The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 28, 1896, Page 27

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDA ~ JUNE 28, 1896. Be sure to read all the letters to-day. They are fine! As good as a new story- book. One away from Minnesota, too. Why, how many bright boys and girls are becoming acquainted through Childhood’s Realr All boys and girls worth know- ing. Now this week you have another picture about which you're to write a story. Do your very best and don’t forget to closely follow these instructions: Writein a good plain hand, on one side of your paper, =nd do not forget to sign your name and state your age. fi)a)"_s- ‘éfivehong. Now the days are long and bright, And the blossoms pink and white With sweet perfume fill the air Round about us everywhere; And in places warm and sunny Every flower is filled with honey ; And the bees all hum a tune In these golden days of June, Gath'ring sweets where’er they go To lay up for winter's snow. 0, sweet children, must not we Now be wise s little bee? 8o when gone is summer’s bloom, With its wealth of sweet perfume, We will have for days not sunny In each heart a litie honey. CHE PRIZE POEIR. THE STORY OF A YOUNG WRITERS, TEMPTATION. D. BY JUDITH SPENCER. “Write a poem! I never can!” “Nor I1” **Nor I1” 3 “Perhaps it won’t be so hard after all. And we've three whole weeks to do it in, you know,” said Ned Martin. “QOh, yes; we all know it’s easy enough for you to write, Ned,” said Jack Dale. “And as you always get the composition prize, of course you'll win it again this time.” “I’m not so certain,” said Ned, jauntily. But the boys all agreed that it was “‘a dead sure thing,” and Ned soon began to think so- himself. It was just after school and the boys had assembled in the big hall to talk things over before they separated for the rest of the day. During the last hour Mr. Dean had given out that their next composition was to be in the formof a poem; and each boy had drawn a folded paper containing his sub- ject, which was to be kept to himself, ana he was to write his verses without consult- ing any one and without outside help. Each was also to sign an assumed name, so that even Mr. Dean should not know who the writer was until after the an- nouncement of the prize-winner. On the appointed day the best poem was to be read aloud, and when the signature was afterward read out, the boy to whom it belonged was to rise. ‘Chere was much talk about the forth- coming poems as the days passed on, and much groaning and comic despair. Evi- dently the Iatent genius that Mr. Dean was hopeful of discovering was too well hidden to be easily brought to light, or perhaps was lacking altogether. - " Among the boys the opinion was, as it had been from the first, that Ned Martin was sure to win, for he was alwaysa clever fellow with his pen. And Ned did not contradict them, for now he was most anxious to get the prize and keepup his reputation for cleverness. But still, two days before the appointed time for hand- ing in the compositions he was as far from ‘having written his poem as -ever. His eubject was “Content,” and he had not found the theme inspiring. Ideas would not come, words would not rhyme and there was no such thing in him as hythm ! flly;.twas raining hard that afternoon and the ball game had been put off. Not know- 1ng just what to do Ned had betaken him- self at last to theattic and was rammag- ing through an old chestful of thingsthat had belonged to his father when he was abAoga there he came across a little old tettered book, without covers or title page, yellow with age and dampness, and in this—on one of those yellowed pages—he found a printed poem, just what he wanted to say, and in words so plain and simple that it seemed as if any schoolboy might have written it. Here are the lines: Happy the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breath his native air In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire; Whose trees in summer yield him shade; In winter, fire. Blest, who can unconcernedly find Hours, days and years slide soft away In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day, Sound sleep by night; etudy and ease Together mixed; sweet recreation, And innocence, which most does please With meditation. Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; Thus unlamented let me die; Eteal from the world, and not a stone Zell where I lie, Ned felt a sudden temptation to copy it, 4ll but the last verse, which he did not like, making one or two changes in the words, perbaps, and to hana it in for his own poem. The book, whatever it was, was 80 very old that there was not one chance in a thousand that Mr. Dean had ever seen it or would ever discover the fraud. And Ned now felt certain that he had wanted to say something just like this all along, only the ideas and the words would not quite come. The boy was not naturally dishonest or deceitful, but he had never been so tempted before, and he did want to keep up his brilliant record and get the prize. Thiswas his only chance, he thought, and so he copied the verses, and the next morning he dropped the carefully folded paper into the box that had been set up to receive the compositions. But it had no sooner left his hands than he would have given all the world to re- call it. Not till then did the full realiza- tion of what he had done come over him. He had stolen another’s work and claimed |itas hisown. What did it matter that | the real author was dead and forgotten | long ago, the theft was just as bad and 1 Ned was miserably unhappy. 1 He'tried to see Mr. Dean after school. | but Mr. Dean had an engagement and had | hurried out. He had only one hope now, and that was that some of the other boys had written something so much better that his poem would be quite eclipsed and | so be passed over without notice. It did not seem likely, but still Ned fervently hoped that it might tnrn out so, and he ; resolved that never again should the hope of a prize or of anything else whatever gaping as if he had at that moment awak- ened from a very sound sleep. As soon as he got his eyes wide open and saw his little master he wagged his tail and barked ‘“‘bow-wow-wow,”’ which was his way of saying ‘‘zood-morning.” *‘Oh! you dear doggie, where have you been? I'm in lots of trouble, Fido; I can’t find my coat. Didyou see anything of it? And Georgie took the dog in his arms as he poured into his sympathizing ears the story of his woes. “Mamma, mamma! Come here, quick!” he suddenly shouted. Mrs. Curtis came running quickly to see what could be the matter. “Oh, mamma, Fido smells just like my coat! I had peppermint lozenges yester- day, and his hair is full of the smell of peppermint!” “Well, my boy, find the place where Fido slept last night, and your coat may be there too.” So over he ran to the box in the corner, and there, sure enough, was the missing garment. So the dreadful ‘‘somebody’’ who had taken the coat was his own little pet dog, who had not been satisfied with only a blanket for 4 bed. Now whenever Georgie blames ‘some- body” for taking his things, his mother tells him to go and look in Fido's box. MARIE CHESWORTH. A True Story 0f a Wild Goose That Was Not Such A Big Goose After All. One dey while two gentlemen were out hunting they found a nest containing a couple of wild-goose eggs. The hunters were very kind, for, as they passed our house on their return to town, they stopped and gave the eggs to my mother. She set them under a tarkey hen, and in three weeks two beautiful green goslings were hatched. I shall describe them carefully, for may be you little City boys have never seen the young of the wild geese. ‘When they first came from the shell they were green, with tiny black spots on their heads, and had very black eyes. As they grew larger dark gray feathers appeared and their necks became very ‘| long and black, with a white patch under covered that he was building a beautiful nest, comfortably lined with soft feather s. Oh, how important and happy he was! ‘When we next visited the place we were much surprised to find that Mike had laid five wonderful eggs, though they were not the *‘golden eggs.” Every day for fivelong weeks the goose sat on these eggs without any sign of their hatching. At last mamma felt sorry for Mike and thought she would surprise the patient bird. So one morning while Mike was eating breakfast, she slipped the five bad eggs out of the nest and put five