Part 4

MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS,--There are so many things I want to talk to you about that I am almost afraid to begin this letter, for fear I may take up too much room in the precious columns of the Post-office Box.

Our great feast and Christmas pleasure is over. The tree, thanks to your dear, generous, kind little hearts, was a perfect success. We had some nice garments of clothing for them all, toys and books for the children, and candy for every one. They were so happy! I would have given almost anything to have had you all here to see the tree you had done so much to make, and to see the happy school. Some little ones who were so eager to taste it, and could not get into their candy quickly enough, sucked the sweet through the lace bags that it was in. In fact, we were all very happy; as my children said, it was the "best part" of Christmas to us all.

More new scholars keep coming all the time. We want to start a school also for the many poor little white children, who need one as badly as the colored ones did; so you see I will have use for the books, papers, and all the other things you may send.

I must thank the lady who sent the presents to my own family; also thanks for the _Scribner_ and _Nation_ sent me; and, once more, thanks to the little boy who sent me the pretty Christmas card. The work on the school building will begin immediately. I will write you when we have it done. I have kept all your names; they are all to go in there in paint on tablets. I have not quite decided _how_. I will write you again when it is done, for I am going to do that part myself. Packages, Sunday-school papers, and cards have come from kind hearts and hands in many places, and in every instance have been appreciated and used where they were needed. The one cent sent by many little children was accepted with much pleasure, as were the nice large boxes of clothing, candy, and toys sent by many kind ladies. Uncle Pete was radiant when he came to wish a Happy New Year in his nice suit that had grown on the tree for him, with all the others in their nice wristlets, mitts, and the other welcome gifts that they received. They have been smiling ever since Christmas. Adieu, dear friends.

Truly yours, MRS. RICHARDSON.

Mrs. Richardson inclosed as usual a list of the names of the kind friends who make her their almoner, but we have not room for it among the good things which crowd the Post-office Box this week. They will each please accept her general acknowledgment as intended to include every individual.

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FAYETTE, NEW YORK.

I am a little boy six years old. I have not taken HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE very long, but I like it very much. I have a pet cat which I call Nero. I have also nine bantams; one I call Gyp, and I often bring him in the house and set him on the back of a chair, and then I say to him, "Crow, Gyp," and then he crows very loud. My pa has a farm about two miles from the village where we live. We often drive over there, and I enjoy it very much. I have no brothers nor sisters, but I have a nice little playmate named Edward, who lives across the street. I am just beginning to write a little, but not well enough to write myself, so I told mamma what to write.

ROY H.

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OAKDALE, PENNSYLVANIA.

I thought I would write you a letter and tell you of two nice games, one for in and the other for out doors. The one for the house is called "Going to Jerusalem." One person plays the piano, or makes some kind of a noise. Place the chairs in a row across the room, every other chair in an opposite direction, one less than there are players to go round the chairs, and when the music stops, each player must sit down, and of course one will be left out. Then one chair is taken away, and the person who could not get seated can not play any more, and so on until there are but two players going round one chair, and the one who gets seated goes to Jerusalem, and wins the game.

The other is called, "I Spy the Wolf." One is wolf, and the others hide their eyes and count, and the wolf hides, and when done counting they go and hunt the wolf, who when spied runs and tries to tag somebody before they tag base, and if so, both are wolf. When the wolf is spied, the person must say, "I spy the wolf," and run and tag base. The game is finished when all are wolf.

I am ten years old. I found two dandelions to-day, January 9.

MARY E. O.

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PALATKA, FLORIDA.

I live on the St. John's River, opposite Palatka. We have a fine orange grove. We are having bananas this winter, although most of our neighbors lost theirs by the cold last winter. We will have plenty of guavas next summer if we don't have a "freeze," and I hope we may not. I wish some of the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE were here; we would have lots of fun. I have a puppy three months old. His name is Toby Tyler. I hope Mr. Otis will come to Palatka with his boat. I am nine years old.

