PART II.

The wind suddenly grew very cold, and blew the trees angrily, and turned their leaves the wrong way, until it seemed like a furious storm. It had been still, and the sun had been hot and glaring, but suddenly the air felt like autumn, and our friends looked around every now and then to see the shower chasing them, and covering the hills and woods with heavy white mist. The fragrance of the wet pine woods was very sweet, and the coolness was delightful, but the clouds looked strangely yellow, and as if a great deal of rain would pour out of them presently, while there were flashes of lightning every now and then, and distant thunder began to growl among the mountains.

"It will be here in a few minutes," said Jack, looking at his sister anxiously. "I'm awfully sorry, Alice." And they both hurried; as if by walking fast they could get away from the rain. "And our clothes have all gone to North Conway! how shall we ever get dry?" he added, ruefully; but Alice laughed.

"You know we were all drenched coming home from Gorham that day. It wasn't very bad, and it won't be chilly like this for very long, at any rate."

The first great drops of the rain began to spatter among the leaves, and our friends found the shower at first very refreshing, but when their clothes became so soaked that the weight of them was something surprising, and streams of water began to run along the road, they did not like it so well; but they made the best of it, and laughed heartily, though they were both beginning to feel very tired, and wondered if there would never be an end to the woods. It was growing darker too, and if some one did not drive by before long, it would be most discouraging. Early in the afternoon they had passed several loaded carts, besides pleasure parties that were driving to or from the Glen House, but for some time there had not been a traveller on that part of the road except themselves.

The rain ceased falling; it had been a heavy shower, but luckily it did not last long. They had taken shelter under a great beech-tree when it had become altogether too hard work to walk, and Alice wrung the water out of her skirts as well as she could, and they started on again.

The clouds looked very heavy, and the sunset was a very pale one, and it seemed to be growing dark early. In that deep valley the twilight begins much sooner than out in the open country, and Jack and Alice had lost so much time already that they were a good way from the house they meant to reach by seven o'clock, and just after that time Alice said, despairingly:

"I don't believe I can walk much further, Jack. I'm ashamed to give in, but I don't think I ever was so tired in all my life."

"I'm tired myself," said Jack; "it's the hardest walking I ever did; but I suppose there is nothing to do but to go on. I think it's very odd that it is so long since we have passed anybody."

Alice went on without saying any more for a little while, but at last she sat down by the road-side, while Jack stood at her side and waited uneasily.

"I think we are getting out of the track of the shower," said he. "Suppose we go on a little further, and find a good dry place, and build a camp fire, and get dry and rested at any rate. I begin to feel like an old jelly-fish trying to roll along on his edge."

Alice laughed, and started out again. It was really getting to be drier footing, and the air felt warmer, and it was not long before Jack touched the earth with his hand, and said that he was sure there could be nothing but dew on the ground, and they might as well stop. They listened and listened for the sound of wheels, but even the thrushes had stopped singing, and all they could hear was a brook tumbling over the ledges, and the cry of a hawk or an owl far in the woods.

Jack chose a safe place at the side of a great rock, where there seemed to be no danger of setting the woods on fire. It was so dark they could scarcely see, but they heaped up a pile of pine-needles and dry twigs and birch bark, and it seemed very cheerful when they had lighted it. Jack was delighted because Alice had some little wax matches in the bag he carried on his shoulder, and I think the first flicker of the fire gave a great pleasure to both our friends.

"I'm going to find some larger wood," said Jack, "and then I am going to cook the fish. I shall starve to death. We are like the Babes in the Wood, aren't we? Get as near to the fire as you can, Alice, and you'll soon be dry."

They had a magnificent blaze before very long, and Alice hung her jacket and wet, heavy skirt on stakes beside it. They were in a little open place not far from the road, and Jack began to tell stories of his experiences the summer before when he had been off on a fishing and camping-out excursion with some friends in the Maine woods.

Alice had heard them all before, but they were none the less interesting. She had always wished to camp out herself, and this experience was, after all, a great satisfaction, now that she was a little rested, and was getting dry and comfortable. It was not so bad to be damp even, but she hated the thought of going any further that night.

In the lunch-box there were still some hard crackers and a paper of salt, and after Jack had baked his three trout--and he did not do it badly either, for a guide had taught him once how to wrap them in some leaves and dig a little place in the hot ashes for an oven--they ate their supper, and were as jolly as possible. The fire was a great success; they had gathered all the old dry wood they could find, and at last they were willing to let it go down, for it was growing too hot: the night was warm at any rate. They sat together on the slope and leaned against the rock. The trout had been very good--they only wished there had been more; but they were very comfortable, and they watched the strange shadows the flickering light of the fire made among the trees. They were neither of them a bit afraid, and presently Jack was silent for a few moments, and his sister found that he had gone to sleep.

