The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, September 6, 1896, Page 27

T HE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 1896. | ullf, hiv's, W IMORNING GLORIES. We blossom in the border land Where pilgrim shadows strew The largess of a liberal hand In glittering gems of dew. Too timorous our glances are Tke noonday watch to keep; The sisters of the twilight star, With him we wake or sleep. JouN B. TasB. Be sure to read Eva Navone's letter to- day and send to dear little Willie a piece of California’s gold, in words of love. Tell him about our flowers and fruits, our beautiful bay, the wonderful ships and the strange people we meet in our streets. Tell him about our stores with their great windows and electric lights; about the cable-cars that run up-bill and down, and break down altogether when we are in the greatest hurry, and then when you've done all this just let me know how happy you feel. 0 grandiather, but she never disobeyed her | mother again, She had received a lesson that she will remember for the rest of her life. May Firzaissox, age 13 years. WCTLE RELL A surprise for next week! A prize? Oh, no: justa little ashamed corner, with all the misspelled words trying so hard to gst out of sight. Look out and see that no word of yours isin that corner. e D — IRARJORY'S LES$6N A Story for Little Girls, Written by a Little Girl Once upon a time there was a poor widow, who hgd two children, the eldest of whom was a little girl of 10 years named Marjory, who was te a good little housekeeper. She loved her baby brother very much and often took care of him all day, while ber mother went out to work. Marjory loved to make the fire and have the dinner ready for her mother when she came home in the evening. Her mother, being afraid of fire, often told her not tolight the fire; but Marjory was self-willed and disopedient. One day her mother called her and said: “Now, Marjory, I am going out, and I shatl not be home till late. “You will have to stay home with your little brother. Be a good girl and don’t touch the fire.” “No, mamma,” said Marjory; *‘I shaill be a good gitl” But Marjory, having made up mind to have a good time just as s00 ber mother went out, called her brot d said, “Now, Wiliie, you must bz ve good or you can't help me get the dinner.” answered Willie, and he I said before, had made up ave a good time. She would iinner, and then, when her me home and saw everything so i+ for her, she wouldn’t “scold Marjory. to her mother’s drawer and her purse. *Oh, dear!” sighed e girl, “how I wish we were rich— $5, just enough to pay the rent. I : think mamma would mind if I took . She will earn enough money to- ¥ to make up for it and I can tell her afterward.” So thinking, Marjory took the money and went to the store. She bought cakes, fruit, meat and milk. Just as soon as she reached home she fetchea the wood and made the fire. She thought that it would not light quick enough, so she poured coal oil on it, but when putting it away again she spiltsome on her dress. Shedid not mind it, but after awhile she went to put some wood in the fire, and before she knew it her dress was on fire. She rushed out of doors screaming ire] Fire!” She was rescued by two men, who extinguisked the flames. Marjory was found to be more fright ened than hurt. The house was seen to be burning, and the fire alarm turned on. Marjory remembered her little brother locked in the burning house, and before she could be prevented she dashed through the flames, and though nearly smothered by the smoke, she found her brother, un- hurt, near the door. She carried him out, and they just escaped when the walk fell in, burying everything. Marjory’s mother, who had been able to come home earlier than she expected, ar- rived justin time to see the walks tum- ble. The poor woman was 5o frightened that she fell in a faint on the ground. Marjory saw ber motherfall, and eagerly ran over to where she lay. Just then a kind-looking ‘0ld man was passing, and seeing the crowd he hurried on to see what was the matter. When he saw the womaxn lying on the ground he went up to ber, and after looking at her for a moment he cried, “My daughter! my daughter!” and looking up he saw Mar- jory’s tearful face and also her brother. He asked her why she was crying, and after listening to her story he called a carriage and tenderly lifted the woman and the two children in, and telling the driver where to go, jumped in himself ‘When Marjory’s mother returned to con- sciousness she found a lady bending over her, and instantly recognized her as her long-lost sister. After a happy reunion with her father and sister, she looked around the room. “Where’s Marjory ? Where’s Willie ?”” she cried. In a moment Marjory and her brother were at ber side. ‘‘Oh, mamma,’’ cried the littie girl, “I am so sorry. I will never do it again.”” Then she told her mother the whole story, and was soon for- given. Marjory lived a long time with her One morning not long ag» the noise and | din of firebells were heard clanging | tbroughout the great city of New York, | and soon an engine, drawn by three pow- | erful horses, came flying down the street. Its bell sounded—people and wagons | scattered in every direction. As the en- gine neared the crossing a little girl was seen to leave the curb and start to cross the street. 3ut before she had fairly started the engine was upon her. She | might have escaped if fear had not caused her to lose her presence of mind so that | she could not move. Tue front horse struck her, knocking ! her down, but before the wheels could touch her an old gentleman canght the little maiden in his arms and carried her | into his room in the hotel opposite. He | laia his burden in the arms of his wife, | who, after having attended to her and put her in bed, heard the story of the acci- | dent from her busband. Next morning | on awakening the child wished to leave | the hotel, but they would not let her, be- | cause she was still very week. The old gentleman guestioned her inregard to her | life. *““Where are your parents, little girl?” he asked. *‘Ain’t got none,” she | replied, “just sell matches.” “But where do you live?” pursued the | bewildered gentleman. ““Nowhere; ain’t got no home,” was the sad reply. “And do you mean to say that you live and keep your:elf by selling matches?” | he said. | BShenodded assent, and before he could | ask her another question she was once more m the land of dreams. He beld a lhurried consultation with kis wife and had a few words more with the child when she awoke, with the result that in a few hours we find her speeding away on a train to the home of Mr. and Mrs. Lang- try, her benefactors, On learning that she bad o home or guiding hand to direct her, the old gentleman, baving no child of his own, thought that he would take this friendless little one home with him to his farm after gaining the co-operation of Mrs, Langtry. ‘When the child heard the good news she was g0 wild with joy that she could nardly keep from screaming at the top of her voice. When they arrived bome and Nellie had been introduced to Dinah, the cook; Bess, the cow; Carlo, the great watchdog, the chickens, the horses and all the other inhabitants of the barnyard, sne was shown to her pretty room, took off her wraps and came downstairs to dinner, A year has passed, and she is happier than she has been for a long time. She has gained permission to invite two little outcasts, who were her friends in the great city, to come and spend a week with sher in ber beautiful country home. Dinah cooked and cooked for a week be- fore they came, until the great cupboard was filled with dainty sweetmeats. On the day of their visit the dear old pantry was thrown open to them, and the way they did eat for an hour or more was a caution. When Dinah returned and be- held the ruin of her work, she exclaimed, “Laws a massy! What moufs dem little waifses has, for sure!” After a few years the kind old couple died, leaving everything to Nellie. Time passed, and Nell married weil. * When she had little children of her own she never tired of telling to them the story of how her dear foster-parents had taken her out of the path of thorns and guided her the right way through life. ARTHUR SUGDEN (age 15). San Francisco. A Penitent He had been very naughty, had been rebellious too, And there could be no doubt at all what papa meant to do, As from its nail he lifted down a tidy little strap, Then closed the door lest baby should be wakened from her nap. But mamma came and pleaded, as she had done before, And bore him off with promises of lecturings galore. “You are a dreadful, dreadful boy; go down at once and say, “Dear paps, I will be 50 good; oh, @o forgive me pray!’ Just think—you tore his precious book and spoilt his nice new pen. I will not try to shield you if you do such things again.” In hiding mamma waited to hear the lisping voice— His meek and prompt obedience had made her heart rejoice— Icannot say just how she felt, as on her listen- ing ear . This plea for pardon fell in tones not loud but brave and clear: “Iam a good boy now, though I was awful bad to-day; And, paps, I forgive you, so may I play?” g0 out and ks i ) A i tween these thoroughbreds and the natives of the plains there were, however—and I am glad to say—do airs and no exceptions. Together they gossiped and waded the brook in the silent noontide heat. And now they marched in mixed file close upon the mules—so far along the line, however, that it seemed impossible for Neilson’s music to reach their ears. But perhaps the oddest of all were the sheep. Whether they have a sense of sweet sound I do not know; but they, too, fell in with the spirit of the march. Per- baps, in a silly, mutton-headed way, they wanted to do as other folks did. At any rate, they ambled along in Neilson’s great line, heads down and tails often wagging like mad. Such was the strange power of Neilson that I first spoke of. That he could lead so many of his friends, of so different kinds, in so long and devious a march, merely by playing gay tunes on a har- monica and beating time by the swaying of his body—this was surely owing to his love for them and to their love for him., A Yoong Geovge Was}z('ngtol\g There’s a bright little 6-year-old in Nash- ville, and his name is George Washing- ton—never mind what the rest of it is. He goes to kindergarten, and when the 224 of February is observed, all the other children are firmly convinced that the little George Washington has had a birthday party and worry the teacher to know when their own birth- Mi 6N PARADE By Kate Stephens It was a strange power that he had. It was not Neilson’s music, although that was the best I ever heard from a harmon- ica. And it was not his military gait. 1t was surely his real love for the beasts— they were his brothers, Every Sunday morning, when the weather was fair, you might see these kin of Neilson on parade. They were the belongings of a big farm, which ran for pernaps a mile along the yellow waters of the Kaw. Overhead you would see white and sunny skies. In the dense woods you would hear cardinal- birds whistle in February and doves coo in May. The soil was a rich bottom-land, and grew clover and bluegrass and tim- othy, upon which Neilson’s friends fed. Of a Sunday morning, as I was saying, up and down a meadow he would lead them—round the old oak, twenty feet in girth, standing at one end, then all across field and down to the brook. They made the figure eight; they made zeros; they circled round the red windmill that was ever whirling to pump sweet water for their troughs. And they made squares and scailops, Neilson all the time leading and blowing for dear life upon his har- monica. For tunes he played such gay things as “Annie Rooney,” ‘‘After the Ball,” and other airs that his ear had readily canght; also melodies of his native Sweden, First in the line came *“Miggies.”” She was a high-bred filly with ways as coax- ing as a woman’s. Whenever any one came by, whether man, or boy, or girl, she walked, resting her nose-tip on her friend’s shoulder. It was easier, probably, for conversation. In that way, at least, she used to tell tales of the field's sports. Then after Miggles came *“Dick” and *Nick,” and nervous “Betsy Bobbet,” and “Fanny Firefly,”” who w: s fine a buck- skin mare as ever laid back ear at the thought of any sort of wagon ahead of her; then the other horses, ten or twelye of them in aline. But Miggies was always atthe head; and in .pace with Miggles, Neilson, blowing like the west