pretty little baby ducks in their place. But mother was very badly fooled when she thought Mike couldn’t tell .the differ- ence between a young duck and a gosling, for from the moment the goose returned to its nest the air was filled with scolding, and each duck was lifted by the neck and thrown out on the ground. Mamma quietly picked them up and took them back to their own mother, while Mike slowly stratted off to the fields in a way which expressed great indignation. A long time has passed and Mike has never succeed ed in hatching any goslings, but we all love the bird very much and it isa great pet with every one about the place. Now, my friends, do you think geese are really so silly as they are generally sup- posed to be. HENRY SAGEBRUSH. ny lhlflm' \ R b v!Nlmu.) i Ii gl - w1 tempt him to depart from the straight | path of honesty. The morning of the decision came and the boys were all assembled in the big hall. As soon as the prayers were ended, | Mr. Dean stood up and looked about him. He hesitated for a moment and then said, very slowly and aistinctly: “Without question, the best of all the poems that have been handed in is signed by ‘Pinta Max.’” Ned's heart leaped, for that signature was his, and he knew that hehad won—by fraud! But no, he would not take the prize; he would stand up and confess what he had done, here and now, before them all Before he could move or speak, however, Mr. Dean went slowly on. “But I do not award the prize to ‘Pinta Max’ for a reason that is known only to { him and to myself.” There was an audible movement of sur- prise among the boys and Ned bowed his guilty face, sure that his burning cheeks would betray him. | Mr. Dean went on without a pause. The fictitious name of the prize-winner was announced, the poem was read and the unknown writer—who proved to be Jack Dale—was requested to come upon the piatform and receive the prize, Ned never knew how he lived through the rest of that awful morning. He | suffered borribly, and the moment recess came he broke away from his compan- | ions and sought out Mr. Dean. Mr. Dean listened in silence to his con- fession of how periectly miserable he had | been ever since the stolen verses had left | his hands, and how he would have done anytbing in his power to recall such a cowardly, dishonest act, even though he had not for 2 moment dreamed of its dis- covery. Then Mr. Dean smiled gravely. “My boy,” he said, “‘in that old yellow book you chanced upon one of the classics "of ourlanguage, and the verses that you 80 thoughtlessly stole and tried to im- prove upon were written by no less a poet than Alexander Pope. But your sin against your own honesty has brought with it a lesson and its own sufficient puxishment, and I think 1 know you well ecough to be sure that nothing could tempt you to try any such deceit again.” ‘When Ned and Mr. Dean- came ont of the study together they met Jack Dale, glad and triumphant, and a troup of his admiring friends—all mystified and still wondering who *“Pinta Max” could be and why the best poem had failed to win the prize. “Hello, Ned, I never was so surprised!” cried Jack. “I thought youwd get it, sure.” “I—I—" Ned stammered, flushing pain- fully. But Mr. Dean laid a reassuring hand upon Ned’s shoulder. *Ned may win some other time,” he said, kindly, *‘but for this competition ke failed to compose a poem.”—Philadelphia Times. A LOST COAT A story for Tiny Folks. Written by a Little Giri. “Mamma, mamma, Oh, mamma, dia you see my coat?”’ These were the words I heard a little boy cry out to his mother one pleasant morning not long ago. All the children were going to a picnic. Little Georgie had been invited, too, and was all ready but his coat, and it, alas, was missing, “Now, mamma, they will all be gone and I shall have to stay at home !”” **Who wore your coat yesterday? DidI, Georgie?” quietly asked his mother. “I did, myself,”” answered the child. “Well, my dear little boy, you should be more careful. Now, go and look for it.” *Oh, mamma, you know I left it right on that chair and somebody has taken it!” “That dreadful somebody!” exclaimed Mrs. Curtis. This was not the first time that Georgie had had to look for his things, so now his mother wished to