She would not wake him, she thought; he might sleep a little while just as well as not, and they could go on if they liked an hour later. By that time the moon would be up, too. Alice looked up through the branches at the stars; there was an old hemlock almost overhead that was like a roof, but there seemed to be very little dew falling.

The mosquitoes were beginning to be troublesome, now that the fire was down, and she said to herself that she would get some more wood presently if Jack did not wake--and in three minutes more she was as sound asleep as Jack himself.

He waked first; it was late in the night, and the moon was high in the sky. The fire was out, and at first he could not think where he was; but Alice was there, sure enough, and the hemlock-tree, and the rest of the woods. He felt a little stiff and chilly, and he started to his feet to look around, and suddenly he heard two or three roosters crowing, and at that sound he began to laugh.

"Alice! Alice!" said he; and his sister waked quickly, but was even more bewildered at first than he had been.

"I never slept better in my life," she said, sleepily. "There's nothing the matter, is there, Jack? Ought we to go on, do you think? I am as stiff as Rip Van Winkle, and my arm is sound asleep." And she sat up and rubbed her eyes.

"Will you listen to those old roosters?" asked Jack, going into fits of laughter, and Alice laughed too. "There must be a house close by," he told her, "and we thought we were cast away. I suppose if we had walked ten minutes longer, we must have seen it." And they gathered up their possessions and took the road again. I do not think they cared to take another nap on the ground. Jack said that the mosquitoes had had their Christmas dinner in summer that year, and though he did not confess it, his neck was very stiff, and they both began to sneeze with great energy.

There was really a small house about an eighth of a mile away, and our friends walked about it and surveyed it in the moonlight. A sleepy little yellow dog appeared and barked at them, and after Jack had pounded at the door for some minutes, some one opened a window and asked what he wanted.

"Can you take two people in for the night?"

"'Deed I can't," said the woman, snappishly. "We don't keep tavern. Young fellows like you better be to home this time o' night. Trampin', I s'pose, ain't ye? The men-folks is all to home here, so ye needn't try to scare me."

"I'm not a tramp," mentioned Jack, with great dignity and politeness. "We started to walk through from the Glen, but the shower stopped us a while, and it got dark, and we didn't know we were near any houses until we heard your roosters crowing. We've been asleep in the woods."

"Oh!" said the woman, in a different tone. And after a minute's meditation, she added: "Well, you kin go into the barn, I s'pose, and sleep on the hay--on your right hand 's you go in; it's new hay. We ain't got a spare bed in the house. I do' know's I kin do any better for ye."

Alice was in the shadow, and at some little distance from the house, and she and Jack laughed as they went to the barn. "She said there was some new hay, didn't she?" Alice asked. And as they laid themselves down in it, it seemed a most luxurious bed. There was an old horse in the barn, who looked at them with astonishment as they opened the door, and the dim light shone in upon him. The dust made Alice sneeze worse than ever, and she watched the moon shining through the cracks of the barn, and after a good while she went to sleep again.

Early in the morning somebody came to the door, and our friends waked unwillingly.

"My good land sakes alive!" said the woman who had talked to them from the window. "Why didn't ye say there was a lady with ye? I looked round for your mate, and I couldn't see nothing o' nobody. I took it for granted ye were two young fellows, and I was all sole alone. My man's gone down to North Conway, and I thought I wouldn't bother to get up and let ye in. Well, I am mortified and ashamed. You should ha' had the best I got. I hope ye ain't got your death o' cold. 'Twas a warm night, though. Wan't ye eat up with 'skeeters? Why hadn't ye spoke, young man?"

"I don't know," said Jack. "I supposed you knew. I didn't think. My sister was right out in the yard there." And they all laughed.

"I'll get ye some breakfast anyway," said the woman, who seemed very good-natured that morning, though she had been so cross the night before. "I've got a nice young fowl picked all ready, and I'll have her fried with a bit o' pork in no time at all. Come into the house now, won't ye?"

Such a breakfast as our friends ate that morning! and such a pleasant ride as they had to North Conway afterward! for Mrs. Dummer, their hostess, was going there to meet her husband, who had gone down some days before. It was too hot, they thought, to walk the rest of the way, and yet there was a fine breeze blowing. I think they were a little tired after their experience the night before, but they were young and strong, and the wetting did not do them a bit of harm after all.

Mrs. Dummer brushed and cleaned Alice's dress for her--at least they did it together. It was blue flannel, and made short in the skirt, and so, after it had its crumples taken out by a little ironing, it looked as well as ever.

Mrs. Dummer seemed much excited by their adventures, and she was sorry to part with her guests. She had not been married very long, she said; she had lived at North Conway in a boarding-house for several years, and it was a great deal livelier there in the summer-time. She did not know how she was going to like living 'way up in the woods on that lonely farm after cold weather came. But she said, shyly, that "he" was real good company, and that her sister was going to spend part of the winter with her.

