The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 9, 1896, Page 27

By ans By. | *“ By and By” is a very bad boy, Shun him at once and forever; For they who travel with “By and By” Soon come to the house of “Never.” I can’t” is a mean little coward— A boy that is half of & man Seton him the wee plucky terrier That the worid knows and honors— “I can.” | Pin the above on your wall, boys and girls, and read it every day. e heard the proclamation | Which told of McKinley’s nomination | Our boy, aged 7—no exaggeration— | Exclaimed, without the slightest hesitation, | ‘Don’t you know, after due deliberation, U've arrived at this determination: Cleveland must seek another occupation!” When first was ]Fa('f)'___rwé. Said my blue-eyed cousin John, “ What do fairies live upon?” And he looked in eager wise At me with his bright young eyes. “Every morning-time,” I said, *They bake tiny loaves of bre Cricket-steaks they often eat: And their drink is honey sweet. From the honeysuckle bell, - Or the crimson clover cell; They have berry pie and tart Flavored with a rose’s heart; And a very favorite thing 1s a slice of beetles’ wing.” “Pooh!” cried John, “no wonder that Fairies are Lot big or fat!” CLINTOX SCOLLARD in Wide Awake, AI\ Eaj') éom Sor the Chileren. “What does ‘quartered oak’ mean, | father?” inquired little Dennis McKay,who | had been reading the advertisement of a | arge furniture manufacturing firm. ‘‘An’ here’s the resoolts of iddication!” | ulated Mr, McKay, with an expression ! great contempt on his ruddy face. “‘Here’s me b’y that’s been a-addin’ an‘l 1bthraetin,’ mooltiplyin’ an’ dividin’ for e lasht sivin years, coom nixt Dayecim- and has to ask his poor owld fayther e m'anin’ of a simple little soom like « Why, I don’t know’’— began Dennis, much abashed; but his father gave him a depretatory wave of his right hand. 1 And fwy didn’'t ye know!” he broke | in. “Fwy? Because the cooltivation av | common-sinse is not included in your| cooraycoolum at school, that’s fwy. Stan’ me oop in a row an’ ask me how manny | livin, sivinteen, twenty-wan an’ forrty- | four and it's mesilf that ud have nivver a | wurrd to say. But let me casht me oy inter a windy where there’s chape chairs an’ tables ‘an’ ‘quartered oak,’ an’ the owld-shtory ay the apple cut inter four paces that was larnt me as a b’y cooms roight back to me. “There’s four quarthers to ivery blissed thin’ in this wurrld, Dennis, me son, and whin a table is ‘quarthered oak,’ accoord- in’to the man that sells it, be the same token you may know it's three-quarthers poine, aven if he makes ro mintion ay it.”—Youth’s Companion. A little boy’s elder sister is much inter- ested in photography and gives the family the benefit of many observations about her work. The little boy was taken to the courthouse to see the end of a certain trial. He came home and told his mother about it. “The Judge made a speech to the jury.” he said, “and then sent them off to a dark room to develop.” THE DONALD STORY FOR TIN I haven't told the tiny boys a story all for their “loney selves” for a long, long | store an time, so I am going to tell them one to-da; Y BOYS. Then they played with the little grocery d kept Paddy Murphy, the grocer, | very busy weighing out and wrapping up Not many weeks ago little black-eyed chocoiate and sugar. Georgie and blue-eyed Donald spent & | Poor fellow! it was pretty hard on him. whole day together. ‘ He isn’t very strong, you know; not since They had not seen each other for six | the day his brother dropped him, acci- months, and that’s most as long as siX | dentally, of course, out of the window, vears to tiny boys, isn’tit? Now thisis|and he broke in two. how it came about: One day as Donald’s mamma was walk- ing along Market street, whom should she chance to meet but Georgie’s mamms, and these two arranged for the visit right there. The day was set, and Donald’'s mamma told Georgie’s mamma that sl}e would send some one for Georgie early in the morning, and would see that he got | safely home in the evening. There were two very happy tiny boysin | this big City that night when thesweetnews was whispered into their little pink ears, At last the day came, and Donald’s big brother went for Georgie. little boy impatiently waiting, so they re- turned on the very next car. Donald was standing by the corner, near his home, watching for them, and when they arrived he cried: “‘Hello, Georgie, I am awfully glad to see you! Won’t we have a jolly time!” He found the | “Yes,” said Georgie, slipping his brown hand into Donald’s with a happy little | sigh; “I'm glad as I can be. Bee, I've got lots of buckins on