The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, July 5, 1896, Page 27

. THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDA‘Y, JULY 5, 1896. Nu)ghty Befin NORA HERBERT. L \ naughty little girl was Bess, As naughty as could be, She didn’t care to y with dolls, Or have a dollies’ tea. 1L She’d “wover pay wif buvver Jack” Than all the little girls, She didn’t care “bout dressing up,” And oh! she hated curls! ill. One day this naughty little girl Went off to play at ball, She didn’t care how fast she ran, And so she got a fall. v. And oh! how she did hurt her hand, But Jack said ““boys don’t cry,” And that * girls were babies, 'Cause they liked to bawl and sigh.” V. That night when Bessie said her prayers (The naughty little elf), She said— I wisht Dod made me a boy, I wisht I wasn’t jus myself.” 2R Gy Hurrah for July andits glorious Fourth! Our Nation’s birtuday. Hurrah! We live in a free couniry! Hurrah, for the chance to show our feelings in lots of racket and noise. Enap, snap, bim, boom, bang! from early morning till late at night—yes, and & whole week beforehand besides. What does Young America care for burnt fingers or singed hair? caught sight of “Miss Pinkerton’s boy,” prowling through the underbrush, a short distance away. “}i, Tobe!” called the boy. rabbit down here in the brush pile. on, quick, an’ let’s run it out?” And, for the time being, Tobe forgot all about his disappointment, in the excite- ment of the chase. Mammy, in the meanwhile, had ground some of the freshly parched coffee, and, after refreshing herself with a cup of the cheering beverage, her heart relented and she reproached herself for not acceding to her son’s request. “Spec’ I had oughter gib dat chile some pocket change foh de Fou'th ob July, whut our ancisters done fit foh,”” she re- flected. “I hate dem snappin’ pistils an fi'-crackers wussen pizon, but hit ain't nuttin’ mo’n right foh young folks to hab dere fun. Reckon I'll hunt out er nickel foh Tobe, an’ s’prise him when he comes in.”” And, with a benevolent smile on her sable face, she reached for her pocket. book, which she kept in a cigar-box on the wooden mantel, beside the eight-day clock. But the smile quickly faded from her countenance and gave place to a look of consternation. “Lan’ sakes!” she exclaimed. “Whar dat money-pu’s’ at? Somebuddy donestole hit, sho’s yo' bo'n. Now, whut I gwine ter do foh flou’ an’ coffee, I'd like ter know?"” In the desperate hope that she might have overlooked it, mammy took the box on her lap and was fumbling among its contents, when the door opened softly and Tobe peered cautiously within. Rolling his eyes in eager scrutiny for a moment, and seeming to be well satisfied with the result of his observation, he crept as silently as a shadow into the room, and tiptoed across to his mother, who sat with her back toward him. “Hit suttinly is gone,” muttered mammy, in a tone of despair, when “Snap! bang!” sounded suddenly in her ear, and with a wild shriek of terror she sprang from her chair, while the cigar-box dropped unheeded to the floor. Looking about to discover the cause of her fright, she at last espied Tobe, con- vulsed with laughter, in the very act of ‘putting a ires’\ cap on the toy pistol which gleamed in his hand. His laughter was not of long duration, however, for with a yell which would have done credit to a Kickapoo Indian, mammy swooped down on her offspring, *‘There’s a Come It's all over once more; we have had a i seized him by the neckband of his cotton fine time and now we’ve got to go to work i and save up our nickels for something else. There is another country which cele- brates an independence day during this month. Tell me in your letters what country it is and the date of the day and | just what event occurred 107 years ago in that country. As thisis the first Sunday in July, of course we have a new birthday blossom and also a new fiower of the mineral world to consider. Isn’t that a beautiful combination! White llies, the expression of purity and modesty; rich red rubies, emblem of the warmth and light of this month, freeing those whom you adorn, if they in July are born, from all love's doubts and anxieties. Now just one moment devoted to the name July. Of course you have all heard of Julius Czsar. Well, he was born in this month, which was called something else then, put after his death the calendar was changed, and then this month was named July in honor of him. TOBE'S FOBRM OF JOLY. BY HELEN WHITSEY CLABK IN GOLDEN DAYS. “Mammy,” said little Tobias, ‘‘gimme er dime ter buy a bean-shooter? Miss Pink- erton’s boy, he done "lowed he’s er gwine ter sell his'n, an’a bunch ob paper eaps foh a dime. Say, mammy, will yer?” “Go ’way, chile; I ain’ got no dime,” replied mammy, who was busy hanging out her week's washing on a grapevine, whicn was stretched across the yard in lien of a clothesline. “But hit's de Fou’th ob Ju!y, termorrer, an’ I ain’ got nuffin’ to shoot wid,” per- gisted Tobias. “You might des gimme er dime, mammy.”" Mammy shook her turbaned head. “Shain’t,” she uttered with discourag- ing tacifurnity. The lily and the ruby. | shirt and gave him a woful shaking. | “You young riporate,” she cried, wrath- fully, “if I don’ lick you good hit's &aze T done forgot how!*’ “Ouch!” howled the cuiprit, “lemme go!” But mammy only shook the harder. “You owdacious young wiper!”’ she shrieked, giving him a cuff which elicited a whole gamut of howls, “whar’s dat money-pu’s’ at, whut you done stoled from yo’ po’ ole mammy ?’’ “Boo-hoo, I neber stoled no money- pu's'!” wailed Tobias, dodging an im- aginary blow which he fancied was at him. *‘ neber teched yo’ money-pu’s’ But mammy was still skeptical. ““Whar yon git dat pistil at, ef yo’ neber tuck dat pu’s’?”’ she demanded,accusingiy. «Hit ain’ my pistil,”’ protested the vie- tim, ruefully. *‘Miss Pinkerton’s boy he done loanea hit ter me, ter show you, so you'd gimme dat 'ar dime, an’—dere’s yo’ money-pu’s now, mammy, ober yander on de winder-silll” “What dat you.say?” gasped mammy. “On de winder-sill? So hit is, chile—so hit is! I ’member, now, I done laid hit | down when dat ’ar chicken-hawk got atter de white pullet. Mammy’s pow’iul sorry she done shuck you, honey, an’ heah a nickel foh dat, an’ anudder foh yo’ hon- esty.”’ “Hooray!” shouted Tobias, his injuries forgotten. “Two nickels! Is you done gib ’em bofe ter me, mammy, sho’ an’ suttin?”’ “Sho’ an’ suttin,” repeated mammy, emphatically. | And, with a beaming countenance, Tobias rnshed off to confide his unex- pected good fortune to his friend and crony, ‘‘Miss Pinkerton’s boy.” Mammy watched him with a smile, though she felt a twinge of compunction as she thought of the “shucking’ so re- cently aaministered. She soothed her conscience, bowever, by telling herself it had not been altogether undeserved. “Ef he didn’t stole de money, he skeered me half out'n my wits, a-poppin’ dat pistil in de back ob my haid, de young scaper- “Gimme er nickel, den,” urged Tobias, coaxingly. “You got er nickel, mammy, caze I done seed one in yo’ money-pu’s’.” “You neber min’ whut I got in my money, pu’s’,’’ retorted mammy, with a couple of clothespins in her mouth. “I sin’t got no nickel ter spar’, Fou'th or no Fou’th.” “But I want some fi’-crackers, ef I cain’ hab er bean-shooter,”” whined Tobias. “Say, mammy, why couldn’ you gimme er nickel ?”” “You Tobe Johnsing, ef you don’ quit a-pesterin’ de life outer me I'se gwine gib you de bes’ tronncin’ you eber had in all y0' bo’n days!” threatened mammy, with rising wrath., *“Ain’t I done tole you I didn’ hab no mnickel ter spar'? You think I'se made out of nickels? . Go ’long inter de house, now, an’ stir dat coffee whut's a-parchin’ in de stove oven.” And Tobias sulkily obeyed. When his mother entered the kitchen a ehort time afterward he picked up his bat- tered hat and slipped stealthily away. “I'll hab dat bean-shooter an’dem fi’- crackers yit, see if I don’t,” he muttered, determinedly, as he crept nimbly between two rails of the worm fence which inclosed Mammy Johnsing’s little “truck patch’” and trudged sturdily down the road, as if be had a definite purpose in view. He stopped suddenly, however, as he grace!” she reflected. *‘’Sides which, many’s de time he ’zarved a lickin’ an’ neber got hit, so dis 'un won’ no mo’n even up.” And with this cheerful view of the mat- ter, mammy dismissed it from her mind at once and forever. The IS _ye}o\ éol\j\ovffv. Bunflower oil made from the seeds is in great demand in this country. In Russia miilions of pounds of the seeds are raised annually for the oil, and large quantities of this oil are exported from that coun- try. In the crude state it is used by painters for inside