"If you would come and stop a while some time, he'd take you off fishing," she told Jack; "he's a great hand to go off for trout." And Jack promised to remember the invitation the next summer.

It seemed an uncommon adventure at the time, and our friends enjoyed it on the whole, only they were sorry afterward they had not walked all the way to North Conway, and poor Jack never has ceased to mourn because nobody can ever know how much his big trout weighed.

THE END.

MOWING.

Into the fields both young and old With gay hearts went: The pleasant fields, all green and gold, All flowers and scent. And first among them old man Mack, With his two grandsons, Harry and Jack-- Two eager boys whose feet kept time In restless fashion to this rhyme: Sharpen the scythe and bend the back, Swing the arm for an even track; Through daisy blooms and nodding grass Straight and clean must the mower pass.

There are tasks that boys must learn, not found In any book-- Tasks on the harvest and haying ground, By wood and brook. When I was young but few could bring Into the field a cleaner swing; But you must take my place to-day, Cut the grass, and scatter the hay. So sharpen the scythe and bend the back, Swing the arm for an even track; Through daisy blooms and nodding grass Straight and clean must the mower pass.

Straight and clean is the only way-- You'll find that out-- In other things than cutting hay, I make no doubt. So be sure through the nodding grass Straight and clean with your scythe to pass; It is far better than any play To mow the grass and to toss the hay. So sharpen the scythe and bend the back, Swing the arm for an even track; Through daisy blooms and nodding grass Straight and clean must the mower pass.

COURBEVOIE (SEINE), PARIS.

I am a little girl five years old, named Emma. I have lived over a year in France with papa and mamma and my little sister, although we were all born in America. Our home is on the beautiful river Seine, near Paris.

I have already crossed the great Atlantic Ocean three times. My grandpa in America has taken HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE for me since the first number, and my mamma reads many of the stories to us. I have asked mamma to write and tell you some of the sights of every-day life in France. I can neither read nor write myself, but I will tell mamma what to write about, and she will express it better than I could. The French people enjoy living out-of-doors. If they have only a tiny garden no larger than some of our grass-plots in America, they buy an iron table, chairs enough for the family, and perhaps two or three others for relatives or friends who may come to take a meal with them, and then they eat out-of-doors, enjoying themselves around these little tables in the garden more than they would staying in the house.

They are easily pleased, these French people, in the country. In the summer they have many charming fêtes. Every little town or village in France has, at some time during the warm weather, a fête. A convenient piece of land is taken possession of or else rented by the authorities in charge of the fête. They sub-let small portions of the land just large enough for each merchant to erect a table upon, like our tables at fairs in America. The merchants bring their families with them, for the fête lasts several days. They sleep in the large wagons in which they bring their articles for sale, and they set up little stoves, each with a long pipe attached, and there the women cook their meals. The "draught" out-doors is sometimes very troublesome, and the poor women have hard times to prepare their dinners. Each merchant spreads out his array of goods on his table in as tempting a manner as possible, and over each table is arranged a little shed to protect the goods in case of rain.

At these fêtes in the country one meets all the world. There are the doctors, the lawyers, and all the grand people, as much amused and pleased as the laborer in his blue blouse. Besides the tables of goods, there are many funny things to make people laugh. There are balloons sent up in the air--not great balls shaped like immense pears, but made to represent men, women, and little boys and girls. These are colored to show their faces and hair, their bright waists, skirts, or trousers, and then they are inflated with gas and sent off in the air. They look very funny as they float away higher than the houses and trees, like great fat men, women, and children. I have been at fêtes with my mamma, and have seen gentlemen and ladies laughing as merrily as the peasants at these droll balloons. Sometimes, when not properly inflated, they come tumbling down, and then the spectators fairly scream with delight.

At the fêtes, too, they have odd-looking circus tents, where for fifty centimes (ten cents of American money) one can see the poorest circus shows imaginable. There are queer views of all kinds--fires, murders, and earthquakes. These exhibitions may be seen for about three cents.

The other day we saw at a fête a sort of panoramic view of what goes on in a person's stomach after eating salt pork sent from America. The French government is opposed to receiving salt or smoked pork from America, because it is said that trichinæ have been discovered in it. In this exhibition we were shown the stomach as it should be, and the stomach after its owner had eaten American pork. The effect was very startling, the various organs and intestines twisting about in the most bewildering manner possible.

They have wooden horses with women's heads of different nationalities, French, German, African, and Russian. These wooden horses go round very rapidly, a real horse turning the machinery which sets them in motion. You can have a nice ride for two cents, to the music of a hand-organ.

But I shall weary you if I tell you any more. Perhaps I will write again, and describe more of the life of the people who dwell in sunny France.

A. F. H.

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FRESNO CITY, CALIFORNIA.

I want to tell you about my little rooster. He is a very pretty brown color, so we call him Brownie; and one of the story-books says that Brownies used to be good to little babies, and that's another reason why we gave him the name. Now I'll tell you what he did to deserve being named after a Brownie. My mamma bought him to eat; but he got away, and, the next day here he came fussing and scratching with five baby chicks--three of them little downy fellows, the other two a little older--with their little tails and wings just growing. He took the best care of those chickens. It was funny to see him. He was only just broiling size himself, but he would ruffle up and try to fight big hens if they came too near. He didn't know how to brood over his babies, but he would sit down and let them snuggle under his wings and feathers the best way they could. He doesn't know how to cluck, either; but he makes his little rooster sounds in the nicest, softest little voice you ever heard. There's one old hen--old Graywhack we call her, because she's gray and whacks all the other chickens--and she's so cross that all the rest are afraid of her, and run away, cocks and all, when she comes up to them. But Brownie doesn't; he bustles up and makes almost as much fuss as she does, and this always, though he gets a whack now and then.

His biggest chicks are big enough to take care of themselves now, and they are so pretty, both little black hens, and we call them Nig and Blackie. The cats killed one while it was little, but he still has two, and takes as good care of them as ever. He is learning to crow first-rate now, though sometimes he squawks awfully.

Mamma reads me all the stories every week, but I like "Toby Tyler" best of all, and I think the man who shot Mr. Stubbs ought to have been very sorry.

My mamma wrote this for me.

MAYNARD D. (6 years old).

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I have twenty-five different kinds of birds' wings that I would like to exchange for birds' wings from Florida or California. Also an Indian flint arrow-head and spear-head, iron, copper, and gold ore, white sand from Galveston Bar, Texas, gray sand from Cape Hatteras, sea-shells, barnacles from a wreck, fresh-water shells, etc.; would like to exchange for other minerals, ores, fossils, and petrifactions. Write before exchanging.

I have never walked, being paralyzed in my lower limbs from birth, yet I manage to get around. I have a team of white goats, Billy and Bob. With them I go gunning, and travel sometimes five or six miles. I enjoy fishing and boat-riding. I built myself a little skiff, and called her _Little Eva_, and in this I sail out of the Brandywine into the broad waters of the Delaware, and am often gone for hours. I have lots of fun, although I never took a step in my life. I am always jolly. I have served papers for three years, and make from three to four dollars a week. I did not lose a day last winter; no matter how cold or snowy, my customers would always know that Johnny and his well-known team would be faithful. I will send a photograph of myself and team to editor if desired.

J. S. JEFFERIS, 1502 Walnut St., Wilmington, Del.

The picture you give of a brave sunny disposition, which makes the best of things, instead of pining and fretting, is a very attractive one. We hardly need the photograph of yourself and your sturdy team, because your pen has made us see you quite plainly. Still, if you send the photograph, we will be glad to look at it, and it shall be given a place of honor at the head-quarters of the Post-office Box. Never to have taken a step in one's life seems like a great hardship, but instead of moping about it, you have resolved to be as busy, useful, and happy as you can. No wonder your customers wait until you are ready to come along to serve the papers. We are glad you can go for a sail in the skiff, and that you have so many pleasures and resources.

But, Johnny, we are sorry that you shoot the birds, and we fear you do, or else how have you collected so many birds' wings? We wish the little girls who read Our Post-office Box would decide that when they grow up they would wear no wings nor plumes in their hats, and that the boys would all resolve to be bird protectors. If any who read your letter are possessed of pretty feathers or wings, we shall not object to their exchanging with you, but we do not want to think that any poor birds will be deprived of their lives, on purpose, because of this. We are glad to print your letter, birds' wings and all, on account of its manliness, and the lesson it gives us to accept the situation, whatever it is, and do our duty in it cheerfully.

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BEDFORD, OHIO.

I have had YOUNG PEOPLE from the first, and have all the numbers except two or three. I liked "Toby Tyler" very much, and if the new story shall be as nice as that was, I for one will be satisfied. I have read a number of Jimmy Brown's stories at my school, and they make everybody laugh. The one about the pig was very funny.

I have a very pretty kitten, but I can not decide what its real name is, for papa calls it one name, mamma another, my sister something else, and I something else still; but it answers to the name Kitten whoever calls. Good-by for this time.

NETTIE E. H.

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NEW YORK CITY.

I am so glad to get my dear little paper every week. I liked "The Moral Pirates" ever so much, and "The Cruise of the 'Ghost'" is splendid. But dear little Toby Tyler was best of all. I wish we could hear more about him.

MADIE L. F.

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I take YOUNG PEOPLE from a news dealer in Jacksonville. I like "Toby Tyler" and "The Cruise of the 'Ghost'" the best of all the stories.