teach him a lesson, “Well, dear, mother’s very sorry, but if you cannot find your coat you cannot go to the picnic, because I do not wish you to come home sick.” So upstairs and downstairs, in closets and trunks, behind doors and under beds, Georgie hunted and searched, but no coat could he find. Then he gave up all hope of being in time to start with the others for the picnic grounds, and instead of sulking and cry- ing he thought he’d go and have a good play with his pet dog, Fido, in the garden, but strange to relate Fido could not be found either. “Fido! Fido! Fido!” called Georgie at the top of his voice as he ran here and there through the yard. He was just about to think his dog was really lost, like his coat, when he saw him over in one corner stretching his legs and W 717 TR Y, / [l ,/’/ W ! Look AT THIs PICTURE CAREFULLY, CHILDREN, THEN SEE IF YOoU Cax WRITE A STORY ABour IT. I WoNDER WHO WILL SEND ME THE BEST STORY ABouT THIS PICTURE. M. W.R. STORY OF A STORK. How It Carried a Letter to Africa and Brought One Back. A story that comes from Germany is as quaint as it is true. Some children living in ona of the northern provinces dis- covered that a stork had made its nest upon their roof. Being orthodox little Teutons they hailed the newcomer with favor, as storks are supposed to bring luck to a house. All the summer they shared tidbits with their long-legged friend, which became very tame and companion- able. At the first signs of approaching cold weather the stork prepared to flit to warmer climes. The children were sad at the thought of losing their pet, but their parents consoled them with the assurance that the bird would surely return the next spring. The children, still uneasy at the idea of the stork’s not being cared for through the long winter, consulted to- gether and evolved a brilliant idea, which they immediately proceeded to putinto execution. They wrote a little note in their best German script, stating that the stork was very dear to them and begging the good people in whose country it might spend the winter to be kind to their pet and send it back to them in the spring, They sealed the note, fastened it to a ribbon, tied it round the bird’s neck and tucked it under its wing. The next day they sadly watched the stork wing 1ts way towards milder skies. The snow and ice came; Christmas time brought the chil- dren gifts and fresh amusements, but their summer pet was not forgotten. When the spring came round again their little feet used to climb to the roof day by day, look- ing and longing for the stork’s return; and behold ! one fine morning there it was, tame and gentle as ever. Great was the children’s delight; but what was their surprise to discover reund its neck and under its wing another bright band with a note attached, addressed to “the children who wrote the letter the stork brought.” The ribbon was quickly untied and the missive opened. It wasfrom a missionary in Africa, stating that he had read the children’s note and had cared for the stork, and thought that children whose good hearts had prompted them to pro- vide for the comfort of a bird through the winter would be willing to help clothe and feed the little destitute children of his mission. A full name and address fol- lowed. their jaws which |and had to bave a handkerchief tied i around my face. 1 stayed on the farm with Washoe Lake so vear by. Well, to tell you the truth, my mother cut their wings at the first joint, and although it must have hurt a great deal the dear little things never even winked. By this time they looked so much alike that mother declared they must be twin brothers and called them *‘Bob and Mike.” They were always togetner until one sad day, when they were out in the tield. It was very stormy. A hunter came along and thinking they were wild geese seeking shelter from the rain fired and shot Bob. A few of his feathers is all we have left of our strange pet. Poor Mike was so scared that he hid under & sagebrush for two days and nights. We had given up all hope of his coming out when, to our great joy, he ap- peared in the yard. ‘We all felt very sorry over the loss of Bob, but our grief was nothing compared to poor “Mike’s,” All day long the lonely bird