The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 22, 1896, Page 24

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1896. Chaflkjg"""flg Hymn } oy (I:a\('foyn('a. Our forefathers gave thanks to God In theland of the stormy see, For bread hard wrung from the iron sod In cold &: d misery, Though every day meant tofl and strife, i In the lanc, by the stormy ses, They thaunked their God for the gift of life— How much the more should we! Stern frost nad they, full many a day sea, | v ciouds hung low, Long months of snow, And a cold wind endl 5 Winter, and war with an alien race, £ But they were elive and free! { Acd they thanked their God for his good | grace— How much the more should we! | | For we have a land all sunny with gold, . | A land by & summer sea; Gold in the earth for our hands to hold, Gold in blossom and tree; Comfort and plenty and beauty and peace From the mountains down to the sea! They thanked their Ged for s year's increase— How much the more should we! CHARLOTTE PERKINS STETSON. T g “What elorious times f0.ks used to have | at Thanksgiv ng!”’ “Yes, and I wish it would snow here so we might have sleighing!”’ “On, so do I! and that our mothers | wou'd bake roouies for days and days be- forehand and load the pantry shelves with | mince pies and doughnuts and tarts and | evervthing nice!” *Yes, and have great biz barns filled | with fragrant bay piles, of golden pump- | kins on the floor and the bins overflowing | with rosy ap 2, “Don’t forget the attics, girls, hunv with strings of sweet-smelling berbs and | trunks packed full of lovely brocaded | gowns, exquisite fans and soft furs! sure to be overhauled at Thanksgiving time!” | *And the kitchens, with their immense | fireplaces in which great logs blazed and crackled I” “Oh, dear, 1t’s just like a fairy tale; but we can't have any fun here at all”’ The above conversation was indulged in by a group of young girls under my win- dow the other dayv. What do you think | of it? Can you imagine any oue not being | happy this glorious Thanksgiving season | here under Caiifornia’s blue, blue skies, surrounded by green fields and fragrant flowers, the markets full of rarest fruits | and most crisp of vegetabies—all sure of | the dear old-fashioned turkey ainner, too? | I'm sure all my boys and girls, mem- bers of C. R. C., are thankful for their homes on California’s sunny shores, thankful for the love that surrounds them, for their health, for their power to enjoy, | thankful just to be alive. I also feel certain that not one of you | will sit down to your own Thanksgiving feast without having first helped some one who is less fortunate than yourself to enjoy this beautifu! holiday season. | e P . . Chanksgloing dinner. | BY LAURA GARLAND CARR. Old Farmer Humpkins gathered his pumpking Into a heap by the banks of a river. Chanticleer Dorkin - tha way wasstalking Like a drum-major, with plumes all a-quiver. Through corn-stalk thickets, scaring the crickets, Tweuty fine biddlcs were following after; Scratching aiscreetly, picking bugs nea ly, While all the chickadees tittered with laughter. Lofty steps taking, red cres a-shaking, Tall-feather pennons bi hind him a-fiying, Chanticleer Dorking came in his walking Where, by theriver, the pumpxins were lylng. “Ho!’ said he, swelling, “this is worth telling! Nothing more grand hes bee: mencioned in story. You must agree, dears, no bird but me, d. ars, E’er had a golden .hrone raised to his glory " | killed to-morrow.” | she found only four eggs. Each hen and chicken paused in its picking, Watching their chief while he made his ascension, Baw his neck curvin:, saw his forn) swerving, ‘While his broad wizgs flapped a call for attention. ©One note was soun 'ed—all stood astounded ! E very bright pumpkin was taking to motion! Slipping and sliding, roliing and ziiiing, Chanticleer flopping in wildes: emotion! ‘With a quick totter into the water One pumpkin rolled with old Chantle on top 1t Bobbing and tipping, plunging and dipping, Lgwnward it floated with 1o one to stop it! “ Cut, cut, ca-dah-cut! Cut, cut, ca-dah-cut " 01d bens and chickens were shrieking together; Helplessly staring, clinging, despalring, Chantie salled off in the bright autumn weather. By the stone