I live on an orange grove on the St. Johns River. I read the story of Coachy in No. 50, and the letter of Bessie Rathbun in No. 87. I have a Coachy that will eat out of my hand. My brother had one, but she ran away, and we never could find her. We have a little dog named Jetty. She is black and tan. I have a Coachy rooster also.

My little brother has a yellow hen that we raised, and he calls her Greeny. Whenever he tries to catch her, she stops right still till he has her. She always pecks anything he is eating. She used to lay in the house, but she don't now, because we won't let her.

I have a large copper cent of 1818 and one of 1819; also, some Florida moss, water from the St. Johns, and an ounce of soil. I will exchange any of these things for foreign stamps, coins, Indian relics, and curiosities of any kind.

F. C. SAWYER, Beauclerc Bluff, Fla.

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WYOMING, ILLINOIS.

This is my second letter to HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE. I have had my first volume of YOUNG PEOPLE bound into a book, and I intend to bind every volume.

I liked "Mildred's Bargain," "Toby Tyler," and "Susie Kingman's Decision" very much, and also think "Aunt Ruth's Temptation" and "The Cruise of the 'Ghost'" very good.

Jimmy Brown's stories are very funny. I am very much interested in the colored school at Woodside, North Carolina, and hope to send the children some books.

HATTIE G. S.

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WOODSIDE (NEAR LINCOLNTON), NORTH CAROLINA.

KIND FRIENDS AND CHILDREN,--The mail on Saturday, July 16, brought me packages from David Shipman and Fred Tocque, Brooklyn, N. Y., John W. Slattern, New York city, and Belle Wallace, Luzerne, N. Y. Many, many thanks for the books you have sent; thanks, too, for the kind notes and letters that some of you wrote. It would give me great pleasure to see you all, and talk with you. The old numbers of YOUNG PEOPLE will all be new to these children. Dear Fred and Belle's lesson papers are very nice; and oh, how we all wished you could have seen our happy scholars on Sunday, with new books and the bright pretty cards! My children help to teach them, and they were happy too, and were particularly delighted at Pete's little Leonard with a Golden ABC primer; the little fellow almost danced for joy. Uncle Pete was much pleased with the appeal in YOUNG PEOPLE; and when my little daughter read it to him, he kept saying, "Dot's ez-ac-er-ly so," with his eyes rolled up so that you could see only the whites, as he always does when very happy.

We hope, from the books that have already come, that the school-house and organ will come too. We want to paint the names of all of you who help, inside the house. It will seem that you are sharing in the good work if your names are in view, and it may be that in the days to come some of you may find your way to this out-of-the-world place, and see the fruits of the dimes you are now saving.

Since I wrote the above, four little packages have come--two unmarked, one from Mary O'Neil, Rochester, N. Y., and one from N. J. Logan, Jun., Logan's Ferry, Penn. Thanks again for kind wishes and helping hands. Thanks, too, to the mamma who wrote that sweet letter, and who used to live not so very far away from here. Pete's Ida is _so very happy_ with a new reader and a "sho'-'nuff" copy-book, as she calls it.

Good-by, dears, for this time.

(MRS.) ALICE RICHARDSON.

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NEWBURGH, NEW YORK.

I have taken YOUNG PEOPLE since the twenty-third number. I am eleven years old, and began going to school when I was seven, and in the last two years I have not missed a single day. I was promoted to the Fifth Reader the last term. I read "Studying Wasps," from YOUNG PEOPLE, to my class, and they were very much amused. I have had very good teachers, and love them dearly. I have joined the Trinity M. E. Church, and go to Sunday-school. My pastor is the Rev. W. N. Searles, formerly of New York. I have an excellent Sunday-school teacher, and I try to remember what I am taught.

ALBERT J. B.

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AN IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION.

I accept the office of President of The Young People's Natural History Society, and will do all in my power to make it a success. I am in a dilemma about how long my term of office will extend. As I am only a boy, I have some fears that I may not prove equal to the position, but I will do my best.

In regard to girls, I would say certainly admit them.

The question of money will, perhaps, cause discussion. Some persons think that regular dues should be paid into the treasury every week, or whenever a branch meets; others think that an initiation fee of twenty-five cents should be paid whenever a new member joins. I would advise to charge no dues nor initiation fees whatever. If any necessary expenses occur, they can be met by a personal contribution by any member, or by mutual consent of the members of the special branch it can be settled in any way--except as above--they may deem proper.

To our city members who are now in the mountains or by the sea-side I would say, Keep your eyes open, and find out all you can about what you see, and let us know all about it. To our country members, and those who do not reside in the large cities, I would say, Be especially diligent in finding objects of interest, study them well, and report to us your progress.