wandered around the poultry-yard with no compan- ion, and, seemingly, with ne object in life. One bright morning we noticed that Mike was busy; a change seemed to have come over him. > l ‘We watched him very closely, and dis- reminaea me very! strongly of the time I had the toothache | You may wonder how it was that they | THE WELAKA RIVER. | History of One of the Most Inter- esting of American Streams. The historic Welaka river, the modern St. Johns, is to the:stranger one of the most interesting rivers on the American continent. It is unique in many particu- lars which go to make up a river. Find- ing its source in the far south, it flows northward for nearly all its length, until, reaching the metropolis of Florida, it turns eastward and pours its great volume of waters into the ocean. This fact seems the most strange since the universal opin- ion prevails that the extreme South is low and flat, and would leave the impression that the river ran up hill as it cuts its way through the much higher land of our northern boundary. | This, however, is a minor point of inter- est compared with the wild appearance it presents to the eye of the stranger as first he beholds it with its somber cypress al- most awaking superstition, and the swamp hickory with its peculiar foliage and small but rich sweet nut, upon which the far- famed razor-back hog, alike with the beautiful gray squirrel, feasts in profound silence, but doubtless with voracious ap- petite. A large part of the shore on each hand conveys an idea of vastness of ex- panse, because impenetrable to the eyve. This somber scene is relieved by the| stately palmetto, on which are often fes- tooned from tree to tree the wild con- volvali. When seen 1n the early morn, as the palatial steamers, seagoing and river, swiftly make their way up and down the majestic stream, these turn their beautiful cup-shaped flowers white as snow toward the coming king of day sparkling with dewdrops. The broad savannas occasionally lie al- most, apparently, on the level of the river itself. On these queer formations abound wild flowers of every hue, shape and bo- tanical' order, making one vast picture, framed in the surrounding forests, en- livened all over with birds of every hue and sweet song, while the strong, green growths present a tropical vigor of life which is really an inspiration to health and strength.—Jacksonville Times-Union. Age Should Be Tranquil. One's age should be tranquil, says Dr. Arnold, as one’s childhood should be play- ful; hard luck at either extremity of human existence seems to me out of place; the morning and evening should be alike cool and peaceful; at midday the sun may burn, and men may labor under it. | Dedicated to a wee girlie with a doll’s-house. Dear Pitti Sing: As I bave time I send a letter, writ in rhyme, To say that Dinah ’s very blue, Because she stays so long from you. T've set her in the corner back— She gives me looks so very black. (She needn't feel so very mad, But thankful be that she is clad). Does Mr. Gray still lose his hat? And is the baby growing fat? Does Wy Chin sweep the kitchen clean? If not, she thinks he’s very mean; And, ’m afraia, when she gets back From that same broom he’ll feel a whaek! She hasa pair of new kid shoes; They hurt her feet—she would get twos. Her dress is blue. She wears no shirt, But has the new divided skirt. Her collarette is small and bright; Her turban is a gorgeous sight! The dressmaker that you engaged For Louisette is in a rage, Because the pattern that your ma. Thought fine looks too wide by far. ‘The pinking-iron cannot be found, Nor silk enough to go around. The wardrobe now is all in bits— Impossible to make parts fit— But when they meet the “Automat They’ll rush together quite ecstatic. Next Saturday you must come down To spend the day with me in town. Then I'll return with you, to stay A week at lovely Fontenay. We'll chat a little, sew and sing— Try every sort of pleasant thing— A walk to school, a party gay, A reading-lesson every day. The week will much too short be found ; But Christmas day will soon come round, And my surprise Will make you open wide your eyes. Between these lines, love and a kiss To share with that dear little miss Who teases me and plays with you. Now love to all, and so adieu. I'l1 send this off without delay. From your godmother, MARIAN A, BLOOMFIELD, Cal., June 16, 1896. Dear Editor : As I did not see any letters from here I thought I would write. I have a pet cat, I call her Tabbie, and a pet dog called Nig. The blackberries are near ripe and so are the hazelnuts. Our school will be out this week and we will have a short vacation. Hop- ing this letter will escape the wastebasket, I am your new friend, NoNA HERBERT. 