wind, and swinging his legs like a new recrait in the goose-step. Next came the mules. Poor, patient beasts! they never thought of mingling with the horses. Social lines were as clearly and as foolishly drawn in this meadow as1n the big world of men. You never saw a simple-minded mule hobbling with a high-born horse. The two endured each other’s presence, and fed in different patches. After the mules the cows dragged their slow feet; Jersey and Durham colors marked their skins, but two or three long- 4. M. H, | horned Texans filled out the herd, Be- 1 CAWT SHAKE HANDS Yes Tis- RATHER HOT, Bur 1 Dot CARE, To ul;gd: — day party is going to be, and remind her NoThanK You STER Froo, that they will be 6 years old, too, next week, and they want a birthday party, too. Well, George Washington has been fully drilled up in the bistory of the father of his country, and the leading incidents of the hatchet story have sunk deep into his mind, which sometimes he is inclined to turn to his own account. One day George Washington gave his little sister a pretty sbarp blow, which sent her crying to her mother. “Look here, young man, aren’t you ashamed to strike your little sister?” said the mother, severely. “But, mother — but, mother,” stam- mered the youngster, ‘‘you know George Washington never told a lie.” “What's that got to do with it?"” “Why, mother, I said I was going to hit her, and 1 bad to hit her,"" said the mod- ern George Washington with the full be- lief that he had exonerated himself. Scarcely able to repress the smile and re- tain her attitude of severe reproof, the mother said: “Well, you sée to it that you make no more such promises.”—Nashville American. 8AN Fravcisco, Cal, Aug. 25, 1896, Dear Editor: i ike to read the children’s page of THE CALL, for it haslots of letters, stories and poems. We have been taking Tae CaLy for a long time, and we like it very much. As this is my first letter I should like to see it in next Sunday’s CALL. Your loving friend, NORMAN MORGAN, ELMHURST, Cal,, Aug. 31, 1896. Dear Editor: As I bavenot seen any letters from this town I thought I would write a few lines. Ihavea baby sister who ‘was fourteen months old yesterday, I have another sister nine and a brother seven. Iremain, yourlitile reader, MAUD L. HOOPER, 11 years, P. 8.1t you have room I should like to see my letter published. I shall never take any paper but THE CALL. MARSHALL, Cal., Aug. 14, 1896, Dear Editor: This is my first letter to Tug LL. Ilike the. Children’s Page very much, and every Sunday my brothers and sisters and I always try who will be the first to read it. 1 am in the fourth grade. My teacher’s name is Miss Anna L. Hornsby. We all like her very much. Iwalk two miles toschool. My letter is get- ting too long, so I shall close, hoping to see it Jublished in Bunday's Call Please do mot 1 throw it in the waste-basket. I am,s new iriend, CLELIA LEAE BEREI, age 10. CALISTOGA, Cal., Aug. 31. Dear Editor: I want to ask the boys and girls ‘Who read THE CALL to read these letters from a lfttle sick boy who lives in Kensas. In June thisletter from him was printed in a paper called Comfort in a column called “Chats With Aunt Minerva and Her Owls”: “I am eleven years old and -annot walk or stand, but Iwill Jove yoa all just as much as any onecan. Mammaand Iliveall alone on & claim two miles from a station. Ican cut out the pic- tures in my Comfort and mamma keeps her papers for me. I want to write about my dog Cato. He is only a year old. Mamma puts me in my little wagon and Cato pulls me. Now, how do you suppose he pulls me? He takes hold of the tongue with his teeth and runs and pulls me. He is all the pet I have. 1 had a nice kilty, but the coyotes got it. Auntle, do you care if 1askmy little cousins to send me some nice cards or picture-books? I sit in mamma’s large rocker ail day and play or look at books. Mamma says I am her Comfort. WILLIE ZIMMERMAN, «Plerceville, Kans.” [1 hope some of you young folks that can run about and play will remember this new cousin and will write to Willle, or will send him some- thing. Think, what would you do it you wers confined t0 a chailr? Remember the “Golden Rule.” ] AUST MINERVA. PIERCEVILLE, Kans., Aug. 13, 1896. Dear Little Friends: 1received your nice let- ter. Iwish to thank you for cards, book, etc. Ihave been very ill all summer. I cannot lie down at night or day. Icough so badly I have spinal disease, lung trouble and heart disease. 1 have a good many letters, cards, papers, etc., sentme. Iam stiil on the claim, but I believe when I get abie to travel we will leave the claim, as itis so dry here we ¢an’st resise any- thing. Ishould like to see Celifornia. Mamma says it must be a lovely country. Ishould like to see you, Eva, and your little brother. I send love to you both, as Mamma does also. Your little friend, WILLIE ZIMMERMAN. P. §.—Cato, my doggie, sends his regards, I know, because he is saying “bow-wow.” He is such a nice dog. Isitin my chairallday. At night Mamma props me up with pillows, bus sometimes I cannot lean against them for coughing. WILLIE. I sent him some pictures, and about two months afterward received this letter from him. Now I want some of you children to send him something or write a “letter to him. Your friend, EvA NAVONE. KELSEYVILLE, Cal.,, Aug. 30, 1896. Dear Sirs: This is my first letter to you, and Ihope you will be pleased with it. My father takes TRE CALL, and I read it every night A esting puzzle if the offer is acceptable. Now, please don’t refuse us this favor. Many of your young readers wish it whose motives are notmercenary. It gives them above all a great pleasure to be able to show with legiti- mate pride these rewards as results and tangi- ble proois of their bright and youthful intel- ligence and to receive the congratulation of friends, urged on thereby to greater efforts. “THE CALL speaks for ail.” Just for this one time allow your puzzle-solvers to speak for themselves. M. 1. SELIG. DUNSMUTR, Siskiyou County, Cal., Sept 2. Dear Editor: 1have seen so meny letters in THE CALL that I thought I would write one, too. 1havea plece of poetry Ishould like to have published in next Sunday Children’s Corner, if itis worthy a .little space. We are camping in the mountains, and are having a nice time, running over the hills and visiting the mineral springs. We have been on a visit to the Upper Soda Springs and also to Masons cave. Our camp is near ‘‘Shasta Retreat,” and we have lots of friends there. Itisa fine place for a summer resort, and a great many people are camping there. There is a spring at Hedge Creek camp. I4m 10 years old. Ire- main, yours truly, BEATRICE V. COFFMAN. SAN FrANCISCO, Cal., Sept, 1, 1896. Dear Editor: This 1s my first letter to any newspaper. I am & boy 12 yearsof age. I years of age, Alired, 7, Hugo, 4. My papa, has been taking THE CALL since three years and & hali. Iwaspromoted from the sixth grade to the seventh. My old teacher was Miss Keat- ing, and my new teacher is Mr. Kingsbury. He is a man. lalways wished to be a CALL carrier. I hoped I could get & routeif you need sny. WILLIE GERCKE. MAMMA’S BOY. Dear Editor: At Sunnyside, near Ocean View, Lives little Hgnry Mohr, He tramps his mamma’s garden through And dirties her nice floor. He climbs upon the highest chair And makes an awful noise, But what does Henry’s mamma care, She has no other boys. A thousand funny things he does, Which only mamma sees; He even stuck his little nose, Into & box of bees. Now, would you like to know, my dears, How old this darling is 7 I'm sure his mamma told me That he was just—two years. Mges. M. IMITENHAUS. INGOMAR, CAL., Aug. 28, 1896. Dear Editor: 1 have not seen any letters from this place, so I thought I would write one. My grandpa takes THE DAILY CALL and enjoys reading the letters very much. We have a cat and two dogs and a pet chicken. Our school starts the 7th of September. We have a nice teacher. I shall have to close. LesLIE HOLLINGSWORTH (aged 8 years). Sax FRANCISCO, Aug. 22, 1896. Dear Editor: Tam a little girl, going to the Mission Grammar School. I saw a letter in THE CALL written by one of my friends, and so my cousin Sedrick, who is here with me now, and myself thought we would write also. lhopel will see my letter, as well as my cousin’s, in next Sunday’s CALL. Itake great interest in reaaing the “Chil- dren’s page” of THE