You can find on the salt-meadows and along the sea-shore the bench pea and the wild bean, and many quaint prickly plants, such as the salt-wort and samphire; there are also the sabbatia, marsh-mallow, and rose-mallow. In the fresh-water swamps and ponds, the swamp milkweed, button-bush, the balsams, cardinal-flower (gorgeous in its red), and near it the great blue lobelia, wild yellow lily, sun-dews, blue veronicas, arrow-heads, pickerel-weeds, sweet-flags, and cat-tails. On the hill-sides and shady ravines, the flaming azaleas, the great laurel, the aromatic winter-green, pine-sap, and the coral-root. In the rocky woodlands there are countless varieties of asters, golden-rods, thoroughworts, and corn-flowers.

There are many other varieties growing all over the land, in the shady glens, in the sunny meadows, or in the forests, and even on the summits of our highest mountains.

In answer to some young folks in the West about grafting rose-bushes, etc., I give below what a prominent pomologist recently told me.

He said that the first thing necessary was a sharp flat-bladed knife, which should be kept for this purpose only. If it does not cut smooth and clean, the two edges will not fit well together. He then cut a graft, having cut off a branch of a bush to correspond; the two were matched as nearly as possible, and bound tightly together by a plaster spread with grafting wax, which can be procured from any farmer or at a seed store. The object of this was to keep the sap in, and to exclude all moisture, which would be sure to cause decay in the wood.

One or two other styles were shown and explained, such as _tongue_ and cleft grafting. The graft itself is cut like a wedge, and a cleft made in the centre of the stock, into which the slender point should be fitted closely, and then well covered up with wax. One thing, he said, must always be remembered: the graft must be placed, not in the centre of the cleft, but toward one side, so as to cause the inner layers of bark to meet in a line, at least in one place. The reason of this is very plain; for when the sap begins to ascend into the new graft, it will follow this inner bark, and so, in a like manner, the descending sap will soon flow downward to form new wood, and unite firmly with its main stalk. Instead of sending down roots into the ground, as cuttings do, it strikes its forming wood into the stock itself, and soon becomes a part. _Tongue_ grafting, or, as some call it, whip grafting, is done by making notches in each to correspond as nearly as possible, and is somewhat preferred, because it is likely to hold the two parts more closely together and in their proper places.

In conclusion, if any members of our society would like to have me visit their branch in the vicinity of New York, I shall be happy to do so, and hope that my presence there may make the meeting pleasant and instructive; and that this letter may increase your interest in natural history is the wish of your President,

CHARLES H. WILLIAMSON, 293 Eckford St., Brooklyn, N. Y.

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PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLAND.

I have been visiting in a place where there were no papers for sale, and therefore I had to wait till yesterday for three numbers of YOUNG PEOPLE. I think that the Natural History Society will be very nice, and I shall at once lay a paper before the Providence society for the collection of coins, stamps, curiosities, and minerals, of which I am president, with a view to including natural history. I am very impatient to hear from "The Cruise of the 'Ghost,'" for I am much interested in it. I was very nearly drowned, about a week ago, in the river.

I have secured a very few nice stamps to exchange lately, and if you will put my offer into the paper, I will be much obliged. One Persian, two South African Republic, one Nouanggur, one Deccan, one Buenos Ayres, and two United States locals, to exchange for good Indian curiosities, arrow-heads, coins (good ones), stones from noted places, and rare stamps. Please write to arrange exchange.

HOWARD R. GUILD, 101 Waterman St.

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BOSTON, _July_ 22, 1881.

DEAR "YOUNG PEOPLE,"--My little girl is sorry that many of her exchanges are not yet made. Her list is a very long one, and her stock gave out some time ago, so she has not answered any new correspondents. But she and her papa (I should have put papa first) have a careful list, and this summer they hope to collect curiosities enough to begin new exchanges, as well as to pay all the old debts. I think if some of the mammas knew all I know on this subject, they would--well, they would say, "Bless you, yes; never mind the trouble; it is worth it."

"WEE TOT'S" MAMMA.

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Several juvenile collectors of minerals, sea-shells, pressed flowers, Indian curiosities, relics, etc., are organizing a society for the collecting and exchanging of such articles, and as we have not appointed officers yet, we would like to hear from young people who would like to join us. We expect to have members in foreign countries. Could any one mention a nice name for our society?

ROBERT C. MANLY, Winnipeg, Manitoba, Can.

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BABYLON, LONG ISLAND.

I thought I would like to tell the boys and girls where I am spending the summer. We have a splendid cool house here in Babylon. I go sailing, rowing, riding, and bathing. The places here are very handsome, and many people have lakes and ponds in their grounds. Two papers are printed here every week. We have a hotel and a horse-car. Today we set a trap to catch a squirrel. Babylon is on the Great South Bay, where there are all sorts of fishing and splendid sailing; but sometimes we have very heavy squalls, and sometimes we are becalmed. They have just finished the new railroad dépôt, and we have a large park. There are five churches here, and three of the Sunday-schools have an annual picnic.

