to Polk. Taylor lived not to wear the reward of ambition, And Fillmore's sad slave-law stirred up abolition; So, compromise failing, Pierce witnessed the throes Of the trouble in Kansas. Secession arose Through the halting Buchanan. But Lincoln was sent To extinguish rebellion. Then some years were spent Reconstructing by Johnson. Grant lessened our debt; Hayes resumed specie-payments; and Garfield was set On Reform, which, as Arthur soon found, came to stay. Now for President Cleveland good citizens pray.
Greenville, S. C.
My Dear St. Nicholas I have been a subscriber to your charming magazine for over three years, and have never yet read a letter dated Greenville, S. C., so thought I would write to you from that place. Greenville is a city in the upper part of South Carolina. It is divided into two parts by a small river which runs through it, and on which are several cotton-mills. It is about thirty miles from Cæsar's Head, a mountain said to bear a striking resemblance to a profile view of the human face. It used to be a stopping-point for travelers on their way to Greenville. During the very severe weather last winter, we thought that our town, instead of being called Greenville, should be named after some snowy berg of Greenland.
It seems to be the custom of your correspondents to give their ages and a minute description of their occupation, so I will follow. I am fourteen years old, and have never been to school a day in my life, my mother having always taught me at home until this year, when I have a tutor for Algebra and Latin. I continue the study of French with my mother, using Fasquelle's Grammar and reading a pretty story called "Le Petit Robinson de Paris," besides having lessons in English composition, geography, history, declamation, music, and drawing.
I am a lineal descendant, being a great-great-granddaughter, of "The Martyr of the Revolution," as he is sometimes called, Colonel Isaac Hayne, who was hanged by the British, and of whose execution at Charlestown a very interesting account is given by Ramsay, in his "History of South Carolina." My grandmother had a lock of Colonel Hayne's hair. It was a beautiful chestnut color, and had a slight wave through it. I am also a cousin of the poet, Paul Hayne.
I like all the stories in St. Nicholas, but my favorite is "Little Lord Fauntleroy," who seems to be a second Paul Dombey, with his quaint, old-fashioned sayings. I hope he will not die shut up in the gloomy castle, with his cross old grandfather, away from the companionship of "Dearest."
With best wishes for the welfare of your delightful magazine, I remain,
Your devoted reader, Marguerite H.