T. ROBERT P.

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We hope the bright eyes that have been watching for the flowers that this mild winter has made, like Ben Buttles, "dretful venturesome," will before many weeks of ice and snow be reporting from the South first, and afterward from colder localities, the earliest out-peeping of the spring darlings. There is a stanza of Mrs. Whitney's which we like very much:

"God does not send us strange flowers every year; When the spring winds blow o'er the pleasant places, The same dear things lift up the same sweet faces, The violet is here."

We must have storm and snow first, dears; but courage! the violets will be here by-and-by.

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CALUMET, MICHIGAN.

Will you make room for another stranger?--one who from her cold Northern home, wishes to come into a corner of the Post-office Box to be warmed and comforted. Will not some of the writers to the Post-office Box tell of their Christmas vacations, and how Santa Claus treated them on his journey round the world Christmas-eve?

We have a debating society here, in which all the boys and girls, and grown folks too, are very much interested. We meet once a week, and have, besides the debate, one or two essays, a reading, declamations, and music, and altogether have a very enjoyable time.

Then we go skating on the lake, and coast on the terrific-looking hill behind the town. We go with our sleds to the top of the hill, and slide all the way down, and away out on the lake, without stopping.

We have a very pleasant school, too. Where the boats come in, in the summer, we can look right down over the town, and see everything that is going on.

RAY R.

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BUFFALO, NEW YORK.

I am a little boy three years old. Have taken YOUNG PEOPLE from the first number. Mamma reads the stories and letters, and tells me about them, and I am every day measuring myself to be big and do my own reading. On the 26th of December we saw dandelions peeping out of the grass, and looking out to Lake Erie, wondering what had become of all the boats of last summer. Mamma had a bunch of cherry blossoms on New-Year's Day. One of our neighbors cut a bunch from a cherry-tree in November. The buds were very large then, after the warm rains. The water was changed every day; now it is covered with blossoms, and the leaves are coming out.

I have a little sister Ruby, and we have great fun together. When papa brings YOUNG PEOPLE, he takes her on his lap; then she teases to have me get up, and says, "Come, Bover," and "Up, Bover," and will not look at the pictures until I am up too. Then we enjoy them together. Mamma is writing this for me. I hope soon to write for myself. A Happy New Year to HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE!

ERNEST.

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C. Y. P. R. U.

"OLD MORTALITY."--Sir Walter Scott's novel of _Old Mortality_ is one of the recognized masterpieces of English literature. Its scenes are laid in Scotland during the reign of Charles the Second and James, his successor, a period which was characterized by intense religious excitement, and fiery struggles between the Royalists, on the one hand, and the Covenanters, or Presbyterians, on the other. In this novel Colonel Grahame, of Claverhouse, cool, dauntless, and insensible to pity, is one of the central figures. There is a tender love-story running through the book, but its main interest, after all, is derived from its splendid descriptions of battles and forays, which stir the blood to enthusiasm, and rouse the martial impulse which is latent in the most tranquil natures. The third, fourth, and fifth chapters of _Old Mortality_ are full of power, and of that vivid word-painting which is the highest style of writing. They possess the Homeric quality of dramatic movement and majestic strength, and for reading aloud on a chill winter night, when the wind is raging outside and the fire is bright within, they are surpassed by nothing else that the Postmistress remembers.

"Old Mortality" himself is scarcely an ideal character, as Sir Walter drew his portrait from a peasant who for thirty years wandered through the western districts of Ayr, Galloway, and Dumfries, spending his time in freshening the inscriptions on the graves of the martyrs. Mounted on a gaunt white pony, his gray locks straggling beneath an immense blue "bonnet," his old coat of hodden-gray the worse for years of hard service, his feet incased in hobnailed shoes, and his limbs covered with leggings of strong black cloth, this old man, whose real name was Robert Paterson, went from one church-yard to another among the wild moors and lonely hills, removing the moss from the rude tombstones, and deepening the fading letters with his chisel. He lived from house to house, entertained by hospitable farmers, who revered him, and finally, when very aged, was found expiring upon the highway, his faithful white pony standing on guard by his side.

