Please print my letter, as it is the first I have written to any paper. I got a good many Christmas gifts, among them a canary. I named her Soldie. I want to join the P. S. My fault is getting angry. I mean to try real hard and break that horrid fault. I would like a badge. I think you are real lovely. I would like to see you. I am your constant reader and loving little friend. No one helped me about my story.
Eliza W. Holland.
ELIZA’S STORY.
(Ella’s Lesson.)
Ella Smith was six years old. Her mother told her to take care of the baby while she went up street. Ella went into her mother’s room for the baby. The bureau drawer being open, she thought she would take a peep. Naughty Ella! in it lay three large oranges. How good they looked! She said to herself, “I will just touch them.” They felt so mellow she took two large bites. When her mother came, she punished Ella. Never did she peep into her mother’s drawer again.
Dear Pansy:
I am trying to overcome my fault, which is putting off, and not starting the moment I am spoken to. I like the whisper motto. I have your picture and think very much of it. I have a pansy bed, and when I look at it, it makes me think of the Pansy Society.
Ula Cook.
Dear Pansy: