The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, September 13, 1896, Page 27

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL. SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 1896. 27 Oh, dear! Those misspelled words made perfect little morning glories of my boys and girls, didn't they ? All right, I'm glad now you’'ll be more careful, wont you? Don’t be afruid! Of course I didn’t mean to publish your names, oh, no! Only the common, every-day words which every boy and girl of 16 years should know how to spell correctly; and yet when ycu write to me you are in such a hurry to see some- thing of yours in print that you don’t! stop to think at_all. Now, suppese some | of these days I should publish a letter | from you with some simple word in- correctly spelled, wouldn’t you feet ashamed? But there, we've had our little lesson, so after this we shall be more | careful, | This week I wish each one of you to| send in a sentence containing the hidden | name of a statesman, And right here, a | word . to those who contribute puzzles: | Always send the proper solution to the | editor aiso. So Lucy Moeller, if this week | you will rewrite your puzzles and send | me the answers I shall be glad to publish | your contributions in the mext *‘Child- | hood’s Realm.” | No, Johnny Cullen, you are wrong. | Donald does not live on Douglass street, | and be does not fight with everybody. | Donald’s mamma read your letter to him, | and be said: *“You just tell that boy that | I don’t like to fight a bit, but sometimes a | feller just basto get in when it's areal | bad fuss like a big fellow jumpin’ on a| little kid1"” Weoé KamL\(ngS. ; Come, little ones, and let us slowly wander Through the green woods where quiet shad- ows tall, Where the warm sunight sifts in golden patches | From nigh above and through the branches | tail. Here & cold stream runs swift through moss | and bracken, Dark as the stones that form its narrow way, Seve where the sunlight falls in shafts of vellow To light the fishes at their darting play. to its fellow. d in pale green There a gray squirrel chat Beyond the ferns that sheaves A baby rabbit peers among the bramble Of running vines and dritis of wind-swept | leaves. Now shadows deepen, and the way grows wilder: | All sounds seem far away—the birds ate still; | Till branches part and sunshine soft and | mellow ‘ Makes bright & hollow 'neath the wooded | hill. | Here 1n the silence, sale from rough winds blowing, A tiny lake lies smooth and sweetly cool; Asingle lily blooms in white perfection And casts its shadow on the quiet pool. A wandering bee comes buzzing o'er the water, Alazy turtle climbs upon a stone, A tired bird has perched above the shallo%w To rest a moment from the distance flown. Soon will dim shadows fall, the day departing, The blue sky darken and the stars appear, The pale moon rise to light the shining water, And down the slopes will come the thirsty { deer. WALDEOS W. ANDERSON. THE MSCONGCENTED KNG A TALE OF THE SANDMAN. By Rebecca dJ. Gradwohl Once upon a time there was a King who for many years had ruled over a very | pretty country. His reign had been a peaceful one; there had been no famine, no wars, no trouble of any kind; in fact all nad gone so well that his rule had be- come monotonous. He longed for some change. One day he sat thinking if there could not be something wrong some- where, and, like all people who persist in looking for troubie, be concluded he had found it. In great haste he sent for his Prime Minister. “8ir,’* said the King, as the Minister bowed before him, “bow lower still.”” The man did so. The King, still dis- satisfied, said: “Get on your knees.” The man with some difficulty—for he was large and stout—got on his knees. “That,” said the King, “is why I sent for you. The people of my kingdom do not show me sufficient honor. I wish them to fall upon their knees whenever they see me.”” “*Very well,” replied the Prime Minister, “the people sbhall be informed of your Majesty's wish.” So the King’s edict went forth. Bat it was not received with the satisfaction that had heretofore greeted his decrees. The men would not have objected, though 1t was rather hard for those who were old or feeble; but the women positively re- fused. *“It wili spoil our clothes,” they said, “and our husbands’, and all our time will have to be spent in brush- ing and cleaning.” Therefore they de- cided that the King's inandate was un- just. They would not submit to it, and by constant talking they influenced the men so that they, too, rebeiled. Great was the King's wrath when he found his command disobeye: in he summoned the Prime Minister and de- manded the resson of this sudden rebel- lion. “Your Majesty,” answered the man, ashe