ridges, where the old bridge is, Two ragged ur_hins their chipboats were sailing, ‘When, ronud the corner, sad with dishonor, Chant and hus pumpkin-boat came Wwithin hail- ing. One cried, “A steamer! with smokestack and sireamer! No—as I live, ’us & rooster out boating! A Thanksgiving dinner! Ill be the winner! Isn"t it jolly when chickens go boatiug " Bare feet went plashing, long sticks went splash- ing. Minnows went darting in wild consternation! Twirling and slipping, araggled and dripping, Vessel and carzo were brought to a station! “Here he is! take him! mother will ba-e him! T'li get the prmpkin and come along afrer!” Home they went proudly, Chant erying loudly, While all the chickadees tiitered with lavghter. Prosy’s Chankggiving. It was three days before Thanksgiving, and Prudy sat on the steps counting the turkeys. There were thirteen, and twelve of them were to be soid that afiernoon and the other was to be cooked for their Thanksgivine dinner. ‘‘What a shame,’”” thought Prudy, ‘‘to kill a turkey to eat,” and she went up to the turkey and hugged it. Prudy was a little girl who lived near Los Angeles with her aunt, who was very cross to her. “Prudy,” said her aunt oneday, “I want you to go over to Miss Brown’s and get | some sugar for me. Now, be quick and don’t play on the way.” Prudy got the sugar, returned home and was sent to bea, although the sun was high in the sky. Prudy lay thinking for a while, when all at once she thought: “Why, it will be Thanksgiving day after to-morrow. Poor turkey! Iknow what I will do; I willgo out and tell the turkey that he will be killed ‘or our Thanksgiving dinner.” She dressed quickly and went to the chicken- house. Sue opened the door and looked in. All was dark, and she could just see the outline of the turkey. She wen: np to it and whispered, “You are going to be She huriied out, and presently it came across her mind that she had left her coat in the barn. She knew ber aunt woud punish her if she knew what she had done, so she ran out to the barn again. In the distance she could see the gleaming eyes of the rats and mics. She climbed up in the loft and stretched out her hand for her coat, when she heard voices in the barn below. She tried to listen, but could not bear, and she was so tired that she fell asleep on the hay. She dreamed that the turkey ran away, and was thus saved from losing his nead. About 1 o’clock in the morning she awoke with a start, rubbed her eyes and hurried to her room, where she was soon soundly asleep in her own bed. In the morning when she went down- stairs her aunt said: *‘Prue, did you see the turkey this morning? It is gone.” And Prudy answered, ‘‘No, ma’am.” She washed the dishes, and then her aunt sent her to the barn to hunt eggs. There she saw a hen standing on a barrel, but Just then she heard her aunt say: *“Yes, there were thirteen turkeys, and I sold them all but one. Ikept the thirteenth one -tbe un- lucky one, and now it is gone.” “I wonder,” said Prudy to herself, “if it went because I told it that it would be killed.” Prue was kept busy all that day and her aunt was very cross. *“When you have finished picking those raisins turn the li. ht low and go to bed,”” her aunt said. *“I am going overto see a neighbor. When you go upstairs take these herbs to the attic.” Prudy was only a little girl, so no wor- der she was afraid to be in the house alone; and then she had to go up to the attic, where she was afraid to go even in the daytime. She took the herbs, lighted the candle and walked up the stairs. Sae could see her shadow on the wall and the squeaking of the stairs made ber nervous. She opened the door of the attic a litile way, but she quickly jumped back, for in the dark she could see a pair of eyes gleaming. She aropped the candle and flew down the stairs. Just then her aunt came in. “I told you to go to-bed, child, What’s the matter with you? You look like a ghost.” Prucy told her aunt what had happened and she took the poker and climbed the stairs. She threw open the door and looked in, and lo and behold, the lost tur- key came toward her. 1t had watched its chance and had followed Prudy upstairs the night she had gone out to the barn. “I wonder,” said her aunt, “how that turkey