work, but it does not quite equal linseed oil for varnish purposes. It is mixed with most of our cheap paints, and also with many prepared stains. Of late years efforts have been made to refine the oil so as to sell in competition with olive oil. In fact, purified sunflower oil is used quite extensively to adulterate salad oils. Many consider 1t equal to the ordinary grade of olive and almond oil for table uses. It is of a pale-yellow color, flavorless and palatable. In Maryland a good deal of thisoil is made to supply the Baltimore trade, Aftar the oil is extracted from the seeds the resi- due is made into cakesfor cattle food, and, while not so nutritious as the food made from the fresh seeds, it is of consid- erable value. The factories that express the oil sell the seed cakes at a merely nominal sum. In the poorer districts of India and Eu- Tope a fair xind of bread is made from sunflower seeds, and the natives depend upon it for a steady article of diet. Their cattle are fed with the.same diet, only the seeds and heads are chopped up together, and even the leaves are fed to the animals. The stalks, when stripped of their leaves and heads, are dried and used for The Seven Brothers—“Say, don’t tell | HOW BIG | JACK SAVED . THE IDNG. A Story for Children. “Look at the donkey with his tail on fire!”” cried Willy, running pell-mell into the house, in a high state of excitement. “What’s the matter with Willy, mamma?” asked Elsie. ‘“He’s crazy.” “You just go there,” said Willy, point- ing to the window. The whole family ran to the window and looked across the bare, brown old hills, covered with sagebrush. There, sure enough, just disappearing over the top of the ridge, was a donkey with his tail on fire. At thesame time they glanced across S /' N Pussy’s TOILETTE. fuel. One acre of sunflowers will yield a great many cords of good wood. The stalks are large, tough, brittle and good burners. A few acres of such fuel will last one all winter. There are many other uses for sunflow- ers that the ingenuity of man has devised, but the instances cited are sufficient to Re j'('na’ £ K('tt(’ BY B CAVAZZA. Rosina’s kitten was so good She made for it a crimson cloak And called it her Red Riding-Hood; And to the kitten thus she spoke: ““ You darling little sweet, you! No wolf shall ever eat you— And neither would I ever dream, For all you are so good, Of trusting you to carry cream, My own Red Riding-Hood 1" —Wide Awake. to a high hill where the miners hoisted the gold ore out of the ground, and saw volumes of white smoke curling up into the sky. “1t's a volcano,” snouted Elsie clapping her hands. “I know, ’cause I saw one in my geography.” But Mr. and Mrs. Ellis looked very serious. *‘The mine's afire,” exclaimed Mr. Ellis suddenly. And withoutanother word he snatched up his hat and rushed out of the house. The children looked up at their mother with open mouths. “And the poor donkey,” said Mrs. Eilis, { “must have got caught in the fireand run out through the tunnel.” Two hours later Wiily was on his way to the mouth of the tunnel to see if he couldn’t get a ride into the mine on a mule team. He was walking alongside the great shed where the gold ore is haunled from the tunnel to the stampmill, when a really curious sight met his eyes. He ) saw a donkey with his head poked through the cook.” on us. We're hiding from an opening in the shed wall, where board had been broken out, talking t some one inside. ‘At least that's what he | told his motaer and sister on his return to the house. % | “I don’t believe a donkey can talk,” said | Elsie. “You can’t fool me.” ! “You needn’t believe me if you don’t 1 want to,” said Willy, the color rising to | bis cheeks;#‘but I guess I ought to know. Wasn’t I there? I got in through another opening in the shed and heard the whole thing. The outside donkey was talking to another donkey inside. The inside one was a big fellow and looked terribly sad. He was leaning up against the wall, look- ing awful weak in the knees, and he was crying, too. Yes, sir. Tears were drop- ping from his eyes and little sparks from the end of his tail, where it was burnea.” “‘That was the same donkey we saw on the hill,” interrupted Elsie, her eyesas big as saucers. “I know both of ’em,” continued Willy. “The outside donkey was old McQuaid’s Jenny, and the one inside was big Jack, that's worked in the mine for ten years. And this is what they said. “ “You’re looking pretty rocky this morn- ing,’ said Jenny, poking her head into | the shed, ‘What's the matter?’ “Jack gave a big snorting sigh and shook | his tail sadly. “ ‘Well, I guess you'd feel rocky. I got burned out, that’s what's the matter. My tail caught fire, and I had to run like the deuce to put it ont. Itried water first; I ducked my head in a barrel in the tun- nel.” ** ‘You put your head in to put your tail out. Thav'sfunny—hal bha!’ And Jenny laughed a great coarse mule laugh. “‘Idon’t see anything funny about it,’ said Jack. ‘And, besides, I nearly got killed with gas. But Isaved the mine.’ | “ ‘How was that?’ ‘*‘Well, it was this way. You see, there was no watchman underground, and they left me hooked up to a car way down in the mine. Toward morning I began to smell smoke. Then the air got thicker, and I couldn’t see the light from the lantern hanging around my neck. Finally I beard a crackling noise, and I thought it was about time to get out and give the alarm. I made one big lunge and upset the car, which got unhooked from my harness. Then I ran straight into some burning timbers.” “ ‘Foolish thing to do,’ said Jenny. * ‘Well, I couldn’t see where the smoke was coming from, and Ididn’t know where 1 was going. While I was plunging around in the dark I felt my tail burning, and I knew the only thing todo was to run as fast as I could to keep the fire from spread- ing over the rest of my body. So I started out in the other direction. It was terriole. Icouldn’t see anything. But I just kept shouting, “The mine's afire! the mine's afire!’” and ran as fast as ever I could. ‘* ‘Finally I got through the smoke. I saw a little speck of light in the distance and knew it was the mouth of tha tunnel. But I kept right on running through the town and over the hill, shaking my burn- ing tail and calling out louder and louder, *‘The mine's afire.” Then Ilay down to rest myself. By and by some boys came and patted me and said: “Jack, why don’t you put your tail out?” I told them I was too tired. They said, “Poor Jack!” and stamped a little on my tail and put it out. ‘*‘Then they led me back here and tied meup. Obh, I tell you I'm tired of work- ing in that dark old mine, groping around in the dim light of candles, bumping my head on the roof of tunnels and wearing my ears out, and getting my feet wet | besides. - And nobody pays any attention to me, or gives me any thanks. 1 just get pushed away into odd coruers, and have to wait there patiently till the cars fill up.’ On the Fourth of July long ago, That honored and fortunate day, Our ancestors boldly said *“ No!” To the stranger’s imperious sway. And undaunted by hardship and pain, Those sturdy old heroes declared Independence they all would And bravely for battle prepared. And long shall our chronicles tell On that glorious page of the past, How our fathers fought nobly and well And our fetters were broken at last. So now on the Fourth of July Let children, and elder folk, too, To that old voice of freedom reply With a cheer for the Red, White and Fio” Yoyrns corPAnuN maintain, Blue. —Youth’s Companion. —Golden Days. 1 { “Sh1” said Mrs. Ellis, “let Willy go on.” 4 é‘iC(H,rggg the | long fong day With his crimsop Sash | . jand s fierce mous- W\ tache | ! gnd his hat with | \ \\\ ity featheu;sux. " “ ‘“Your ears always were too long,’ said Jenny, spitefully. “Jack began to cry harder, and wiped the tears away with his ear. “* ‘You must have rather a combustible tail,’ Jennie went on. ‘* ‘I don’t know what you mean by that big word,” sobbed Jack, ‘but I guess if you were in my fix, you wouldn’t feel like hearing such remarks!’ *Just then some miners came along and led Jack away.” “Where did they take him?” asked Elsie, drying her eyes. “I don't know,” said Willy. But 1t was rumored all over town the next day that Big Jack had really saved the. mine. As soon as he had given the alarm the burning timbers were put out and the foreman of the mine decided that Jack should be rewarded. He was led away to a vacant, grassy lot with a barn on it, where he lives to this day, just eating grass and hay and sleep- ing and doing nothing. People come and look at him over the fence, where a big sign is nailed: “This is Big Jack, who gave the alarm of fire and saved the Rosedale mine.” F. L. B. SAN FrANcisco, June 29, 1896, Dear Editor: 1 am nine years old. I go to the Mgdrshall Primary School. I was in the fourth grade, but now am promoted into the fifth. cially the letters. This is my first letter to THE CALL. Hoping to see it published in the next Sunday’s paper, I remain, your little reader, RUBY BANNEROT. SWEETLAND, Cal., June 18, 1896. Dear Editor: I think THE CALL is the best paper because it has a page for the children in it. Ilike to read the stories and letters and try to solve the puzzles, which I have suc- ceeded \in doing this week. Ihavea brown dog whose name is Bismarck. If you throw a stick in the water he will go and getit. Heis a bird dog and can swim fine. Hoping to see my letter in sight next week, I remain yours truly, OSCAR ANGILLEY. SAN FraANcCisco, Cal., June 22, 1896. Dear Editor: This is my first letter to THE CarL. Iam 11 yearsold. Ourschool closed on the 19th of June and I am going to the coun- try after the Fourth of July. I have got the answers of the puzzles. Hoping that my letter will be published in next Sunday’s CALY, I re- main your friend, ELNER RYAN. P. 8.—Papa is & Republican, and I do hope McKinley will be President. 8N FRANCISCO, Cal., June 28, 1896. Dear Editor: 1 am 8 years of age. Iwas visiting my grandmother’s to-day, who has been taking THE CALL for thirty-four years. While I was looking over the paper I found the children’s page and liked the stories and letters, so I thought I would write one too. I have been attending school for two years, and am promoted to the third grade. EUGENE L. HAWLEY. OAKLAND, Cal., June 29, 1896. Dear Editor: This is my first letter to THE CarL. I have been reading the letters in the Sunday CALL and thought Ishould like to see | a letter of mine printed too. i Iam staying with my sister in Oakland, who | takes THE CALL, and thinks it is the best paper. 1 have solved all the puzzles and hope they are correct. I am your new friend, JEANNETTE MCKEEVER, aged 12 years. OAKLAND, Cal. June, 1896. Editor of the San Francisco Cali—DEAR BIR: I am proud of the fact that Iam & natlve son of the Golden West. But my parents came from Chicago. Iam 13 yearsold and glad to have an opportunity to attend the public school. I have parents who have taught me to love the flag that I hove will ever float in the free air of America. We have taken THE Cary for some eleven years, and think it— since its change of editors—the best on the coast. Iam particularly interested in the chil- | dren’s page and hope soon to send some an- swers to the puzzles. ALBERT RALSTON. PACIFIC GROVE, Cal., June 21, 1896. Dear Editor: 1 have mever written to THE CALL before, but I think it is a fine paper. I enjoy the children’s page very much, and on Sunday I am always anxious to see it. Inclosed are four of the pugzles which I think to be right. Ihave a small sister and a brother in school. Ishould bé much pleased if my letter escapes the waste basket,and alsoshould be very much pleased to see my letter in next Sun day's CALL. Yours sincerely, ANNIE H. GOWARD. SAN Fraxcisco, June 24, 1896. Dear Editor: 1 was very sorry that you did not publish my last letter, but then you did not have room for it. Ihave not tried any puz- | 1 like to read the Boys’ and Girls’ Page, espe- zles yet, but I think I shall soon. In our school we donot know whether we are promoted until after vacation. If Iget pro- moted T will be in the flith grade. We have vacation until the 8d of August. Iam looking out for a story and shall send one assoon as I can think of a good one. Ithink I shall write a fairy tale, because I like such stories best. I can think of no more at present. From your iittle friend, ANTOINETTE CRAWFORD. ‘WATSONVILLE, Cal., June 23. Dear Editor : This is my first letter to you. Ilive in Oakland, but am spending my vaca- tion on my uncle’s farm. Iattend the Lincoln School, ana last term was promoted into the A sixth grade. My teacher's neme is Miss Grace Campbell. I have been very much in- terested in the Childhood’s Realm. Imade outtwo of the puzzles in last Sun« day’s CALL, and hope my answers are correct, and next time I'l1 try to answer more. Here is something I wrote about “The Little Buttercup”: When I awake I wake with the sun, When I rest I'm covered with dew, During the long afternoon I shine with a goiden hue. But when the