Part 4

We live at a country seat very near the city of Havana. It is a very pretty farm; it has many flowers and trees, two or three fountains playing bright water all the time, and also two ponds. One of them is for gold-fish. There are nineteen gold-fish, and in the centre of the pond is a cave for them to play with their little ones. In the other pond lives a beautiful white lily all alone. It is the size of a tea-plate, and as white as my paper. Then, in the farm-yards there are lots of chickens, turkeys, ducks, guinea-hens, and also two cranes. We have a pair of horses, four goats, eight or nine pigs, and eight rabbits. One of the rabbits had ten little ones, but they all died.

I am a Cuban boy eight years old. I know how to read and write in English better than in Spanish, but I can speak Spanish better, because it is my native language. Do you think this is good enough to put in your paper? My teacher sends you her regards, and thanks you for your paper because it gives us so much pleasure. She wishes me to ask the young people if any of them have read a story called _The Runaway_, and if they can tell us who is the author, and where the book can be obtained. It is one of the best children's stories she has ever read. It is about two little girls named Olga and Clara.

DOMINGO T. DE L.

Among our thousands of young readers there may be some who can answer Domingo's question about the book which his teacher likes so well. Will they send us the author's name, as we should be glad to give our little friend the information he desires?

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BLUFFTON, INDIANA.

I want to tell the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE about my pet. It is a little bird; I call it Jenny Wren. We take it out of the cage, and let it fly around the room. It has two principal places where it alights, and those two are each at the top of a window. We can make it play that it is a dead bird. It will eat sugar from my hand. I like Jimmy Brown's stories very much. I liked "Art's Organ Adventure," "Todd and Ketchum's Grate Show," "Mr. Thompson and the Bull-Frog," and lots of other stories. I just love to read the Post-office Box.

TOMMY P. S.

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ORFORD, NEW HAMPSHIRE.

I live away up among the hills in New Hampshire, almost in the White Mountains. I suppose you city boys think I am about out of the world, and don't have any good times, but I would not change places with you. I have a papa who gets lots of papers and magazines for us to read, and a mamma who is always ready to read them to us, and a grandpa who will play checkers with me, but almost always beats, a little sister who is ready for any fun, and Ida, the girl who does the housework, is very kind in helping us to have a good time, and the two men who work on the farm let me work with them whenever I wish. I know it is pretty cold when the high hills are covered with snow, but it is just fun sliding down them on my new sled. I have a pair of steers, yoke, and sled all complete; they will work like oxen. I can get up wood or ice with them; they are better than your ponies. We have three horses I can drive, and thirty cattle to tend. When it is warm weather I can go hunting for partridges, gray squirrel, etc. I don't always find any, but when I do I feel pretty big. I go fishing pretty often too. My little cousin Willie and I went up on the side of Mount Cube last summer after trout; he got forty, and I got seventy-five. But if you had seen us when we came home, you would have thought something had bit besides fish. I will say black flies were plentier than fish, but we enjoyed it. We have good clear springs of water, pure air, and plenty to eat. I think you will believe it when I tell you I am thirteen years old, and weigh one hundred and seventy-five pounds. Boys, please make me a visit. We are making sugar, and I promise you a "sweet" time. I always go to school when we have one, but that is not more than six months in a year, and I will have to attend Haverhill Academy this spring. Please pity me. I was glad to see "Mr. Stubbs's Brother." I think it is going to be just as good as "Toby Tyler."

HARRY E. M.

We are sure that many boys will wish they might go and see you in the home among the hills, where you have such a kind grandpa, and such loving parents, and so many delightful occupations. But we shall not pity you in the least that you must be sent away to school, for six months' tuition in the year is not quite enough for a boy of thirteen. You need at least nine months, under a good teacher, and so success to you, Harry, at Haverhill Academy!

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WINNSBORO, LOUISIANA.