8AN FrANCISco, June 16, 1896. Dear Editor : This is my second letter to THE CALL. Our school closes on the 19th of June. Iam going to spend my vacation on my uncle’s ranch. Iliked the stories, “Rita’s Rogue,” “What Flora Saw Wheu She Went in Search of the Fairies” and *“Seven Pumpkin Pies.” I hope more such stories will be published soon. This is all I will write. Hoping this will be published, I remain, your friend. LILLIE MASKOW. EAN FRANCISCO, June 16, 1896. Dear Editor: I am 10 years old. I go to the Cooper Primary School. I am in the fourth grade. My mother takes THE CALL every morning. This is my first letter and I hope it will be in the paper. Now I will close my letter, bidding you good- bye. Your friend, L. QUEIROLO. LINCOLN, Cal., June 16, 1896. Dear Editor: This is my first letter to THE CALL. My father takes THE CALL and likes it very much. I like to read the stories on the boys’ and girls’ page, especially the letters. And besides there are so many funny stories. 1 will close. Your friend, LULu A. WOLFENBARGAR, aged 10. Box 203, GRAss VALLEY, Cal, June 15. Dear Editor: I have solved two of the puzzles in THE CALL of June 14, so I thought I would send them to see if I have them right. If I have I will try to solve more uext time. Your friend, MAEBEL 8. IVEY. SANTA CLARA, Cal, June 14, 1896. Dear Editor: 1t has been some time since I have written to THE CALL. I think the stories and letters are very nice. This week I have got the answers to all the puzzles. Hoping they are right and my letter will be printed in next Sunday’s CALL. Your little reader, GLADYS BROCK (9 years old). SAN FRANCISCO, June 22, 1896, Dear Editor: My papa has been taking Tie CALL for twenty-five years. I enjoy readiug the Children’s Realm very much. I have eight pups, pugs, and they are all for sale. I hope my letter will escape the waste-basket, so I close. FRANK STONE, age 9 years, 625 Third street. BAN FRANCISCO, June 22, 1896. Dear Editor: 1have been reading the letters in the Sunday CALL from children and thought I would like to see a letter of mine printed. 1 am 9 years of age and go to the Madison Pri- mary School. Iam in the fourth grade and my teacher’s name is Miss Otto. I also send 196 words taken from the word Gladstone. It will make me so happy to see this letter printed, so please do so. Iremain your little reader, FLORENCE AGNES BENNETT. LINCOLN, Cal., June 16, 1896. Dear Editor: This is my second letter to THE CaLL. I like to read the storieson the chil- dren’s page every Sunday., I have lots of fun with my little playmates. I have been down to see my aunt in Oak Park, and I had a nice time. I shall close, hoping to see my letter printed on the children’s page. Good-by. Your friend, MINNIE V. WYATT. ANTIOCH, Cal.,, June 20. Dear Editor: I am to-day 12 years old. I have seen so many little letters written in THE SUNDAY CALL on the children’s page, soI take the pleasure of sending a few lines too. My papa has taken THE CALL over fifteen years, and always finds it a nice paper. Since it changed hands to Mr. Shortridge there are so many more pleasant things for children to read. When I come from Sunday-school I spend the rest of the day reading the “Child- hood’s Reaim.” Isaw last Sunday two letters in THE CALL from my little friends at Tracy. So will you please, if this letter snould reach you in time, publish it in THE SUNDAY CALL. 1 remain your friend, ELSIE VON BARM. INDEPENDENCE, Or., June 16, 1896. To the Editor of the San Francisco Call—DEAR Sik: I am agent for your world-renownea paperin this city of 3000 inhabitants. Iama boy 14 yearsofage. I haveseveralsubsoribers, but intend to get more. My father takes THE CALL, and says there isso much news in it that he does