got up here. I will kill it to- morrow aud we will have it for dinner.” Just as her aunt had said, the poor tur- key was killed and they had it for their dinuver, with cranberry sauce, mince pies and ali the other good things that 80 with a Thanksgiving feast. Prudy did not eat any of the turkey, and ber aunt asked her what the matter was. Prudy asked her aunt *4f it was not wrong to kill a turkey to eat.” Her aunt’s heart was touched and she told Prudy that God had said that we should use poultry for food. Then Prudy ate some of the turkey anda 1t tastea s0 good that she thought she had never had a happier time in her little life and she clasped her hands with joy. That night her aunt pressed a kiss on Prudy's rosy lips. GRACE PARSONS. doe Little-White- Hawk By Helen E. Huntington [FROM GOLDEN DAYS.] [Continued from last Sunday.] With a joyful shout Dot sprang into Joe's arms, all drenched as he was, and he stooped to caress her, holding her at arm’ length from his wet coat. ““When he looked up his bright, dark eyes were moist with tears. *‘We would have called mother, but he but & warning hand to his lips. * ‘Wait,’ he said. *You have company, haven’t you?' “Mother was much surprised when she saw him and welcomed him warmly. “‘Just let me stay for to-night? he asked, humbly. ‘I'll sleep anvwhere— right here before the kitchen fire? May e **‘Of course you may, Joe. You are al- ways welcome at our hearth.” “He came directiy from the mines he said. ‘While he sat drying his clothing it occurred to me that he might have heard of the latest and most valuable acquisition 1o our gold dust treasure. “I was distrustful of him, especially as he had-so cautiously avoided been seen or heard by our guests of the night. Evi- dently he had watched his opportunity to come in unobserved. I determined to watch his movements closely, and, 1f my fears came true, arouse mother only, for she was a brave woman—braver, I think, than many a strong man. “With such thoughts I went to bed. Soon all was still. I heard the clock strike ten, and with the last stroke Harry’s reg- ular breathing' lengthened into a cheerful snore. But I grew more and more wake- ful as a possible outline of Joe's plans passed through my brain. He knew his way about the house perfectly. 1t would be an easy matter to help himself to as much -old as he could conveniently carry about his person,and leave by the kitchen door without making the slizhtest noise, I grew restless and nervous and fancied I heard stealthy footsteps through the roar of the tempest. “Finally I rose, dressed, and slipped “One night, in the midst of a howling storm of raiu and sleet, some one knocked loudly at our cabin door, and as I opened | it two women stepped in, drenched to the «sin. They asked shelter for the ni ht, which mother cheerfully granted on see- in the r sorry plight. While we boys re- plenished the fire mother spread their dripping garments to dry and prepared a simple meal for their refre hment. “They had strange, rongh faces and gaunt figures. The younger was very tall | ind thin, with hard, sharp features, dark, seather-beaten complexion and wisps of straight black hair straggling over her forehead. The elder had a deep scar across her sunken cheek, and was, if pos- sible, of more'uncomely appearance. ** ‘It is very wet weather,’ she remarked, in a voice that suited such a physigue. ‘I woult not have started outin such a storm, only I've got a sick daughter at Bramble- ton, seven miles below here—Mrs. Bently she is. Do you know her?' “Mother replied that as distances were 8o great between the squatters’ houses she rarely visited her neighbors, and therefore had not met Mrs. Bently. “Dot appeared at the kitchen door in wide-eved wonder while they were talking. The elder woman stopped in the midst of alengthy explanation and smiled atthe pretty child. *‘Come here,” she coaxed, but Dot shrank back in affright. 'Afraid, ain’t you? What makes folks afraid of us, Nancy? she asked, in rough st. . jfiI:Isr daughter ‘made no answer, but smiled a forced, unlovely smile. “‘When you are thoroughly dry and warm I’ll show you your room,’ mother said, as they pusbed away their empty coffee cups. ‘“‘And with that she took them to Joe's vacant room in the rear of the cabin. “*I don’t like them,’ said Harry, as soon as they were well out of hearing, ‘and 1 don’t believe mother does. What do you say, Peter? Do you think they came here for any good purpose?’ **‘Pshaw! a couple of women,’ I an- swered, in fine scorn. ‘What could they do? ©‘They could look around and make their plans, anyhow. What is that? he claimed, suddenly starting up. ‘Some one D@)\n@ficr%flc . empflng,fififalgmg oJorsOn appy bustle and confusion @P\fl The Uncles , Qunts | s i gl }Qflh ad kindred sfi'omrg d%r/nrgwlgm Smgmg m the church Tooelher 4y o : opdies , then , till even’ The child%me én the halway after into the narrow hall leading past my the ar, Gverywhere. , and_“Cousins Far ns Ty acart voams. wih .sun;hmé_ : @ymocmf cfelgwt and mt a heat bt 1 £ pEl %) COoMPANION mother’s foom to the kitchen. At the door I paused, and hearing no souna within, my curiosity prompted me to do what I's oulu be ashamed to tell you of even now—to stoop and look through the kevhbole. “What 1 saw proved to me that my fears were not groundless, for Joe kneit before whe faintly glowing embers examining a pair of pistols that gleamed in the flicker- ing light like silver. My heart gave a great, painful bound of fear, then stopped beating so long that I felt as if Ishould choke. “My first impulse was to go back and Touse mother; but while I was thinking of it he rose and with the «oft, catlike tread peculiar to his race crossed the room to the very door before which I knelt. ".I shrunk back against the wall, and waited until he came out and passed me silently as a snadow; but before I conld move with safety he was back and had closed the door after him. I saw him move the little table which concealed the trapdoor of the cellar, and finding it locked, replace it carefully. i3 I then conceived the idea of taking bim prisoner in the cellar when he de- scended; but it was not yet time for me to appear. Evidently he was not yet quite ready to begin operations, for he went about his operations in ghostly quiet. e darkened the room by smothering the em- bers with ashes and closing all the draits of the stove, then withdrew into the shadow beyond my narrow range of ob- servation, ‘I could not explain to myself his rea- son for so doing, unless he,was waiting for an accomplice. But just then some- thing stirred in the hall behind me, and that m ysterious, nameless intuition we all Ppossess told me that some living creature was approaching. > “‘No use making a fuss if you don't bave to,” a husky voice whispered, close beside me, ““*Hush!” came the auswer, in a gruff undertone, which I recognized immedi- ately as belonging to the eider woman. *They brusiied past me and tiptoed into the kitchen, bolting the door after them, “‘The whole thing is as easy as rolling off alog,” one of them said with a coarse tapped at the window.’ **Who's there?’ I cailed, loudly. **Joe,’ came the reply, barely audible through the fierce howl of the tempest. “Iopened the door in trembling haste. laugh. ‘By Jjiminy! it's the easiest job T've had hold of for a year!’ “‘She flashed a dark lantern on the trap- door and kuelt down to open it. The lock broke under her powerful wrench as if it g é’;nouéh 1” ;&%”mnifig ] t - iler The L xl:.ld been made of glassinstead of wrought on. ‘‘ ‘Hold the light till Igetdown,’ she said, handing it to her companion as she began to descend the cellar steps, and soon disappearing from view. ‘“The other woman leaned very faroveras shepeered aiter her companion, and at that moment a slender ficure bounded out of the gloom with a single catiike I ap and pushed her head first into the celiar; then quickly closing the trapdoor planted his weight firmly on it. “‘That aroused me. ‘Open the door!’ I cried excitedly. ‘It is 1—Peter!’ 