dese clothes.” “Yes; I'see. Let’s goright to mamma first, and then we'll play, Georgie.”” Up the long flight of stairs climbed the four sturdy feet, and then they marched straight to mamma'’s room. “On, what a beautiful boy!” claimed. *Just see his pretty velvet suit and his clean white blouse, all trimmed | with lace! Such a lovely blue necktie, and a sz1lor cap, too! “Yes; my mudder buyed ’em for me | long time ago,”’ lisped the child, so prond and important that he conld hardly speak. . Having admired him to his heart’s con- | tent, and even enough to satisfy sweet, she ex-| leving Donald, she sent the happy pair off | to play. And such a play as they had. First they went to visit all the pets. Doggie “Rags,” friend, and he seemed right away, for he jumped on the little boy and licked his hands and face so hard that Georgie had to hide bebina Donald to get away from him, crying, “*Ob, he kithes | me too wet!” Then Goldie, the canary, was intro- duc and brother's silver and gold fish and the funny little kitten with a coat as black as Georgie’s eyes. Oh, yes; there was the snail, too. But, poor thing, when they opened its box they found it dead. Donald feit so sorry, and I'm afraid he felt guilty, too, because he bad forgotten to give it a fresh leaf the | day before. I bave never fold you how- he got that | Well, I shall some day | pet snail, have I? pretty soon. After the pets had all been seen the boys took th7 coaster and had such a merry time riding down hill so fast that it almost took away their breath. of course, was an old | to know Georgie | | Mamma glued him together again, soyou never could tell the difference, but he acts | quite tired sometimes. | Thus they tried one play after another, other furnitoor marked | | By inviting Mother Goose to be present bright boys and girls may -enjoy: & most delightful evening’s entertainment. The diversion is not at all difficult, and a pair of spectacles, a cap and a powdered wig will make a Mother Goose out of one of the older girls. Provide each one of the company with a lead pencil, a slip of paper headed “‘A Pennny for Your Thoughts,” and bearing numbers from one to twenty. After ex- plaining that the rest of the programme will be carried out by a very dear friend, introduce Mother Goose. “My dear friends,"”’ says Mother Goose, “‘apon receiving the invitation to enter- tain you this afternoon the honor seemed so great I have ventured .to bring with me a few friends who have kindly voiunteered their services. Being rather curious to know whether you will recognize them readily I will request you to write their names on your papers as I introduce them. The first one is a dear boy of whom I am extremely fond.” Then Mother Goose takes from her bas- ket a jack such as children play with, a stalk of any kird and a bean. She places them on the table before her and says: “Here he is. Look sharp now and tell me his name.”” At the end of a few minutes she replaces them in her basket. For No. 2 Mother Goose arranges on the table three cards, on the first of which a | | | HELD BY THE ENEMY. small eye bas been sewed; on the second, two eyes, and on the third, three eyes. “No. 3 is a person of whom I have always been somewhat afraid,” she says, holding up a piece of rope which has been un- wound, dipped in bluing and fastened on a piece of paper.” For No. 4 she produces six battered pennies. On exhibition of a tape measure forty- five inches long a card bearing the word “Ah” and a cinder is No. 5. “Here’s the children’s favorite, No. 6, says Mother Goose, holding up a little red cap. She says No. 7 is anold acquaintance although he looks unfamiliar and then she produces three toy sheep. “This is such a funny fellow, No. 8"— placing an old pair of boots upon the table. Within one of them a kitten may be seen. " “No. 9 is the bravest of the lct,” she says, depositing on the table a jar, the sole of an old shoe and a piece of money. “No. 10 will wait no longer’—holding up a darning-needle. Then Mother Goose places before them a | horse’s bit, a long hair and a mason’s rab, saying: *No. 11 is pretty shrewd. Look sharp.” For No. 12 she lights a candle and places it within a glass chimney. “Unlucky 13”—placing on the table a badly mutilated toy duck. “No. 14 may be quite a stranger, but youwll find he’sa good fellow,” and Mother Goose displays the feet of a goose or other large fowl], and the feet of a tissue-paper owl. | Ared paper rose placed in a saucer of snow is No. 15. | “No. 16 likes the boys,”’ she says, ex- hibiting a box of matches. “'Seventeen is some one who lived happy ever afterward,” and Mother Goose shows acake of yeast,a ribbon bow, some tea | and the picture of a bee. For No. 18 she shows a pretty doll lying | on the table with its eves closed. “No. 19 is a rough old fellow,” produc- ing & jack, a picture of an ant, a bottle bearing & druggist’s label of skull and crossbones. an eye and a card on which */G” has peen printed. “No. 20 wishes you all a merry Christ- mas,” and she shows a branch of a tree and a piece of fur. When the answers are all written on the card Mother Goose collects all the papers and awards to the hbighest and lowest number guessed correctly some little trinket, as a toy rooster for first prize and an owl for a booby prize. 1. Jack and the Bean Stalk. 2. Little One Eye, Two Eyes and Three Eyes. 3. Bluebeard. 4. The Crooked Sixpence. 5, Cinderella. 6. Little Red Riding Hood 7. The Three Bears (ba-a-ers). 8. Puss in Boots. 9. The Tin Soldier. 10. The Darning Needle. IROTHER G66SE GIVES AN ERGERGANDRENT The Rabbit and the Hare. The Wonderfal Lamp. The Ugly Duckling, Great Claus and Little Claus (claws). Rose-Red and S8now-White, 16. The Tinder Box. 17. Beauty and the Beast. 18. The Sleeping Beauty. 19. Jack, the Giant Killer. 20. The Fir Tree.—Chicago Record. 11 12. 13, 14. 15. Sharks furnish quite a number of valua- ble producte. The liver of the shark con- tains an oil of a beautiful color that never becomes turbid and that possesses medi- cinal qualities equal to those of cod-liver oil. The skin, after being dried, takes the polish and hardness of mother-of-pearl. The fins are always highly prized by the Chinese, who pickle them and serve them at dinner as a most delicate dish. The Islend. I hove to see my letter in print next Sunday. Iwill now close. Your friend, MARGUERITE HOWARD. 3 ' 8AN FRaNcIsco, July 28, 1896. Dear Editor: THE LILY AND THE ROSE. A beautiful lily, one eve in June, Dsnced with a rose By the light of the moon. Said the rose to the lily: “It’s time for us to rest, For every little tired bird 1s nestling in its nest.” Before the break of morn The fairies around did stray, And ook the iittle rose To fairyland away. In the morning the rose was gone; The beautiful 1ily sighed She laia her head upon the grass And in her sorrow died. In fairyland the rose was sad. Inquired all around For a beautiful tall fair lily That she never found. “0 you wicked little thing,” She said to a little sprite, “You took me awsy from my comrade That dancea in the beautiful moonlight. Do you think I'm happy, ‘When not a flower I know? 0, take me back to the liiy Or I'll die in want and woe.” She turhed around, in the pretty vase A lily she did see. She said like a voice of a fairy queen, ‘“Are you the lily that dwelt with me?” The lily answered with a sigh, Her words were very slow, “Oh, that lily that you dwelt with Is witnered long ego.” VERA CHISHOLM. Tacoma, Wash., July 19, 1896, Dear Editor: 1am s little girl, 10 years old, and thisis my first letier to THE CALL, and I hope it will be in print in next Sunday’s CALL. 1 have lived in Tacoma ever since I was 17 months old. I think Tacoma is a very pretty city. Ihave onesister and one brother. My sister is 7 years old and my brother is 4 years old. Ithink I will close. From your friend, RHEA CATTO, 935 South E street. SAN FRANcISco, July 21. Dear Editor: I read your stories in the Childhood’s Realm every. Sunday, and I thought I would write a letter, too. I have & baby sister. She gets very interested in your paper. She makes us all laugh the way she reads it. I also have a pet dogand a pet cat. This is my first letter I have written to you, s0 please put it in next Sunday’s paper. Your Europeans, who do not yet appreciate the fins of a shark asa food product, are con- tent to convert them to fish glue, which competes with the sturgeon glue prepared in Russia. As for the flesh of the shark that, despite its oily taste, is eaten in cer- tain countries. It isemployed also along with the bones in the preparation of a fer- tilizer. The Icelanders, who do a large business in sharks’ oil, send out annually | 1, a fleet of 100 vessels for the capture of the great fish.