slowly fell upon his knees, *'the trouble is with the women. They object to brushing clothes day and night, and the men fear their wives.”” “What!” said the King, angrily, “the men fear their wives more than they do their King! As for the women, they had better be brushing clothes than ga | Majesty, but though I can invoke it 1 can- punishment as was never before heard of | Take ten minutes to think.” The wizard remained upon his knees with his head between his hands. At the appointed time he looked up and said: “I have thought of a punishment, your not remove it."” *“No matter,’” replied the King; ‘‘what s it *It is the plague of sleeplessness. No | one in the kingdom, except your Majesty and myself, shall be allowed to sleep here« after.” “Good!” exclaimed the King, forget- ting in his eagerness the Queen and the Prime Minister, who had not disobeyed him. *“Itistheir just desert,” That night at 12 o'clock everybody awoke from a sound slumber; babies cried, oider children fidgeted and grown people tossed restlessly upon their beds. 0 they continued all night. The next | ay everybody was cross and tired. They: all said: *To-night we shall gzo to bed at sun- | down.” It was still day when they retired, but | again no one could sleep. The babies were dosed with catnip tea and soothing syrups, but still they cried. The older children said their A, B, C's backward and forward, and counted up to thou-| sands, and yet they were wakefal, Thaf grown people got up, walked about, took hot drinks and resorted to all known methods of inducing slumber; but all ta no purpose. Atdawn they arose, but the men were so tired they were unable to go | to their work. They sat around and | gaped, The women scelded and tried to| soothe their crying children. Three days passed like this, Then it| began to dawn upon the winds of the peo- | ple that the King had something to do | with their sleepiessness; that in his anger he had visited upon them this punish- meni. They reso.ved to go in a body to the castle. (To be contil HOW BILLY BROSGHT THE NEWS. | [Willlam Keenan, about whom the following | true story Is told, has for a great many years been a resident of Livermore, Alameda County, Calj d next Sunday.) One day a long time ago, before San Francisco was so Jarge or so fine a City as it is to-day and before California had be- come a State, little Billy Keenan and his sister Mary were walking up and down one of the sandy beaches which are kissed by the waters of our beautiful bay. High on ths beach far out of the reach of the breakers lay the little boy’s boat, at which he every now and then looked lov- ingly, for it was his pride and his joy. A bold sailor was he, this young lad, and the happiest hours of his days were those spent by him either rowing or fishing in hus boat, The dangers of the bay were not so well known then as now, and often it was very rough, out little cared he 1f sometimes his boat did tip over, for he was a good swim- mer, and an easy matter it was for him to right it again, Only the fear of his worrying his dear father and mother kept him from explor- ing the harbor in its every part. But to return to our story. Suddenly the children stopped ‘in their walk, ex- claiming, as if with one breath, g ihere she comes—we saw her first!” as in through the Golden Gate a large steamer | slowly made ber way. “Hip, hip, hurrab!"” cried the children as they clapped their hands and danced | for joy. Oh, how Billy longed to jump into his boat and go out to meet the vessel that was bringing to the far West such impor- tant news from the great world beyona! But he knew his father would ‘be dis-1 pleased if he should go so far alone. In a few moments afterward his wish was granted, and in a way which brought to him a life-long pleasure. Behind the little boy and girl came two men, running with all their might, just as a great gun boomed out irom theap- proaching vessel. On reaching the beach the men gianced hurriedly up and down, and then looked hopelessiy at each other. Suddenly they spied the chilaren stand- ing beside the tiny skiff. At once a gleam of joy lightened their faces, for Billy and his sister were well known to these men, who were the editors of one of the first great San Francisco dailies, You know there were not many little ding about and gossiping. We shall see! We shall see! 8end for the chief wizard.” The chief wizard came. “Man,” said the King, ‘‘my people have disoheved me, Visit upon them such a boys and girls in California in the days of '49 and '50, and the few who did live here were known far and wide, and were much petted, especially by the miners and sail- ors. “Say, Billy,” cried one of the men com- ** They Were Greeted With Shouts and Cheers From the Crowd.” ing toward them, *‘do you think you could Tow us out to the steamer in your little boat? You know we hope she has brought the glad news that California has been made a State.”’ “Yes, yes, of course I can,” answered the boy before the words had fairly left Mr. Editor's mouth. “Then come quick hefore the other newspaper fellows get down. Oh, do hurry, Bitly.” The boy, as eager as they, soon pushed the boat into the water and in another moment they were off, the boat crowded to its utmost. The men sat with legs very much doubled up and looked as if any moment they might lose their balance and tumble into the water, while the boy, with flashing eye and heaving breast, managed his oars with the skill of a man. A hero be was, indeed, in the eyes of his sister, who stood on the sand watching him fondly and waving her handkerchief to give him good cheer as the Iittle boat rocked and .dipped over the waves. At last the steamer was reached. After afew hurried words of explanation the impor- tant papers which conveyed the Jonged-for tidings were thrown into the arms of the bappy men in Billy’s little boat. Then for shore agaip! Hard as the brave young boy worked he ¢ouldn’t make his boat speed fast enough to satisfy the impatient editors, but not once would he allow his oars to be handled by other than himsetf. When they reached the shore they were greeted with shouts and cheers trom the crowds, which by this time bad gathered | to watch the steamer. Throwinga hand- ful of gold at the feet of the boy who had shown such pluck and nerve and telling him to come to their office the next day and ask for anything within their power to bestow off they rushed like the wind. Billy, spurning the idea of receiving any reward other than the satisfaction whicn ! success in his undertaking had brought, A DIALGYE - WI1GH 2CK. By Alice Gale Woodbury. Dick is just 16. I am ten years his senior and his uncle. I am afraid Ido not look my age, for I have noticed that Dick does not seem to ireat me with any particular reverence. However, we are wreat friends. Dick has arrived at the cigaretie stage. [ suspect he has been experimenting for six months or more; yet he has never men- tioned the fact, and we have just found it out, When I atked bim why he hadn’t told of his new accomplishment, he re- plied that he had observed the odor was more or less penetrating, and he leit the rest to our imagination. Then he pulled out a pretty cigarette-case and offerea me its contents. “Thanks; not any,” I said as politely as possible, adding: *‘1 have no ambition to make life more luxurious than it now is for the family undertaker or the City Coro- ner.” “Oh, stuft!” exclaimed Dick. “Exactly,” 1 replied. *Miserable stuff, at that!” “I mean it’s all poppycock!” “+Poppycock’ ” isn't in the dictionary,” I replied, “but if it means poison, why, I agree,’”’ *‘You know what I mean,” rejoined my nephew; ‘I mean you're talking non- sense—and bosh—just because it's the fad to preach ' to boys agaipst cigarette smoking. Idon’t know wbuy; Isuppose because parents don’t like to have their ‘sons begiy, and because mothers dislike to bave their curtains . perfumed with smoke.” “Take out yoar watch, Dick,” said I. “Open the inner case and blow your smoke upon the works.” 'Not much!” objectea Dick. “I'm no idiot. Do you think I want to ruin my watch?” “So you think that proceeding would ruin your watch, do you? Well, it would do tar less harm to the works of your ‘watch than the same process would to the works of your body—by that I mean the tissues, and especially the lungs. It will use up your lunes, to say nothing of your life. If you really wish to accomplish this end I should advise you to start in on another poison. The result will be the same, with possibly less suffering.’’ “Look here,”” exclaimed Dick, “fet’s talk straight trath. You know I could smoke cigarettes until doomsdav and not even become an invalid if I took care of my health in other ways—now don’t you?” *No, I couldn’t be sure of it at all. In fact, 1n your particular case everything is against your theory. There may be some “Behind the Boy and Girl Came Two Men, Running With All Their Might.” threw himself exhsusted but proud and happy at the feet of his sister; then, I as- sure you, he was praised and petted to his heart’s content. Now, let's hurry after those editors. Well, they got out an extra edition of their paper, which heralded the welcome news all over the city long before the sun went down, and best of all to them they got abead of the other fellows. After this when you think of the 8th of September as the birthday of the most glorious State in the Union, and of the pleasant way in which you celebrated it this year, think also of little Billy Kee- nan, who first brought the news to shore in his tiny boat just forty-six years ago. “There, Willie,”” said the lad’s mother, is 10 cents for you. Now, what are you going to do with it1?” “Save it up to buy fireworks for the Fourth of July,” replied the boy in a tone whose positiveness was almost defiant. ““Why, Willie, you know you are saving up your money to give to the heathen.’’ *Y-yes'm, but the Chinese are heathen, aren’t they «"" “‘Yes, dear.” “And the Chinese make the firecrackers, don't they ?” “I am told they do." “Well, then, the heathen’ll get my money just the same, 80 it’s all right.” A small boy wascapering around the room the other day when his mother remarked: “Why, Arthur, you are certainly beside yourself this morning.”” Arthur paused, thought a moment, and replied: . “Why, mother, I thought I was beside you" Teacher (unable 10 conceal her anger and disgust)—Tommy Winks, you spell horribty 1" Tommy—*H-o-r-r-1-b-bv.” fellows who have lungs like a blacksmith’s beilows and constitutions like the Sphinx's, who could stand it and not succumb. But you can’t; neither cen nine out of ten of the young fellows who go around with their fancy cases of the peisonous little paper rolis.”’ )¢ “Why not?"’ asked Dick. “Because you won’t smoke without in- baling. So youdraw the poison directly into the lungs and it is conveyed to the blood. You can’t take poison into the blood and not feel it in time, any more than you can put a drop of inx in a bowl of clear water and keep the water from be- coming tinged.” “Yes,” said Dick, “but the pure water soon purifies the drop of ink, and 1t disap- pears and is seen no more.” “Very true,"” said I, “but put in another and another, until you have dropped in a whole bottle, and then see what you've got.” *You must have had the dickens of a time with cigarettes,” observed my nephew. “What did they do to yon 2"’ «* ‘This is what tbey did,’ I replied. ‘¥or six months—nothing. Then I learned to inhale, Then I be, to wonder why I didn't feel strong and jolly any more. Why, I bated to get upin the morning, and never wanted to retire at night. Sometimes I used to have dizzy turns and come near falling in a crowded street. I couid only drag myself upstairs with an effort. Every one called it malaria, and I supposed it was. The doctor found my puise up to 110, and sometimes my heart would be thumping away like a lightning typewriter.’ ** Ob, but you were smoking too much— you were overdoing it,’ remonstraied Dick. | “Of course; but that's the worst of it. Somehow they always overdo it. You haven’t reached that point, but when you do you'il- be unable to stop or slow up, unless you are placed under treat- ment.” = 3 *‘Oh, I guess not!' laughed- Dick, with an incredulous shrug of his shouiders, “Your height is just five feet four and a balf now,” I cantinued. *‘Your ancestors were stalwart men and astately women, You have every title to a stature of six feet, yet I doubt it you ever grow another inch.” “I don’t see why,” said Dick, in a startled tooe. “‘Because smoke inhaled stops all growtk of tissue, your growth will be checked.” “Whew!" whistled Dick. *‘8o there, my dear boy, 1f you want to be a puny, saffron-colored young dyspep- tic."”” said I, “keep on, and in just about three years—five at the most—yon wiil reach that goal of unmanly ” “But it's awfully bard to break off, You know that yourself.” “Indeed I do,” I replied. “No one knows it any better. If it's hard at 18it will be much harder at 26.” “But how shall T do it?” said Dick, stealthily dropping his cigarette and grinding it under his heel. “F!ln’yonr cigareites away—case and Y OUNCE s PETER About - Peter 3, Sa’un—{; Per Browne drsve kine Lind earsed Sor it a pemnie, Vil ot b buy ubat by 55 bausht o flk . Lnd fheve to et it all m;/éye! For of ke st bome "Twill only mg](z afy For all the Bowes like raé/ 5 of candy 't uff you Knowe. éROWWE ) fo Tiume, wantz. all,” gsaid I, “and then have a hand-to- hand fight with yourself every time the] appetite comes on. Keep up the good | fight. Don’t give :n. When you get your growth—your full manly strength and ten | years more of life—if yon want to smoke, must smoke, go and buy a pipe and some good tobacco. It's the least harmful phase of the evil. But if you take your unele’s advice you'lt never begin again.” “You talk as if you were a Methuse- lah,” langhed Dick. “But anyhow, I'd | rather take a young man's advice on smok- ing. Somehow it goes against the guln} to have an oider man preach, who has | been through the mill, and haa all the | fun.” | Then we mounted our wheels and went for 8 spin.—Golden Days, 17 the TRoWerty Tree.