I am a Louisiana boy eleven years old. My brother Bertie is eight, and my little sister five. If any of the young people wished to visit me now, they could come all the way in a boat. You have no idea what a sea of water covers this whole country! It never was so high here before! It has done a great deal of damage, and caused a great deal of suffering. It would make you sad to see how the poor cattle suffer from the water and gnats. The deer, too, are dying in the woods. A gentleman who came to town in a canoe said he saw six dead ones floating in the water. Deer horns are no rarity with us, as I have an uncle who kills a great many deer. They have no horns at this season of the year; they shed them in the winter. Although it is sad to see such an overflow, still it brings some fun to little boys who are fond of boating. Bertie and I and our little sister Kate spend a great deal of our time on the water in our little boat. It would make my letter too long to give you a description of our trips to the pasture to look after the cattle, and to town on errands for mamma. We have been taking YOUNG PEOPLE for nearly a year, and enjoy reading it so much! Mamma gave it to us this year, but Bertie and I have made enough to take it ourselves. I take it down to school sometimes, and our teacher reads it aloud to the pupils, who enjoy it so much!

EDDIE Y.

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Which little girl will read these stanzas, and see her own portrait?

WHEN MOTHER IS ILL.

When mother is ill, you ought to see How kind and loving I try to be. I step about in the gentlest way; I bathe her head, and I set her tray With the best of tea and the brownest toast, And whatever I think will tempt her most; And I keep the little ones, oh, so still! You ought to see me when mother is ill!

I carry the baby up the stair; I let him play with my dollies there-- I give him the one that I keep on the shelf; And I rock him to sleep just my own self. I never scold, and I never fret; I call him a darling, a pink, a pet. And I'm ever so kind to Jack and Will, Ever so patient when mother is ill.

When mother is ill, I take her place, As well as I can, with a sober face. I go to the door when father goes, And bid him good-by on my tip-toes; I watch for the doctor, and let him in, And he's sure to tip me under the chin; I help when Bridget is making cake, And a taste of the cookies she lets me take; And I baste in my dress a nice white frill, For I try to be neat when mother is ill.

What's that you are saying? You think that Nell Should do those things when mother is well?-- Should sit in the corner, like a mouse, And mind the baby, and help keep house, And be as dear as a child can be, As sweet as a lily! Oh, you shall see, Just watch me now, and I know you'll tell The folks I'm good when mother is well.

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WEST HAVEN, CONNECTICUT.

I enjoy reading your nice stories very much indeed, especially the stories written by Mr. Otis. I think Jimmy Brown's stories are very funny indeed. Mamma laughs till she cries reading them sometimes. I wonder if there ever was a Jimmy Brown.

Little boys and girls tell about their pets in their letters. All the pets my sister Mary and I have are five hens and one rooster. Specky is my hen, and I think a great deal of her; she will hold still and be patted.

I have been very sick this winter, and I enjoyed hearing YOUNG PEOPLE read to me. I am very much better now, so that I am able to write this all alone myself. I was ten years old last 22d of January. I have never written before.

BESSIE L. C.

The Postmistress assures you, dear, that she has frequently seen Jimmy Brown. How pleasant it is to be well now that spring is here! If one must be sick, winter is the best period of the year to be shut in-doors. Don't you think so?

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The wee tots must not think the Postmistress forgets them. She thinks this little story about a poor alarmed mother whose children ran away will be just what they will ask their own mammas to read to them two or three times over:

A FRIGHTENED LITTLE MOTHER.

She was a nice old mother, but not like yours, little children, because she was covered all over with feathers, and she had two wings, which, when she felt crusty, she would spread out until she seemed three times her usual size. She had always lived in the country, roaming around in the grass or scratching in the garden. She was a fluttering, fuming creature, but sometimes very civil and pretty-looking. This little mother was just an old hen.

Once upon a time she had been very quiet for three weeks. She had sat still the most of that time, and, indeed, the poor thing went half-starved often rather than forsake the little white eggs in her nest. She knew she must keep them warm, no matter what happened.