—Chicago Record. | . i A chemist advises that canned frnit be | IIL (a) opened an hour or two before it is used. | plant. (i I becomes richer after the oxygen of the |yl S, air has been restored to it. new friend, KaTIE WEISS, 9 Norfolk street. PYSZZLES. I. Form a well-known proverb out of the following words, using all the letters: nd, hem, so, Ninety equials nine times ten, Take ten away And there’ll remain Ten times ten As sure as day, Behead an instructor and leave a b) Behead a feminine name and leave (¢) Behead a plant and leave a rep- e above three answers have the same first letter. THE LAST OF V,AG,A']'-I-ON; Pirst indoors and then out. Now asking | for bread, butter and sugar, and then for adrink of water. Merry, happy little urchins! Last of ali they played house. Georzie said: “You get me one of your muver’s dresses and I'tl be the mamma.” “All right; and I'il be the papa,” said | Donald, as he put on one of brother’s suits. | Didn’t they look cute, though! I just { wish you could have seen them. Noliy Vimple saw a little too much of them, I think, for they made and unmade her bed so many times, and dressed and undressed Miss Dolly herself so often, that she almost had another spasm! The day came to a_close all too soon, as such days always do. Loving good-bys were said and then the two faithful little friends separated once more, but I hope not for six months, don’t you? M. W.R, Then They Played Mamma and Papa. Nov pery éong. ANN M. LIBBY. Pace, pace, pace; That's the way the ladies ride, Foot hung down the pony’s side, Pace, pace, pace. Pacing gently into town To buy a bonnet and a gown; Pacing up the narrow street, Smiling at the folks they meet; That’s the way the ladies riae Foot hung down the pony’s siae; Pace, pace, pace. Trot, trot, trot; That’s the way the gentlemen ride, - O’er the horse’s back astride, Trot, trot, trot. Riding after fox and hound, Leaping o’er the meadow’s bound; Trotting through the woods 1n spring, Where the little wild birds sing, That's the way the gentlemen ride, O’er the horse’s back astride; Trot, trot, trot. ¥ Rock, rock, Tock; | ‘That's the way the sailors ride, Rock and reel from side to side, i Rock, Tock, rock. | Jack Tar thinks he’s on the seas, | Tossing in & northern breeze; Thinks that he must veer and Jack, When he mounts a horse’s back; Rocking east and rocking west, Jack Tar rides, dressed in his best; Rock, rock, rock. Sleep, sleep, sleep; That's the way boy Ned will ride, Floating on the slumber tide. Steep, sieep, sleep. Out upon the drowsy sea, Where the sweet dream blossoms be, Far away to Sleepy Isles Sails my Ned. “Goodnight,” he smiles Binking down in pillows deep, Little Ned 1s fast asleep, Sleev, sleep, sleep. ~—Housekeeping. C}L‘ WYWLS Wofa. Last Sunday the teacher of the infant class in one of our City churches asked the class this guestion: ‘“What became of Lot’s wife?” Much to her astonishment and the amusement of visitors present, a bright little fellow promptly answered: ‘‘She was turned into a salt pillow.” Sl SRR A A button from your coat is a very simple little thing, and yet something like $3,000,- 000 changes hands in this country every year in the making, buying and selling of buttons. e e pestems nable. sub- stance is light, porous and resists the pressure of the- teeth. Smoke dra lcnm?h the turkey bone is oool\u;: aweel e Hmn’n-nmw. Cal., July 28, 1896, Dear Editor: AsIhave seen no letters from Healdsburg, T thought 1 would write to you. My papa kept THE DATLY CALL three years when we lived in San Francisco. We then moved to the country as papa’s health was baa. He has died since. Mamma buys THE CALL every | Sunday for us children. Iam yery much in- terested in tite ““Childhood’s Realm.” I used to guess the puzzles, but I never had the cour- age to send them to you. Iam twelve years old and went to the Cooper Primary Schnol when I lived in the City. Iwasin Miss Ken- nedy’s fourth grade. Hoping to see my letter published in next Sunday’s CALL, I remain your new friend, EMILIA NARDINT, Mopesro, Cal., July 26, 1896. Dear Editor: Thave never written to THE CALL before. I now attend the Modesto public school here. Iam 10 years of age, and am in the fourth grade, and was promoted to the fifth grade. We take THE DAILY CALL, and like it very much. I have never tried any of the puzzles yet, but I think I shall. Tlike to read the Childhood’s Realm and the letters. I have one brother and two sisters. Hoping to see my letter in print next Sunday I remain, your little reader, NEVA HALL. Drxo¥, Cal., July, 1896. Dear Editor: 1 have two sisters and one brother. My pspa takes THE CALL and I like the children’s page. Helives on a big farm and we are so far from a school that we have 10 have & governess. I have not tried to guess any of the puzzles yet. Iam 9 years old and my birthday is on Christmas day. Hoping this letter wiil escape the wastepaper basket— in your little friend, Sz CORNELIA 8. CURRY. 819 BAkER ST, SAN FRANeIsCO, Cal., July 23,796, Dear Editor: My papa has been taking ThE Cary for the past ten years. I have read the children’s page for the last several Sundays. 1 go to the Fremont School. 