| There’s a little boy livesin the mulberry tree— | In the very tip-top, tip-top; And bis mother is holding her apron, for he May drop when the mulberries drop— Drop—drop— From the very tip-top! Drop when the mulberries drop! Why does he live in the top o’ the tree? That's what the boys want to know— Such a dear little, q little fellow is he, Way up where the mulberries grow! Drop—drop— From the very tip-top! Ob, won't he come down when the mulber- ries drop! Once he was home with his mother and all, As good as the boys ever be, But he couldn’t just wait for the berries to 1all, So the wind blew him into the tree! Drop—drop— From the very tip-top! Oh, won't he come down when [the mulber- Ties drop! And the pirds built & nest and they laid him aw And that's why he stays in the tree; And his mother is holding her apron all day, Aud a very sad motner is she! Drop—drop— - From the very tip-top! OUh, won’t he come down when the mulber- ries drop! FRANK L. STANTON. M IDan(t_fJ.i'o»\ Cork Boy some of the largest corks you ean find, the long ones that are used in the long-necked green bottles, and in one end digouta hole. Into this put a leaden bullet, or several large shot, and stop up the hole with putty. Round off the edges of the cork &t this end, and your dancer is ready to dance. Around the top of the other end of the cork paste on a little blue hood of tissue- paper; make a dress of the samé and tie on a sash of tiny ribbon. On the cork make with ink the prettiest {ace you can, and then set the young lady a-dancing. Two or three of these makea very pretty gift for any child. e —————— The “limited”” train was rushing along at the rate of sixty miles an hour when a five-year-oid youngster, who was sitting at the window, was startled by the rush and roar of a passing train, and fell back in his fright. Recovering bimself quickly he Jooked up in his father's face and ped : .“.'Pnll did we swallow it?” “What do you call a girl who kas done a brave act?” asked Harry's father. “Nota hero, but a—what?” “I know,” said Harry promptly. “A she-ro!”—Youth. 5 3 An Arab Proverb — When you have done any one s faver, throw into the sea Nano’ ;_I_Zight»\m, Iam the doll that Nanev broke! Hadn't been hers 2 week. One little squeeze, and I sweetly spoke, Rosy and fair was my cheek. Now my head lies in a corner far, My body lies here in the other; Ana if this is what human children are, I never will live with another! Tam the bock that Nancy read For fifteen minutes together; Now I am standing here on my head, While she's gone to look at the weather. My leaves ure crushed in tl.2 cruelest way, There's jam on my opening page; And I would not live with Miss Nancy Gay, Though I shouldn’t be read for an age! I am the frock that Nancy wore Last night at her birthday feast. Iam the frock that Nancy tore In seventeen places at least. My buttons are scattering far and near, My trimming is torn to rags; And if I were Miss Nancy's mother dear I'd dress her in calico bags' We are the words that Nancy said When these things were brought to her view All of us ought to be painted red, And some of us are not true. We splutter and mutter and snarl and snap, ‘We smolder and smoke and blaze; | And if she'd not meet with some sad mishap, Miss Nancy must mend her ways. Lavura E. RICHARDS in 8t. Nichol —————— SAN FRANCISCO, Cal., Sept. 7, 1896. Dear Editor: T read the children’s p age of THE SUNDAY CALL, and I am very much inter- ested in the puzzles and send the answers of of my teacher is Miss Puckhabor. Iam in the fourth grade. I have a cat who has two play- ful kittens, She catches mice, gophers and squirrels. Iliveon a ranch near King City, I have a little sister and her name is Josephine. She is 6 years old and goes to the same school as I do and is in the second reader. Now, as my letter is growing long, I will close, hoping to see it in next Sunday’s CaLL. Your litile friend, ExMa HOLLENBECK (age 10 years). Fort Joxes, Siskiyou County. Cal, September 5, 1896. Dear Editress: I notice the other little chil- dren are writing to you, so I thought I would write too. I have one brother. His name is Elmere. He is five years old. I have apet kitten which is yellow and white. His name is Goldie Blue Eyes. We have a dog, Rover. Papa and mamma are reading. Brother is asleep. Our school opens Monday, and Iam going to go. Ihave about two miles to walk. My papa’s name is Lewis; my mamma’s name is Matilda. My letter is getting so long I shall have to elose it. Your little reader, LELACE CLARK. P.S.