not get time to read it through, Do not put this letter in the waste-paper basket, for I expect to see it published in next Sunday’s CALL. Yours truly, ROY IRVINE, 3 8AN FRANCISCO, June 16, 1896, Dear Editor: My grandma has been taking THE CALL for thirty years, and I enjoy reading the children’s page every Sunday. I hope I will see my piece in next Sunday’s CALL. ANNIE E. GODFREY (aged 8 years). Minna street. Los ANGELES, Cal., June 16, 1896. Dear Editor: Iam a little girl only 11 years old and take great pleasure in making out the puzzles in THE SUNDAY CALL, This is the first time I have sent in the an- swers and hope they are right, and that I shall see my name in next Sunday’s CALL. ToNE SyITH. BERKELEY, June 14, 1896. Dear Editor: My papa takes THE CALL and I like to read the children’s page. I like the story of the owls. On one of the pages it told 27 and other things very nicely. I was interested in him because I like to draw trains, too. Iam nine years old. Your friend, ORVILLE ADAMS. BERKELEY, Cal., June 15, 1896. Dear Editor: 1am writing to you because 1 can answer the puzzles. My father has taken THE CALL for eleven years and he likes it very much. I enjoy the children’s column. Iam in the sixth grade, was promoted, and am 12 years old. I like Berkeley. It is a very healthy place. Imustclose. Your iriend, PINKIE FORGIE. June 16. Dear Editor of The Call: I thought I would solve the puzzles, and did most of them. I could not succeed with the others. I was so pleased when Isaw my story, “The Little Gos- sips,” published in Childhood’s Realm a few weeks ago. We take THE CALL and all enjoy it very much. ISABELLA GRASS. GOLDEN GATE, June 17, 1896. Dear Editor: 1 have been reading the Chil- dren’s Page every Sunday. Ishould like to write to you too. 1am. just7 years old. 1live in Golden Gate, Alameda County, Cal. It is vacation now and we are having & good time. Iam in the third grade. My teacher’s name is Miss Grindley. The principal's name is Miss Stokes. I like them both very much. I was honorably promoted this term. 1t Is very warm over here now. We are going to & pienic to-morrow. Well, now, dear editor, I shall close my let- ter, hoping to see it in next Sunday’s CALL. Your friend, IpA HOLLES. 84N FraNcisco, June 17,1896, My Dear Editor: We take THE CALL, and every Sunday I look first of all for the “Childhood’s Realm,” and read it all. Ienjoy the puzzles, and send the answers to as many as I could solve. I am 12 yearsold, and am in the sixth grade, As my letter is getting pretty long, I shall close. Respectfully yours, ZorAH TUREH. PANOCHE, June 18, 1896. Dear Editor; '1am a little girl, 12 years old. My mamma takes THE CALL, and I enjoy reading the “Childhood’s Realm.” 1 go to the Panoche School, and my teacher’s name is Mr. Johnston. Our school closed on 1ast Friday,and I am having & good time dur- ing vacation. I have a little pet lamb, named Daisy, which I raised. Ilike THE CALL better than any other paper, because it is for ladies’ rights. Thisis my first letter. Please printit. I remain your friend, MINNIE VELLADAO. SAN FraNcisco, June 14, 1896. Dear Editor: We have taken THE CALL for seventeen years, but this is the first letter I have written to you. I am 12 years old, and have six brothers and eight sisters. Your constant reader, SOLOMON RHOTTENBOUM. Dear Editor ; 11 I were a pansy, 1 know what I would do, T'd fill the flowers with gladness, Fill them through and through. Sometimes 1'd wish for sunshine, Sometimes I'd wish for rain, And pray to God to hear me Again and again. Now, what flower would not be happy To have me for a mate? VERA CHISHOLM. NaPa, Dear Editor: 1 am visiting my aunt in El Nido, near Napa. Ilive in Oakland. My sunt takes THE CALL and she is collect- ing all tae nice stories and pictures to put in a book for my birthday in August, when I will be nine years old. and all the stories for tiny folks she is collecting for my little cousin Douglas. I have just read the rhyme about the owls and I think it exceedingly funny. 