1 was honorably promoted from the third grade to the fourth grade, Iam 8 yearsold. Yours truly, ELSTE NORTHRUP., 4 TRACY, Cal., July, 1896, Dear Editor: 1 thank you ever su much-for printing my first letter in THE CALL. ‘We are still haying vacation and are having a fine time. I bave four cousins—Millie, Wil. 1ie, Henry and Eddie. Millie and I have fine times running around in the flelds and taking Eddie foraride. He is only one year old and likes to ride in the cart. The horse that takes us to town is nemed Badger. He is 8 white horse. 1 remain, your little friend. ‘ LOUISE JOST. CALIETO0GA, Cal,, July 14, 1896. Dear Editor: 1.sepd yous story this week, which, as Maud Mallory says, I would like to see it printed, if you think it good enough.” I liked Maud’s story very much, but Idouht that you will think mine half asgood as the one she wrote. Lovingly, EvA NAVONE. W Select of a mon TRACY, Cal., July 21, 1896. Dear Editor: Iwas very much pleased to see my first letter in THE CALL. But you made a mistake in my name. You put Nellie instead of Millie. My cousin and I have lotsof fun. We take a ride to town most every day. Sun- day morning I go to Sunday-school and in the afternoon I read the Childhood’s Realm. I have never tried any of the puzzles yet. I re- main, your friend, MILLIE SCHMIDT. VIIL I b{ brave alo) X. (a) a twig. me and REEDLEY, Cal., July 14, 1896. Dear Editor: 1have written to you once be- fore and also wrote you & story and a puzzle, all of which to my pleased surprise appeared "Twas sweet and 1V. (a) Behead a fish and leave to listen’ (b) Behead a fish and leave part of awagon’ (¢) Behead a fish and leave possessed. °I had a ripe appie to-day, hile uncle and you were away. ‘twas good. I wish you had been here, 0 share with me. dear, ‘This very fine food. - one letter out, of each line. If you select the right ones they will spell the name th. VI. Name the very best ship in the world., VII, Hidden cities. g) P. Hill had'a ple. ang wits on. ow 1n places lowly, I am defended earts and true if I be insulted. Still, ng the busy street I'm trodden on and trampled by throngs of heedless feet. IX. My 1,2, 4,34and5 a seaport. My 9, 8, 6, 7 repose. My whole a toiler in the golden wheat. Extract a word from vapor and leave (®) My whole represents cost. Behead come from the West Indies. Again behead me and I am what boys and girls iove. | A BoY'S JA>VERTORE In Which He Flees From One Danger to Rush Into Another BY CHRISTIANA ROSS FRAME' IN THE PHILADEL- PHIA TIMES. Itisa very wurm afternoon. The sun comes straight down on Aunt Maria’s old-fashioned garden, and the columbines and brides-and-grooms are nodding their heads as if they did not enjoy it; only the scarlet lychnis stands up straight and bold. The heat has caused the petals of the vellow roses to fall and the ground be- neath the bushes jooks as if fairies had been strewing it with gold pieces. Not a leaf rustlesin the great orchard. Animal and bird sounds are hushed, ex- cept for the sharp buzzing of a humming- bird in the vines over the veranda where father, Aunt Maria and [ are sitting. Father is reading, Aunt Maria’s needles | are clicking steadily, and I am bolstered in the hammock with pencil, paper and book for amusement. Father and aunt keep asking if I am tired and warn me not to write too much. It seems strange, my being petted and fussed over, but I like it, and the fortnight I have spentin bed has not been doleful; they have all been so kind to me, especially father, with whom Iam now getting to be really acquainted. Of course, I was to blame, and it was my disobedience that caused all the trouble and anxiety, but Aunt Maria says there were extenuating circumstances (whatever that means) and Uncle John says he guesses I'll *‘keep away from the back pasture in future.” But I had better tell the whole story. Father and I live in New York. Mother died when I was.a very little boy, and father, being busy in his office all day, at night wags too tired to bother with me. So 1 was sent to Mr. Brown’s school at Maple- wood, where I stayed all the time, not going home in holidays as the other pupils did. Fathersentmelots of pocket money, but that didn’t make up for the long, lonely summers, and to add to my unhap- pinesss, I was always getting into trouble with Mr. Brown for bregking bounds, and wandering off to the woods. One day last June, we boys were loiter- ing by the schoolroom door, waiting for prayer bell to ring. All were comparing notes and making plans for the summer holidays,, except me. How lonely and wretched I felt, standing under Mr. Brown’s study window, kicking my toes against the curbing. Presently the window opened and