1t was the work of an instant, but even that in- stent’s delay was perilous—for no sooner had we reached the door than a hand tried to pusn it open, but oar united weight made all effort vain. “There was no possibility of escape. The cellar was deep; the masonry about it was built thick enough to keep out the bitter cold of a Colorado winter. Little good the gold would do them while we held them captive in that prison. *“‘Well, children, I will never forget that night. It had the exciting flavor of ad- venture that fires the blood to fever heat. I think at first I imagined that I had had aband in tue capture, but when ail was over I realized that all the glory belonged to Joe. “Mother rose on hearing us, and stayed with us till early dawn, then sent me to the mines after father, and on our way home we stopped in the village for two officers of the law. “Under the circumstances, nothing could b done with the prison:rs. We had évery reason to believe they were armed to the teeth, and to try to go down to them meant ceriain death. The officers carried on a conversation with them, but they refused to surrender undar any con- dition. 8o there was notbing to do but to starve them out, much as mother objected to such very cruel measures. “In the meantime, Joe told us what he b ad cay, knew of them. They were, of course, dis- guised men. They had worked in the mines a sufficient length of time to find out what they wanted to know. Joe had overheard enough of a conversation to understand their plans, and when they started out on their evil errand that night he followed. The rest you know. “One whole day passed withouta word from the prisoners, but on the third morn- ing one of them admitted his willingness to come out, and the trapdoor was opened. “‘The officers stood well back out of range of a possible shot, and as the haggard face of the elder man appeared leveled their revolvers squarely at him. “Throw up your arms!” manded. “He did so. The younger man followed without hesitation. ‘“‘Racine and Wells!” the officer ex- claimed, looking them over sharply. “Joe,’ he said, addressing our good-Indian friend, after the prisoners were secared, ‘there is a Government reward out for the capture of Racine—five hundred doliars. “It’s yours, my boy; you've earned it well.”” “Is that all?’ Ned asked, drawing a deep breath of expectation as Uncle Peter paused. “What became of Joe?” Julian ques- tioned. *‘He continued to work for father at the mines until they were abandoned, a year later, waen Joe went to a school in a litile settlement twenty miles up the river. We saw him as often as he could make the long, hard trip to our home, until trouble came up between the Blackfcot Indians and the settlers, when we left Coloraio and lost track of him. I have not forgot- ten him. Sometimes [ think I'll meet him in my travels out West.” *And where is Dot ?’* Cicely asked. *‘All the world may change,” Uncle Pe- ter answered, ‘“‘but Dot will not. She will always be our little, golden-haired, bright- eyed girl of six, for she died in Colorado more than iwenty years ago. Joe used to put fresh flowers on her grave every time ne came to see us after she died, for he loved herdeeply: and I know if he still lives in Colorado he sometimes visits the little green mound at the foot of Sandy Mountain.” Hojf"ta\ oy Aq}'h\al g Harper’s Round Table tells its readers they com- something about a hospital for wild and tame Deasts. A great deal of the hospital’s most in- teresting practice is among the animals kept in the Zoological Gardens or in traveling shows. An old circus lion was brought here not long ago to have his ulcerated tooth pulled. Now, if the toothuche makes you feel as‘‘crossas a bear,” how cross does the toothache make a live lion feel? To tell the truth, no one at the hospital wanted to know how cross that lion dia feel—they thought it was a case in which it wouid be fally to be wise. The first thing to be done was to drop noouses of rope on the floor of his cage, and then draw them up when he put his foot in one—he knew he had “put his foot in it”’ when he found himself snared—and so, step by step, get him bound helpless. If you will think how particulariy hard it is to tie up a cat, you may guess that it is no Jjoke to make a lion fast; he is just like a stupendous cat in his agility and shpperi- ness. The only way to render him belp- less is to get bis hind auarters tied up ouiside his cage, and his head bound fast within it; the next thing, for dental work, isto puta gag in his mouth; that is the easier because there is no troubie at all about getting bim to open his mouth—he does it every time any one goes near him. When they have these beasts of the