—Tama little girl ten yearsold. Iwill write more next time. Good-by. I will be pleased if I see this in print. I made outone puzzle which was as follows: I'll never miss the water till the well runs dry. Ihopeitis correct. LE.C. SaN FRaNcrsco, Sept. 8, 1896, Dear’ Editor: ‘Will you please publish this letter about me ana my kitty: Hazel had a dear little Kitty, Who had always lived in the city; But one day he ran up and down Till he found himself quite out of town. She looked tiil she foupd him, Then brought him back home And went to the butcher's for a nice big bone, She threw It down right on the mat, But Mr. Puss ate nothing but fat. “You naughty kitty ! you Have no sense!” At this the cal jumped over the fence. 1 guess Hazol's pet has gone forever, For the poor little girl sees him never. FroM A TINY GIRL. Note from Editor. The letters réceived this week were all most earefully written, your editor having found but one misspelled word—namely, squirrel. PUZZLES 72 7 14 11 A il} i 1-11 1. What is that which has never been felt, seen or heard and yet has a pame ? Lou PARsoNs. IL If Ishould give James 12 cents and Wile liam 13 cents what time would it be ? . ALICE BELL. III, “Saw nothing.” Find in these two words the name of a man well known and dear to all the readers of Childhood's Realm. EppIE BOYLE. DROPPED VOWELS. Cnnn trght f thm, Cunn t 1t f thm, Cann n irnt f thm, Vllyd nd thndrd. Also give author’s name. V. Behead to listen and have what you listen transpose and have a verb. . Curiail worry and have a vehicle: trans. pose and have part of a eircie. VII Reverse a term of endearment and have what you like to do when this page comes to you. VIIL My 1 is & vegetable. My 2 isakind of oil. The letters of these two words properly ar« ranged spell the name of a month. IX. My 1 isthe dawn. My 2 is brightness. My whole the name of a flower. X. PL Hrapeips. The name of a precious stone. i v, Correct answers to puzzles of September 6: Concealed birds. L (a) Owl (b) Bittern. (c) Teal (q) Hawk. (e) Loon. IL The little girl’s name—Little Bo Peep. 1L France. 1V. Celery. V. Because he often takes a fiy. Correct answers to puzzles of September 6 have been received from Madalena Lagomar- sino, Dora Fritschi, Dorothy Green, Alice Bell snd Max Selig. the crossword enigma and vegetable puzzles. The answer to crossward enigma is France, and the answer of the vegetable puzzle is cel- ery. Hoping they are correct, as this isthe first time I have written to THE CALL, I remain yours singerely. DOROTHY GREEN. 8ax Josk, Oal., Sept. 6, 1896. Dear Editor: As I saw so many letters in the Childhood’s Reslm I thought I would write also. Iam 12 yearsold and Iam in the high fifth grade. 1 go to the Longiellow School. My teacher’s name is Miss Parkman and the prineipal’s name is Mr. Brugh. Well Iguessl shall close for this time. From your constant reader, GRACE INGRAM. P.S, T hope you will publish this letter in next Sunday’s CALL. GRACE. HER WISH. My dear,” said papa one evening, As he sat with his child on his knee, *You have been & good girl to-day, dearie, As good as a girlie could be. Now I'll give you whatever you wish for, My dear, sweet, goug little girl.” He thought, of course, she would ask for A dollie with hair all acurl, Or perhaps a great bouncing doll, Or a little trunk painted all red, And go he was much surprised, you see, When gently and sweetly she said, With a smile as bright as the sunshine, A smile that a tather would miss: “Please, papa, I'd like it, dear paps, 11 you'd give me a great big kiss.” R. MAUD MALLORY. REEDLEY, CAL., Sept. 7, 1896. Dear Edttor: 1 have written to you before, but I write now to tell you of the happiest day of my vacation, which I think was one day last July. Ihad been wanting-a lawn party very much for a long time, and mamma prom- ised me that I might have it that (Monday) night, and while I was just in the midst of the pleasure of anticipation, here came THE CaLL containing my first printed siory, “Mina’ How delighted I was. Ibada nice time at the party. We had apples, cake and lemonade for refreshments. Thanks to Eva Navone for complimenting my story. I am always looking for a story or letter from her. 3 1 have written quite 2 number of stories. and s few pleces of poeiry, oneof each of which I send you. Hoping to see them and my leiter in print, I em your loving friend, - R. MAUD MALLORY. Los ANGELES, Sept. 9, 1896, Dear Editor: Tam s liitle boy neariy 7 years old. I have three sisters, whose name e Rosa, May and Bertha. I go to school and can read a little of your paper. My mamma and papa like your paper. I think THE CaLL is the best paper. Iwould like to see my let- ter in your Sunday paper. ARTHUR COHEN. KiNe CITY, Cal,, Sept. 9, 1896. Dear Editor: This is my first letter to THE CALL. My papa has taken your paper for many the remembrance of it; and if the fishes devour it, God will remember 1t. years,and he likes 1t better than any other, 1go to the Campbell District School, and the nsme = SRR s \; NOT A CLEVER BOY. An original caricature drawing by Stanley Crichton of San dose, aged 18 years.