winter days come round, With their rain, and wind, and snow, 1 have to be burled deep in the ground Till the summer comes, you know. I shall close now, hoping to see my letter in next Sunday’s CALL. Affectionately yours, JENNIE C. MORGAN, aged 12 years. CALISTOGA, Cal., June 22, 1896. Dear Editor: 1was pleased to see my letter in THE CALL last Sundey, and also glad to see that my answers to the puzzles were right. I hove the answers to three of the puzzles this time. Two I feel sure are right, bat I can think of so meny answers to the other (and none seem exactly right) that I can’t feel sura about it. Ourschool has been out about foyr weeks, | and begins again in August. I was promoted from the seventh to the eighth grade. Iought to finish this school in two more years, as the ninth grade is the highest we have here. I will be very glad when the time comes to graduate, for although I don’t hate to go tc school as some do, still I want to get through as soon as possible. Your friend, EVA NARONE. SouTH 8AN FRANCISCO, June 22, 1896. Dear Editor: Iam a little girl 6 years old, My papa takes 1HE CALL. Igo to the South San Francisco School. My teacher’s name is Miss Goss, This is my first letter to THE CALL, the paper I like, for it has a children’s page. I have one sister and one brother. I guess T'llclose. Your new friend, AMELTA BOEHRINGER. SAN LEANDRO, June 22. Dear Editor: This is my first letter. I go to school. Iam 8 years old. Next year I shall be in the second grade. My teacher’s name will be Miss O'Donnell. I have three brothers and three sisters. We had a nice old cat, but she got to killing chickens, so some one killed her. We have some kittens, but they are too young to catch the gophers that areso very numerous we do not know what to do. This morning Lon, my brother, caught one and papa killed it. Mamma thinks the State ought to pay a bounty of 5 cents for gophers, then all the boys would be catching them. I like the Children’s Realm very much and wish there were two pages. My papa likes THE CALL better than the Chronicle. If you think this letter is good enough to print I may try to write a story when I get bigger. CARRIE GRACE BRENTON. PUBBLES. Questions and puzzles for July 5: 1. If a man bumped his head against the ceiling, what article of stationery would he et? II. What is the difference between persever- ance and obstinacy? IIL What'is the Qifference between the man. ager of a theater and s sailor? ALICE BELL. 1V. Dropped vowels. A wise saying. B jst bir yr gnrs. V. Lttl strks {1l grt ks. VI My 1is in life, but not in death. My 2 I in Inez, but not in Beth. 37 8 Is o vinoyard, but not in fratt. y 4 isin scream, but not in hoot, My 51 in ear, but not in eve. My 6is in pine, but not in sigh. My 7 s in orauge, but not in peach, My 8 is in ocean, but not in veach. My 9 is in linger. but not in reach. My whole i3 & city for commerce noted. For iron and coal are daily bosted. Maup Marromy. PINKIE FORGIE. Eva ME. PI Something dear to the heart of Young Americans. SRICERCFAKER Correct answers to all or & majority of puz- zles for June 28 have been received from Pinkie Forgie, Eva Frame, Elmer Ryan, Jean- nette McKeever, Jennie Morgan, Isabella Grass, Anna A, Clair, M. Frances Gianella. Also received an interesting article on silver from Ninintat Bruce, and ever so many stories about “the little girl and the ducks.’ Of course we must weit until boysand girls ata distance have time to send in their stories be- fore we select any for publication. AL Correct Answers to Puzzles of June 28. I. In the dictionary. II. The cat has her claws (claus) before her paws (panse), and the comma has its pause be- fore its clause. I1I. June, Wild Rose-Agate. IV. Reserved—deserved, and reserved. Vi éa) Cypress. (b) Hemlock. (c) Pine. (h)vi-‘ { ) Cedar. (¢) Apple. (f) Fir. (g) Ash, V. g(a) California, gLOrogon. () Louisi- ana. (d) Orange. (e) ode Isiand. (f) Als- bama. (g) Dates. (h) Ohio. Name of river—Colorado. Names of those who sent in correct answers to all or a majority of puzzles for June 28: Lou and May Parsons, Ray Stuart, Madalena Lago- marsino, M.J.Selig, Helen A. Hills, Eva Na- vone. Answers to Correspondents. M. Selig—The list of words has been de- stroyed. Am very sorry. Jennie Hills—Letters for this department should be directed to Mary W. Richards, San Franetsco Cavy, San Francisco,