At last there came a fine spring morning, when Mrs. Hen stepped very carefully off her nest. In it there lay a mass of broken shells. She led into the sunlight a half-dozen golden balls. As they tottled along by her side, they looked very pretty. Of such a brood any mother might be proud.

Mother Hen was ever so proud. Any one could see that. She flustered about, calling one little bright speck to her, and then another, while scratching in the earth in search of something very nice for her pets.

Four weeks sped by. The country grew prettier and greener day by day. This kind mother thought she would give her darlings a treat--a sort of picnic. So off she started toward the meadow, the little brood walking after her. They went in single file through the path, the old hen's head bobbing up and down through the clover, as she encouraged the little mities waddling along to keep up with her. She came to a brook which fairly danced in the sunlight under the old willows. She drew near, and began to cluck, when, lo! her little brood stepped off all at once into the sparkling waters. The golden balls floated on the amber stream.

Poor old hen! how she fluttered and clucked and called! But all in vain; her children did not mind her. They knew more about water than she did, for these chicks were mere goslings. On they swam, and the poor hen did not know what to do.

But the little goslings came back after a while, and cuddled that night under their mother's wing.

A. E. T.

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Let me tell you a story about a dog and a cat.

Wolf, the dog, was a great stag-hound, who could run almost as fast as a swift horse.

He loved to chase cats, and was their constant foe. One morning he spied a poor gray pussy in the garden, and away he went after her in full career.

She ran as fast as she could, but her short legs were no match for Wolf's long ones. The dog's master tried to call him off, but he was too excited to pay any heed to his voice.

Suddenly pussy stopped running. She crouched in the middle of the path, and looked pitifully at the great form of her foe.

On he came, panting. Suddenly he stopped, stared, and stood still, trembling.

Pussy began to purr.

Wolf turned around and walked slowly home. He could not hurt the little creature who gave herself up to his mercy.

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CHESLEY PLACE, KENTUCKY.

I want to tell you about my baby brother. He is five weeks old, but has only been down stairs twice, as the March winds have been blowing very hard. He was born on the 20th of February, and we think he is so sweet!

There is a wild bush in our yard which bears red blossoms, and I have been gathering them, with some others, and arranging them in a box, and they look very pretty. With the red blossoms and pink peach ones, the yellow buttercups and the lovely little hyacinths, make it quite a pretty ornament.

I am ten years old. I study spelling, reading, writing, grammar, French, geography, botany, and arithmetic. My grandmamma teaches me at home. I hope my letter is not too long. Good-by.

CICELY DE G. MCC.

How glad we are to hear about the baby brother! Flowers brighten the house wonderfully. Do you make pretty bouquets for the breakfast table?

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NEW YORK CITY.

Among the eager little ones who look anxiously for the coming of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE is a brown-eyed little boy, three years old, named Carlos--called Carlie, for short. He knows all his letters, and recites some of the _Mother Goose Melodies_, and frequently makes funny speeches, sometimes to the great discomfort of his parents. While at the depot at Lockport waiting for a train, a very fleshy lady, weighing not less than two hundred and fifty pounds, came in, and very unfortunately seated herself next to Master Carlie and his mamma. He had been very naughty, and now wanted to make up with mamma. He said, "Please kiss me, won't you, mamma?" "No, no; I am displeased with you," replied she. He teased until she finally kissed him. But the kiss lacked warmth, and did not satisfy him, so he pleaded, "Kiss me again, mamma; give me a _big_ kiss--one as big as--as that big fat lady," pointing his finger at her. Everybody present laughed heartily, except the "big fat lady," who failed to see the joke.