CALL. lremain, TED. SAN FRANCISCO, Aug. 22, 1896. Dear Editor; We have been taking THE CALL foralong time, and I take great pleasure in reading the “Children’s Page.” The letters are very interesting. Many of my {friends write to have their letter put in the paper, so I thought I would do so also. I go to the Everett Grammar School, on Sanchez sireet. Mrs. Banning is our principal. Iam inthe eighth grade. Iremain, lovingly, SEDRICK. LINCOLN,Cal., August 24. DearEditor: 1t has been a long time since I have written to THE CALL. I liked the story Bessie and Pomona. It was very interesting. My papa works in the pottery up here. There are a great number of men employed init. I go to the Congregational Sunday-school. I shall close. Iremain your friend, MINNIE WYATT. FRANKTOWN, Aug. 12, 1896. My Dear Editor: 1t seeins so long & time since I have written to the dear old CALL that tu-day I thought I would write and tell you the cause of my long silence. I have not been very well for a few weeks and have been taking a little rest from my pleasant duties. The warm weather and too much fruitare to blame, not Henry. My vacation is npearly at an end, I have had a splendid time. I have been to Car- son City quite often to visit friends, and have been trout-fishing a greatdeal. My best boy I am 12 years old. My birthday comes i £ Hunt as & Ce . it on September 28, My initials spell my name. We had two little pigs, one named Bryan and the other one is named McKinley. “Bryan” died, so that shows that “McKinley” will get the election. From your little reader, Roy 0. Youxe. SAN FrANCISCO. Dear Editor: Welcome home again from those sunny sea-girt isles. Do tell us some. thing about your charming trip. Don’t be’an- noyed with your vice-editor for giving us last week that ngughty prize. You ask us if we want those prizes, the 950 puzzle-solvers that strove soeagerly to win that prize; answer, yes, and hundreds more would soon enter tne list also. I know some one who is willing to offer a very nice prize for the smart little girl or boy who first sends in the correct solution of an imter- Yoy queer fellow, 15 Rutherford Rea Il gve my bet idlo> iflever T see M Such & curious, very queer fellow as het friend is Julien Guinan; he lives in Carson I all Kankakee there are none Bt agree_ Amore singalar. fellow you never will secin’ you may till yowre old and grayp From China o Cope Henlopen _’Ful' every time his elbow bends His o moufi-_c;’o flies o cpen. - City and is Dr.Guinan’s youngest son; he is 1o come to visit me. We snall go to the lake fishing, and I'm sure have a grand time. I wish some of the little S8an Francisco boys could come and catch catfish in Washoe Lake. It is such fun to see them wiggle at the end of your line. My dog Billy has & new trick; he smokes a pipe and looks so sober that we have | to langh at him, Good-by, dear editor. I hope I shall meet you some day, for you are so kind to us little boys and girls. Your little friend, HENRY SAGEBRUSH, aged 9 years. Forsox, Cal., August 31, 1896. Dear Editor: Having seen so many letters in Childhood’s Realm I thought that I would write one too, 1have one brother and nosis- ek My brothes's aame is Frank, Welive on have three brothers besides me—Arthur, 9 | . & vineyard about five miles from Folsom. Our schoolhouse is one and a half miles from the house, so papa got us & little pony to ride on. we call him Jip. I bhave found out thean- swers to the puzzles in yesterday’s CALLand send them in. Your reader, HERBERT BROWN. 84N FRANCISCO, Cal., Aug. 23, 1896. Dear Editor: 1 went up near Donner Lake this summer and had a very nice time, playing outdoors and going fishing. There were so many wild flowers, I picked a bouquet nearly cvery day. We had a playhouse ontdoors by the creck that we called *“The Bower.” 1go to school and am in the “Second Reader.”” "1 am 6 years old. 1 have a brother namea Charlie. This is my first letter. Your new friend, RUTH E. LEWIs, 223 Guerrero street- OAKLAND, Cal., Aug. 23, 1896. Dear Editor: 1 am 8 years old and go to the Prescott School. I am inthe A third grade. My teacher’s name is Miss Neylan, I have.a very nice little playhouse called Pansy Cot- tage. Itisfurnished with table, chairs, dishes and piano. Itiscarpeted and papered. WHen my playmates come to visit me we have good times. My grandpa has taken THE CALL for twenty-three years. Your litde friend, LINNIE CHASE. 