Mr. Brown’s head was thrust out. I expected a reprimand for the irritating noise I had been making, but the head was instantly withdrawn, the window banged and a let- ter came fluttéTing to my feet. It wasad- dressed to me and the postmark was New York, butit was not in father’s writing and I was almost afraid to read it. It was from a New York doctor saying that father had been very ill, but was better, and - when able to travel, would take me with him to spend the summer at his boyhood’s home ia Nova Scotia. All the world seemed changed after reading that letter, and I forgot that I had ever felt lonely or neglected, Father came the day school closed, and after two days’ aelightful travel we arrived at Uncle John’s farm on Cobequid Bay. Uncle John and Aunt Maria’s boys were grown up and away, excepting Mac, who helped uncle manage the farm. Maclet me ride on the great loads of hay, help guide the mowing and raking machines, and sometimes he let me drive the horses. What jolly times I bad! Only two places on the farm were for- bidden ground; one was the beach when the tide was running in, the other the back pasture, where Uncle John kept a Jersey bull which had been showing signs of becoming very vicious. The pasture was more than a mile from the house and was inciosed on three sides by a high pole fence. The boundary on the fourth sidg was the bay. The cliffs, which were from forty to fifty feet in height, dropped perpendicularly to the beach and could be climbed only in places where a little brook had gullied, or trees falling over had carried earth with them. Day after day I watched the tide roar- ing and surging 1n and saw it go rolling out as rapidly, and day after day I tnought of the shallow pools out on the flats, with the imprisoned shad swimming round waiting to be caught. One sultry afternoon I had gone to the marsh with the baymakers. It was low water, and a heavy cloud hung over the bay, The broad expanse of sand looked damp and cool, and although I had been forbidder I thought it would not matter much if I went out just a little way on the flat. Macand the men were hurrying to get the hay up before the threatening shower, and did not notice me as I went through the long grass toward the bay. I crossed the dyke, and taking off my shoes and stockings, put them in a secure place, and in five minutes more was out of sight of the hayfield, with the vast ex- panse of sand and shining mud before me. (To be continued next week.) in THE CALL. So thus encouraged, I have written you & story about the picture in last Sunday’s CALL, which I hope will be as well favored. Iamin the seventh grade. When I have read the new Sunday CALLIgo around and hunt up old ones to read, for when they have been put aside for a while they are as good as new. Your little friend, R. MAUD MALLORY. AVALON, SANTA CATALINA ISLAND, Cal.,) Taly 57, 1806, Dear Editor: LastSunday I was reading THE CaLL and happened to see the children’s page. 1 became interested in some of the letters, and thought I would enjoy contributing to your letter-box myself. Iam spending the summer at Santa Catalina Island. Itisa delightful resort, and Ishould be sorry to leave were it not for the excitement of school work, 1 have occasionally written a few verses, and iiI thought that they might be acceptable to the children’s realm I would send some. Trusting that this may appear in “Childhood’s Realm,” although I aia 14 vears of age, I am your reader, EDNA G. BAILEY. DUDLEY, Cal., July 26, 1896. Dear Ediior: I iive on a farm thirty-three miles from a railroad. I have two sisters and two brothers. My oldest sister and I go to school. I am in the sixth grade. We raise chickens. Sometimes they are very trouble- some and they come in the house. One morn- ing a chicken camein and I set Prince, our dog, at her. He chased her through the house, and, as he was running through the door, cur cat sprang at him and scratched his nose, while her kitten ran in the house with its tail three times as large as it ought to be. Inclosed you will find answers to some of the puzzies. 1 hope they are right.! Yours re- speetfuliy, BESSIE ORCHARD (age 10). * GIANT, July 20, 1896. Dear Editer: This is the first letter I have written to you. My papa bas taken THE CALL for a long time. Ienjoy readingthe children’s page very much. Iam a little girl 8 years old. 1go 1o the public school. My teacher’s name is Miss McCarthy. xwrmmuwmum grade. Ilive near San Pablo Bay. I can see all the warships pass up and down to Mare A Curious Winery on the Ranch of Ricco Napoleon, Near Boulder Cres', Drawn by DOUGLAS W. DODGE, a San Francisco Lad, 10 Years of Age