Another time he had been unusually trying all day long, and mamma was quite out of patience, and asked, "Carlie, why don't you be good? When papa comes home and I tell how you have behaved, it will make him have a pain in his heart." He looked up from his play, and said very seriously, "_What_ makes you tell him, then?" His aunt, a very dignified, middle-aged lady, came to visit us, and of course all Carlie's accomplishments had to be shown off--the chief one being turning summersaults. After one or two failures, over he went and hurt himself against the bed. He rose rubbing his back, and looking very earnestly at his aunt, said, "Aunt Lydia, does it hurt your back when you turn summersaults?" He took it for granted she turned summersaults every day of her life, like himself. He occasionally tries to make rhymes (regardless of measure, however). One day he said, "One, two, three, a flea bit me;" and another time, in saying his letters, came to Y, said, "Y, y, y, what a smart boy am I." Every week mamma reads HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE to him, all the stories and letters, poetry, etc.; but that does not satisfy if I omit the advertisements, so they are read too. He is a queer little fellow.

"MRS. CALIFORNIA."

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GUSTAVUS W. S.--The editor would think it unfair to other exchangers to do what you propose.

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Thanks to the little friends who have found arbutus, and sent it to us. The little boxes fairly smiled at us when opened, and the sweet shy perfume of the flowers was like a kiss from Spring herself.

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IRENE.--Messrs. Harper & Brothers have recently published a practical little volume entitled _Money-Making for Ladies_, by Ella Rodman Church. It gives many excellent suggestions to girls who, like yourself, are anxious to find some pleasant way of adding to their incomes.

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GERTRUDE H.--Although we do not think your story, "The Morning Ride," quite good enough to print, we like it very much as the composition of a little girl who is only eleven years old.

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LOUIS P. P.--_Bancroft's History of the United States_ (new edition) will be adapted to your purpose. We do not advise the organization of a formal club. One or two friends and yourself will do better work if you read with each other when you can conveniently meet.

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C. Y. P. R. U.

DOLLY.--The Postmistress advises you not to mind a few freckles or a little deeper brown on your skin, but to go out every day and walk in the sunshine and fresh air. Begin by taking short walks, and going home before you are very tired. Try to keep the mouth closed, and breathe through the nose. You may walk a little farther each day than you did the day before, as you grow stronger. The bright eyes and rosy cheeks of health will soon make up for the pallor you lose, and the freckles, if they come, will be little beauty-spots. Do not wear a veil unless it is very windy indeed, but tie on a large shade hat. Try a little gardening. With a sun-bonnet and a pair of long loose gloves you can protect your complexion thoroughly, if mamma desires you to do so, and you will have hours of real delight among your lilies and roses.

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THEODORE.--Whether the reform in spelling, of which some writers and scholars are in favor, will be adopted by people generally I can not tell. Of course it would be a good thing if our English spelling could be more uniform, but at present the best way for your friend and yourself, and for a Postmistress too, is to spell according to the standard dictionaries. The English language is derived from many sources, and there is danger that in spelling words by their sound we may lose some of their sense, as we find it, by tracing the word back to its root. It is quite interesting to notice what great changes have taken place in our spelling and grammar by comparing our style of the present with that of some of the earlier authors, as Chaucer, for instance, or Spenser. If you will take your New Testament, and turn to the parable in Matthew, vii. 27, where allusion is made to the two men who built their houses, the one on the sand and the other on the rock, we read: "And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it." In the version of Wycliffe, in 1380, the same text is given as follows: "And rayn came doun, and floode's camen, and wynde's blewen, and thei hurliden in to that house, and it felle doun, and the fallying doun thereof was grete."

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Members of the C. Y. P. R. U. will find in this number a variety of articles from which to choose. The boys will be interested on "Chats about Philately," describing the postage stamps and cards of the far-off colony of Surinam, while the girls will welcome "The Orchestra of Yesterday and To-day," another of Mrs. John Lillie's entertaining articles on music. Mr. William L. Alden tells us, in his humorous fashion, "How Jumbo Crossed the Ocean." Mr. A. W. Roberts has something interesting to tell us about the curious plant which our Irish friends find so palatable, and to which they apply the curious name of "Dellusk." It is top-time too, and we have an article by "An Old Boy" which ought to make us all successful as top-spinners.