1708 William street, West Oakland. SAN FrRANCISCO, Aug. 25, 1896. Dear Editor : 1 have read the stories in the cbildren’s page every Sunday, and especially the Donald series. Ioften wondered who Don- ald was and what was his last name. Now I think Iknow. He is alittle boy who lives on Douglass street and fights with everybody. L thin it would be lots of fun if all your letter- writers would say who they think Donald is. I am 9 years old and go to Reginald’s school, where I have iots of chums and fellows. 1am your new friend, JOHNNY CULLEN. 546 Fillmore street. 8AN FRANCISco, Cal., Aug. 18, 1896. Dear Editor : We have been taking THE CALL and like it very much. I will write you & story. This is the first time 1 have ever writ- ten to any newspaper. Iam 11}4 years of age and go to the Mission Grammar School and I am in the sixth grade. My teacher’s name s Mrs. Wallace. I have two pets at home—a eat and a canary bird. The cat’s name is Kitty snd the canury bird’s name is Dick. 1have two sisters, Laura and Josie. I hope you will publish my letter and story in Sunaay’s CALL. I will close. Your new friend, TINA BIDEKOFF. HEALDSBURG, Cal., Aug. 17, 1896. Dear Editor: In the Sunday’s CALL I read about the “Fruit and Flower Mission,” and if itis true that Wells, Fargo & Co. will take the things free of charge to the mission, I am will- ing to send some things myself. 1 guessed two of the puzzles—the first and fourth. Now Iwill close. Iam your friend, EMILIA NARDINL P.8. Iwill send you a story about “The” adventures of the Indians in Arizona while I lived there. E. N. SAN FRANCISCO, Cal., Aug. 23, 1896. Dear Fditor: 1am s little girl 12 years old. My mamma has always taken THE CALL, and will not have any other paper. I always read the “Childhood’s Realm.” I think the stories are lovely. I hope to be able some day to write like the editor of the clildren’s page. I send you my solution of the puzzle. It is the household word in our house. Your constant reader, May BURxS. 16194 Post street. Many thanks to the boys and glrls, whose names we publish, for pleasant moments spent in reading their interesting communications: Lottie Wallman. B. Williamson. Harry Sheeban. Tina Bidekoff. Jessie M. W ells. Hazel Toof. Frank Mitchell, Arthur Blint. Ethel Lucas. Alce Beil. Emma Hollenbeck. Norman Buchner. Eva Navone. Hilda Lippi. Bessie Orchard. Pearl Moore. Clara Orchard. Eva Pries. Edna Rouner. Mabel Clayton. Ella Anlers. Beckie Heino. Ethel Nichols. i Beatrice B. Coffman. Etta Peabod; o LES T >k PUZZ n iy Yl Correct answers to puzzles of August 30: L. Violin. II. When it is sowed (sewed) over and over. IIL. Please re-member me. 1V. Unite—untie. V. You will never miss the water till the well runs dry. VI. California wes admitted asaState on the 9th of September, 1850. VIIL Lafayette wes born September 6, 1757. 'VIIL Balboa discovered the Pacific Ocean in September, 1513. Puzzles for September 6, 1896: 1. Concealed birds— (a) How late you are! (b) What bitter, nasty stuff. (c) He ate all my dinner. (d) Ah!awkward he is, indeed. () Lo! Onward they come. II. “Belle Plit Poe,” As you very well know, Out in the green fields long ago, Merrily followed a pleasant trade. But I am afrad the poor little maid, That one day she cried When far and wide She sought her lost treasures on every side, Till somebody, who I never knew, Kindly told her what to do. Selected from Youths’ Companion, CROSSWORD ENIGMA. In fig, notin date. In worm, not in bait. In rat, not in mouse. In barn, not in house. In zing, not in gold. In new, not in old. Name of & country unfold. VEGETABLE PUZZLE. 1-7 of a cabbage. 1{ of a bean. 1-7 of head of lettuce. 14 of & pea. 1-6 of a radish. 350fa yam. ‘What vegetable will these make when added together 7 V. Why would s spider appear to have wings ? Selected. ur Correct answers to all or a majority of last week’s puzzles have been received from Alice Bell, Dana 8. Rek, May E. Peters, Frances Pe. ters, M. Selig, Peazl Moore, Josie Clark,