I have no pets, except a dear little cunning baby sister, who sings and dances very prettily. I look forward to YOUNG PEOPLE's arrival every week, for it is very good company. I have a brother, with whom I have great fun boating, and two sisters. We get lovely pond-lilies in the season. They smell so sweet! Summer is the best part of the year.

My father is a captain in the Seventh Regiment, N. G. S. N. Y. I suppose some boys and girls don't know what N. G. S. N. Y. stand for, so I will tell them. Those letters mean National Guard, State of New York. Papa's company is Company B. The armory is a very handsome building, covering a whole square block, and each company has a room of its own. Papa goes to the city of New York every morning. We have spent three summers in Babylon, and are very fond of it. I am twelve years old.

HENRY F. S.

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H. H.--COFFEE.--The coffee-tree grows wild in Asia and Africa. It sometimes grows to a great height, but is usually kept down by cutting to about five feet, so that the berries can be easily picked. The plant is raised from the seed, and is set out in the coffee plantations when one year old. It begins to bear when three years old, and continues productive for twenty years. The leaves are evergreen, and the flowers and fruit are often seen upon it at the same time, as, like the fig, it bears several crops during the year. The fruit looks like a cherry, is red or dark purple, sweet, and good to eat. The seeds of the fruit, gathered and dried, produce our coffee beans. Coffee has been used by Oriental nations for ages, but it was introduced into Europe about three hundred years ago. The first coffee-house was opened in London in 1652. A French gentleman, Captain Desclieux, brought the first coffee-plants to America, about one hundred and fifty years ago. He procured them from the Jardin des Plantes (Garden of Plants) in Paris. The sea was rough, and the voyage was long, and finally the crew and passengers were put on an allowance of drinking water; but the good captain divided his with his coffee-trees, and succeeded in bringing one safely to Martinique. All the coffee-plants in America came from that one.

Coffee is grown in Brazil, Java, Sumatra, India, Ceylon, Arabia, Abyssinia, Central America, the West Indies, Venezuela, the United States of Colombia, and Peru. The very best is Mocha, which comes from Arabia; but the next best, which is good enough for epicures, is brought from Java. A good deal of so-called Java coffee, however, comes from Brazil, which raises half the coffee in the world.

* * * * *

Dellie H. Porter writes that her stock of tomahawks is exhausted, and that she received nearly five hundred applications, and of course could not answer them individually. She hopes no one will be offended at her silence.

P. H. Mayer has no more minerals.

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L. C. H.--Insert an advertisement of inquiry in the Melbourne papers. You may hear of your brother in that way.

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Sammie Risien, Groesbeck, Texas, wishes to hear from Charlie K. S., Lake Eutis, Florida, with regard to the culture of the pine-apple. Please tell him, first, when you plant the pine-apple to produce a crop; second, Can the plants be sent by mail?

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S. R.--Carbolic soap will probably alleviate the sufferings of your unfortunate dog. Wash him thoroughly with the soap and tepid water at least once a week. Spratt's soap is sold by dog-fanciers for the purpose of destroying fleas.

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JOHN J. H.--Directions for building such a boat as you desire were published in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 23, Vol. I.

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Leigh Wilson, Bolckow, Missouri, wishes to know the address of a forgetful correspondent who sent soil and stone in a parlor match box, without name or residence. W. A. Miller, Tarrytown, New York, wishes a similar favor from a correspondent named Elliott.

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Nettie Prau, John M. Furman, and H. Jagoe withdraw from our exchange list, their supplies being exhausted.

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H. E.--Both new and cancelled stamps are available in a collection. Postmarks are not marks on stamps, but are the marks placed on letters at the post-offices to indicate when they are sent and when received.

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Correct answers to puzzles have been received from Sammie Risien, Lewis A. Storrs, Eddie S. Hequembourg, _Robert R. F._, J. W. and D. A. S., Susie Howes, "_Chiquor_," "Tim and Tip," "Venus," Clare Campinan, "School-Boy," "Old King Cole," Lyman Shorey, "Princess Daisy," "Lodestar," "Will O. Tree," _W. R. Githens_, Alice C. Hammond, Bert Fuller, R. N. Pepper, "Comet," Mary E. Burchard, Luella M. Harper.

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PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

CHARADE.

My first is what all men require My second's self to make; My whole is what old folks desire When they their ease would take.

FRANK NELSON.

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No. 2.

DIAMOND.

1. Indispensable in boxing. 2. A wooden pin used on board a ship. 3. Surfaces, or planes. 4. Something which is becoming very popular. 5. To waste away. 6. Crafty or cunning. 7. Found in a store, but not in a shop.

CHIQUOR.

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No. 3.

CHARADE--(_To Douglas_).

My first around the world doth glide Within my second's roomy side; My whole a useful thing is reckoned, Though seldom first, and often second.