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PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

THREE EASY DIAMONDS.

1.--1. A letter. 2. An instrument. 3. A tree. 4. An animal. 5. A letter.

2.--1. In leaf. 2. A liquor. 3. A stone. 4. Finis. 5. In tent.

3.--1. A letter. 2. Before. 3. To wrong. 4. An animal. 5. A letter.

HELEN S. H.

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No. 2.

TWO ENIGMAS.

1.

My first is in Ernest, but not in Dora. My second is in Arthur, but not in Willie. My third is in George, but not in Flora. My fourth is in Larry, in Lem, and Lillie. My fifth is in Demas, but not in Dan. Tell me my name, little boys, if you can.

A. T. F.

2.

First in down, not in up. Second in saucer, not in cup. Third in ivory, not in bone. Fourth in sound, not in tone. Fifth in yes, and not in no. Whole in meadows is seen to grow.

BY A LITTLE GIRL AGED SEVEN.

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No. 3.

AN ACROSTIC.

1. The duty of the besieged. 2. Something soldiers do. 3. A good way from morning. 4. Not continents. 5. Faint answers. 6. A shelter. 7. A rush. 8. A small hole. 9. A busy place. 10. A warbler. 11. A bird. 12. A motor. 13. A high place. Primals compose the name of a celebrated statesman.

EDDIE.

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No. 4.

FOUR EASY CHARADES.

1.

My first a silken gown may wear. My second crown sweet golden-hair. My whole, though on no map outlined, Is a state full well defined.

2.

Harry hurried home from school, Famished as a boy could be. With my first he did begin, With my second ended he.

3.

Such a sight as Jennie was, Playing by the door; But my second brought my first To the child once more.

MOTHER BUNCH.

4.

My first is soft and fleecy, My second is hard and tough, My whole is a thing of beauty, And will stand usage rough.

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No. 5.

WORDS WITHIN WORDS.

1. A nobleman in jewels. 2. A seed-vessel in a wrap. 3. An owl's cry in small branches. 4. A strong drink in soldiers' quarters. 5. A margin in an account-book. 6. A little stream in the stem of a tree. 7. An entranceway in stones. 8. A mountain in a fiddle-string. 9. Everything in partitions. 10. Fishing-tackle in snarls.

J. P. B.

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ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 127.

No. 1.

1. Maple. Birch. Pine. Elm. 2. Genoa. Athens. Oxford. Omaha.

No. 2.

A damsoni A N enupha R E b B M oinea U O palescen T N and U E ya S

No. 3.

Scamp. Coat. Speck. Strap. Flower. Squills. Grace. Taunt. Mace. Prink. Thatch. Swill.

No. 4.

"The May-Queen."

No. 5.

Parrot.

M T H O E L E T M O U N D T E X A S E N D T A P D S

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Correct answers to puzzles have been received from Florence H. Chambers, Helen S. H., Henry Berlan, Jun., George P. Taggart, Nan T., Alice Mabon, William Binney, "Owl," Jack Bolcher, Fanny Green, Jennie Van Winkle, Tom Talbot, A. F. Ford, "Silver," Eda L. Baldwin, Hattie Sylvester, George Sylvester, George M. Baird, H. R. G., "Phil I. Pene," Jacob Marks, Maggie Thompson, W. S. Rose.

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[_For Exchanges, see 2d and 3d pages of cover._]

EBONY AND PEARL.

BY JOSEPHINE POLLARD.

Our Dinah has a baby That you really ought to see; Its skin is black all over, Like a piece of ebony; Its hair is black, and curly too, And Dinah never fails To braid it so it stands around Its head in little tails. We play together now and then, And both of us get hurt; But Dinah's baby seldom cries, And never shows the dirt, Is real good-natured all the time, And that's the reason, maybe, Why everybody makes a fuss With Dinah's little baby.