3 1 shall enjoy reading all the stories when auntie has them arranged, for those I have read are very interesting. Now I shall say good-by. Yours truly, DoNNA OTEY. SAN FRANCISCO, June 7, 1896, Dear Editor: In my last letter I forgot to tell you where Ilived. Well, Ilive in the Mission district of San Francisco. I would not live in town for anything. Many of the girls and Dboys who read my letter (if it’s published) will wonder why. It is because you can’t get any nice wild flowers in town. You were very kind to publish my letter, and also to make some corrections. I could hardly wait till Sunday came to see if you had published it Iam very glad vacation is so near. _ have a brother and a sister. Their names are Georgie and Ella. Last Sunday and also this, besides reading “In Childhood’s Realm,” I read about the tlesnakes. ‘It is very interesting. But I m: close now, as I am afraid my letter is too lonr ‘If. you publish it you will please your little riend, ANTOINETTE CRAWFORD. MADERA, Cal., June 16, 1896. Dear Editor: As1 enjoy reading the letters that are published in THE CALL every Sunday evening I will endeavor to write you a& few lines. I go to the Christian Sunday-school and church every meeting that they have, There is & minister here now holding meet~ ings. As my letter is growing longer I will close hoping to see this published in next SUNDAY'S CALL. Iam your litile reader, Rose WELL& WHITE BEAR, Minn., June 7, 1896. Dear Editor: My father subscribed for THE CALL three months ago, and, as I thought you would like to hear from & Minnesota boy, so I have written you a letter. White Bear Lake is twelve miles from St. Paul. In winter we have fine times skating and ice-boating. I made myself & nice boat and had fine times with it. I sailea all over the lake. The ice-boat is shaped like a triangle; the large ones go over amile a minute. 1t has three runners, one at each corner; the back runner is used as & rud- der. Ihave for pets a bird and a cat. The cat’s name is Tommy. When I come home from school he comes to meet me and mews as if it was talking. This is all I can think of, will close, hoping to see this in THE CALL. Yours traly, RoY TUTTLE. PVZZLES. 1. Where may happiness be found? II. What is the difference between a cat and & comma? H. BORCHERS. IIL Out of the following words create the name of a month in summer, its flower and birthday stone: b AS TO GUN WE JAIL REED IV. Take a word of eight lettars meaning cautious, trenspose the letters and have “mer- ited”; again transpose and have ‘‘turned backward.” V. In the following sentences find hidden names of trees: (a) Lucy, press your dress. (b) Ahem! Lock the door, John. (c) Come, peep. Inever felt so curious be ore. (d) Once, darling, T n:ought you loved me. Clap! Please clap louder. ?) Hepwuked with firmness. g) Anna should go. ) (c) Name of a State. Well, if I go, you must stay, a) Name of & State. ame of a State. (d) Name of a fruit. (¢) Name of a State. f) Name of a State, (_Z) Name of a fruit. S!') Name of a State. 'he first letters of the answers arranged in the order above will spell the nameofa t nderlnl river of the Southwest, noted for its wo: scenery. Correct answers to puzzles of June 21: 1. Sight of land. 2. (a) Fine feathers make fine birds. (b) All work and no play makes Jack a aull boy. 3. (fl Better late than never. (b)) Enough is Is foo as a feast, . A burnt child dreads the fire. 5. Car-o-line. Caroline. 6. (a) MeKinley., (b) Kine, milk, mice, lice, mink, Mike, line, lime, mien, lie, mile, mine, key, lien, ice, mince, kiln and'ink. Names of those who have sent in answers to all or a majority of puzzles for Junel4: Maud Mallory, Julia Brieger, Bolton Hamble, Zorah ‘Turey, Walter Duane, Frank Brown, Terbert Brown, Oscar Angilley, Kate Morris, Ione Smith, Monica Gianella, Isabeila Grass, Pinkie Forgie, H. Borchers. One unsigned list from Arroyo Grande; slso one unsigned from San Francisco. For June 21—M. J. Selig, Alice Bell, Rose Tumelty, Zoe Hall, Eva Navone, Jennie Mor- gan, Annie H. Goward, na Lagomarsino, Quite Possible. “Lovely eirl,” he said after the introdue- tion. “Ishould like to see more of her.” “There's no difficulty about that,” re- turned the mutual friend. “Really ?"’ “None at all. If you will go to Narra- sett Pier this summer zon will sge a lot more of her, if she wears the same bathing sbout a boy 4 years old who could draw trains | suit she did iast summer.”—Chicago Post,