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WILLIE F.--Your idea that time spent in the study of the dead languages is lost time, and that you would prefer to devote yourself wholly to your native tongue, is perhaps a natural one, but it is based on an error. Latin and Greek are dead languages in the sense that they are not spoken in any land by living people to-day. But they are not dead in the sense of having lost their vitality. They enter largely into our modern languages, and no one can be a precise and thorough scholar in English without some acquaintance with Latin at least. Study your Latin grammar patiently, as your teacher advises, and though you do not yourself see what good it will do you, believe me that after a while you will find yourself repaid. There are some things which we must acquire by way of discipline, for it is the disciplined mind which does the best work with ease, just as the trained soldier can march farther and fight better than the raw recruit.

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The Postmistress is fond of looking up the history of words. Some common words have a very curious history. For instance, demijohn, a glass bottle covered with basket-work, is a sort of puzzler. Why is it demijohn? Why John at all? Or if John, why half-john? The truth is, it has nothing to do with John; but was first manufactured at a town called Damaghan, in Khorassan, a province of Persia, a place once renowned for its glass-workers.--Calico, which is so dainty and pretty, and which the little girls wear to school in summer, derives its name from Calicut in India, from which handsome cotton goods were once imported to England.

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There are two articles in this paper that we want the members of the C. Y. P. R. U. to read, because they will add to the stock of solid and valuable information that the society is endeavoring to store away in eager, appreciative minds, viz., "The Waves at Work," by Mr. Charles Barnard, and "The Scullion who became a Sculptor," by Mr. George Cary Eggleston. But there are two others that we want the boys and girls to make the basis of prompt and energetic action. To begin with, we want the article "On Cigarette Smoking" to produce such an impression that the stoves and ranges in all houses inhabited by the coming men of the next generation shall have a grand smoke, consuming in the operation all the compounded horrors in the way of bad paper, bad tobacco, dirt, opium, etc., that we now see defiling lips and destroying the nerve and brain power of the gallant lads to whom the world will soon look for the wit, the wisdom, the sagacity and the command, that shall keep her moving in the right direction. Then we want nobody to omit the sketch of "A School Restaurant," with its pretty illustrations. Papas and mammas do not like to say no when their pets ask them for pocket-money, and the pocket-money is nearly sure to go to the confectioner's till. Suppose you all ask your parents and teachers to consider our idea of a school dinner nicely served every day. Most of you are sensible folk, and know just as well as your physicians, or the Postmistress does how much brighter, better, and rosier you would feel and look if you could have a hearty nourishing meal to sustain you through the labors and pleasures of the latter half of the day.

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PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

HIDDEN TREES.

1. Please bring me a pin, Ella dear? 2. We could not sleep last night, for we heard the croaking of ravens. 3. Bring me the map, Lena, and help me find the Amazon. 4. Elma is going to boarding-school, and so are Jessie and Sue. 5. Has Helen her books, and has Arthur his slate? 6. I was stung by a wasp or a bee, Charlie. 7. Don't go near the fire, Emma. 8. Tom, bring me your cap, please. 9. What did you do with the tape, Arthur?

PSCHYE.

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No. 2.

CHARADE.

My first is sometimes used When boys are very bad. My second's oft abused, And then 'tis very sad.

A pet name is my third, To boys it does belong. My whole's a native bird, Three notes compose its song.

TOBY TYLER.

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No. 3.

NUMERICAL ENIGMA.

I am composed of 49 letters. My 5, 24, 39, 24, 31, 33, 29 is a peculiarity of the moth's tongue. My 12, 42, 25, 38, 40, 10 is something the bee uses. My 1, 22, 26 is peculiar to the feet of some birds. My 1, 46, 12, 2, 14, 2 is a kind of deer. My 19, 43, 19, 24 is a large bird. My 11, 32, 44, 28 is an animal. My 23, 16, 3, 46, 7, 42, 28, 12, 4, 42, 45, 36, 45 signifies change. My 9, 17, 47, 21, 49, 49, 13, 8 enables insects to feel. My 18, 21, 29, 30, 45, 46, 37, 6, 45 is the first change of a caterpillar. My 34, 15, 49 is part of a fish. My 42, 28, 17, 48, 20, 21, 42, 28, 4, 30, 10, 41, 21, 24, 45 is a strange animal. My whole contains a useful animal.