NORTH STAR.

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No. 4.

ENIGMA.

My first in fair veranda is, but not in narrow porch. My second's in a burning lamp, not in a flaming torch. My third you find in garments new, and not in fabrics old. My fourth in any daring crew, and also with the bold. My fifth is in the tame and soft, not in the rough and wild. My sixth is in the mother good, not in the naughty child. My seventh's in the bonny boat, not in the glancing oar. My eighth is in the little grain, and is not found in more. My ninth is in the tender flute, not in the noisy horn. My tenth is in the currant red, not in the ripened corn. My whole, a name of ringing sound, Is heard wherever wheels go round-- A railway man, whose fame, 'tis clear. Has filled our Western hemisphere.

W. SCHERZER.

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No. 5.

HOUR-GLASS PUZZLE.

One of the Territories of the United States. A river in France. A tarrying-place on a journey. A letter. A vegetable product. A mountain in Asia. A peninsula in the southern part of North America. Centrals read downward spell the name of another of the Territories.

JESSIE A. ALBA.

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ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 90.

No. 1.

C S M O P O L D C O M E T S L O O P P E T D O G T P

No. 2.

Money.

No. 3.

By hammer and hand all arts do stand.

No. 4.

C O M E E B R O O R A L B A I T M A I L R I O T E L L A O T T O

No. 5.

1. Cord. 2. Dark. 3. Cart. 4. Trap. 5. Flat. 6. Atom. 7. Hare. 8. Tint. 9. Spar. 10. Corn. Zigzags.--Carpathian.

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[_For exchanges, see third page of cover._]

HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.

SINGLE COPIES, 4 cents; ONE SUBSCRIPTION, one year, $1.50; FIVE SUBSCRIPTIONS, one year, $7.00--_payable in advance, postage free_.

The Volumes of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE commence with the first Number in November of each year.

Subscriptions may begin with any Number. When no time is specified, it will be understood that the subscriber desires to commence with the Number issued after the receipt of the order.

Remittances should be made by POST-OFFICE MONEY-ORDER OR DRAFT, to avoid risk of loss.

HARPER & BROTHERS, Franklin Square, N. Y.

CHARADE.

BY BONBON.

My first is under lock and key, And often kept in chancery, Or in a prison-house maybe.

My second, you will find, is made In every style, of every shade, And gracefully on forms displayed.

My second in my whole may be Retained with great security, If in my first you turn the key.

A PERSONATION: WHAT AM I?

I lay imbedded in a cavern, struggling faithfully for days, weeks, and even months, to see the light. I was rewarded for my perseverance one day by coming in contact with a hard object, which shone brightly, and made a ringing sound. Instantly I heard loud laughter, as though my appearance was very welcome. Presently I felt a soft, damp substance touch me, which at first surprised me very much; but as I found it was a near neighbor, I soon became acquainted with it.

As soon as I had grown large enough to be useful, I was washed every morning, and properly taken care of, for which I repaid my owner by making myself as useful as possible. I had the bitter as well as the sweets of life, but it was not until my later years that I knew what it was to really suffer.

I was one day attending to my duty, when I experienced a shocking and most acute pain, which so affected my mistress that she immediately took me to a very kind man, who relieved me of the cause of my trouble. It was found that I had become somewhat discolored from frequent use, so the physician had to attend to me several times. At last he succeeded in restoring my health, which resulted in lengthening my days; and though rather aged, my owner still considers me of great use.

MUD BOWS.

There is a form of archery in the Madras Presidency, in India, which is popular with young British officers. The bows have two strings, with a connecting patch in the middle. The missiles are _golees_, or balls of sun-dried clay, a heap of which is dutifully provided every day by the _malees_, or gardeners. The targets are usually crows, hawkers, or other objectionable natives, or fragile and inexpensive earthen pots. Experts attain surprising range and accuracy with these rude contrivances. Novices are apt to smash or grievously bruise their left thumbs with the projectile on its discharge, no little skill being required to direct it clear of the wooden part of the bow.

FAGOTS.

Disentangle the lines composing the bunch of Fagots, Fig. 1, trace each of them carefully upon a piece of card-board, cut these into the general shapes of the lines drawn upon them (see Fig. 2, which represents a bit of card-board with a fagot drawn upon it), and arrange them so that the "fagots" will form an outline drawing of an animal.

THEN AND NOW.

BY W. T. PETERS.

When skies were overflowing, When noisy winds were blowing, And all the land was cold, We went abroad, scarce knowing That dandelions were growing In gay rosettes of gold.

But when the skies were bluer, And all the land looked newer And lovelier for the rain, When every cloud was banished, The dandelions then vanished, _And but their ghosts remain_.

MORAL: _Small boys should be satisfied with small fish._

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, August 9, 1881, by Various