PAUL.

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No. 4.

BEHEADINGS.

Behead a sharp, quick noise, and leave part of a chain. Behead a wooden shoe, and leave a bulky piece of timber. Behead learning, and leave metal in the rough. Behead a part of a carriage, and leave a part of the body. Behead a useful implement, and leave an apartment. Behead soft mud, and leave delicious ripeness. Behead part of a whip, and leave a tree.

LITTLE MOLLY.

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No. 5.

A RIDDLE.

I am numerous, yet but one. I am found in the rare and curious, and still am in general use all over the English-speaking world. I am found in every school-room, and no collegiate course is complete without me. I am valuable in geography and history, and the poets could not well get along without my aid.

EDNA A. GUERNSEY.

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ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 114.

No. 1.

Addition.--1. Hoodwink. 2. Feather. 3. Capuchin. 4. Philippine. 5. Cornice.

Subtraction.--1. Reserved. 2. Coward. 3. Basket. 4. Market. 5. Socotra.

Multiplication.--1. Pa-pa. 2. So-so.

Division.--1. Adieux. 2. Tick-tick. 3. Chow-chow. 4. Frou-frou.

No. 2.

Wink-el-ried.

No. 3.

Ygdrasil.

No. 4.

N R O D R O M A N N O M I N A L D A N D Y N A Y L

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Correct answers to puzzles have been received from Ralph Birdsall, Agnes L. Hawley, Edgar Seeman, J. C., "Queen Bess," Louis Burnett, Amy Lee, Grace Arrowsmith, "Peggy," Boland T. C., "Mother Bunch," Earle Demarest, Schuyler Lamb, "Fill Buster," Mamie and Clara Blank, Robert Andrews, Jun., Johnnie Miller.

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

THE SPECTRE SPECS.

I have seen a great deal of fun and laughter produced by a very simple little device, which I call the Spectre Specs.

A large party of people at a small country hotel were yawning away the evening, as they often do in such places, when the inspiration seized one of the most able-bodied yawners to do something to break up the monotony. Taking into his confidence little Tom Wittles, an admirable boy, with a large faculty for fun and mischief, he induced that youth to purloin his grandmother's spectacles. With this modest instrument and a paint-box belonging to one of the guests, they retired to a bedroom, where the gentleman painted the surface of the spectacles all over with white paint, and then neatly cleared a round spot in the centre of each glass. He then painted a couple of pointed eyebrows on his own forehead with black, and put on the spectacles. Then he tousled his hair, and twisted a few threads of white and red worsted amongst it. This gave him an appearance awful to behold, of which Fig. 1 gives but a very faint idea.

Thus transformed, he walked into the dimly lighted parlor doorway, and inquired in a deep voice of the other yawners whether a gentleman of the name of Samercanderoffsky was boarding in that hotel. There was no more yawning after that.

When all the company had completely recovered from their surprise, the gentleman retired again to his chamber, and began to transform Tom Wittles. He first painted a pair of eyebrows in the middle of the boy's forehead, and then slightly altered the eyeballs in the spectacles so as to give them the appearance of a squint. Placing them on Tom's forehead just above the real eyebrows, he told him to close his eyes. He led him into the parlor, and introduced him as the son of Mr. Samercanderoffsky. Fig. 2 is his portrait. Of course there was no surprise now, but the lad looked very funny, and produced no end of laughter with his long face and melancholy expression.

One word as to the material to be employed in painting the spectacles. Chinese white, such as artists use, is all that is needed; but as very few people are apt to own such a thing, perhaps the best plan is to cut two oval pieces of white paper the shape of the spectacle bows, with a round hole in the middle, and stick them on the back of the glasses.

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, January 24, 1882, by Various