jungle at the hospital their keepers have to stay with them; but even then they can’t always prevent mischie?. A baby elepbant from a big circus was about the most disorderly patient they ever had there, though, in spite of her naugh .iness, she became quite a pet with everybody about. She had a cold and the sniffles when she came, and was subdued and patient, just like some children when they are sick; but as she got better she almost pulled the whole place down in her efforts to get something to play with. She reached out of her stall and took a large office clock off the wall. No one had sup- vosed she could reach it, and she had broken it to what her keeper called smithereens before he could stop her. If she could find a crack anywhere, destruc- tion began; if it was in the plaster, the plaster was ripped off; if between boards, up came a board. But the baby was not so likely as some of her grown-up relatives to knock down the side of the house and walk out, which is an occurrence always possible when you have an elephant come to see you. Elephants are poor sailors; they get dreadfully seasick, and often when they are just landed they are brought to the hospital to recuperate. Gin is the great remedy 1n that case; they particularly love gin, and all their medicine is usually given to them in gin. When medicine cannot be given dis- guised in drink or food, it is usually tqueezed down the patient’s throat with a syringe. The horses are very good about that operaiion, but the dogs are often troublesome at first; but both dogs and horses soon learn that they are with frienas, and then they are wonderfuliy good and grateful even when the doctors have to hurt them. An Incipient Humorist. Tommy—Mamie, do you know why this dog is 'ike me? Mumje—Because he is a little puppy ? Tommy—No; he’s got short pants.—Texas Biftings. lenis it Penj-('w. Dces homesickness tend to induce a philosophical view of things? Not in most cases, but perhaps there are excep- tions. A youngster was sent to a boarding- school ana did not much fancy the change, says Tit-Bits. On the second or third day he wrote home thus: Dear Father: Life is very short. Let us spend it together. Your affectionate son, CHRISTOPHER. fl;hmkjg@—ém let'ne Cheery hearts and smiling faces, Gentle speech and ways, Make a cloudy, dull Thanksgiving Sunniest of days. 8Ax FraNcisco, Nov. 14, 1896. Dear Editor: This is my first letter to Tur Carr. Ilike 0 80 to school.” I am 8 vears old. Ilive at 828 Howard street. Iread my book, “Beauty and the Beast.” 1 like story-books. I am anxjous to read the paper. Yours re- spectiully, * _ADOLFH JERICHAM. OAKLAND, Nov. 6, 1896. Dear Editor: Iama little boy, 11 years old. My mamma takes THE CALL,and we like it very much. Iread the children’s page every Sunday morning, and I feel interested init; so Ithought I would write you a letter. I hope you will publish it. I shall close for to-day. Your new friend, LEO MAYER. 2 C1ty, Nov. 11, 1896. Dear Editor: 1am a little girl, 11 years old and Iam in the fourth grade in the St. Boni- face School. I have a little pup, which I have named Prince. He is very fond of me. My uncle has taken THE CALL for the last seven vears. Iread the children’s page every Sun- day. Now I will close my ietter, and remain, your everlasting reader, LoulsA BRUCKNER. Dear Editor: I take pleasure inreaftingyour Childhood’s Realm snd also answering the puzzles. My dear grandmother was a sub- scriber to your valuable paper when'it was first published in this City—that was many years ago. I am 11 yearsand 2 months old and a na‘ive daughter ot our Goiden State. Yours truly, ALMA SEA. 'Sax Fraxcisco, Nov. 12, 1896, Dear Editor: As 1 have been reading the children’s page I thought I would write vou a letter. Iam 10 years old and go to St. Peter’s School. I am . in the fifth grade. Thereisa park near my house, and every day we have 1o school mamma packs up our lunch and we spend the day over at the park. Your friend, ALICE MCDONNELL. CASTROVILLE, Cai., Nov. 11, 1896. Dear Editor: Iam a little girl 11 years old and a constant reader of Childhood’s Realra. Ithought I would write and see if my letter would escape the wastebasket. I have a sister named Lizzie. I have two pets, a dog nm? I go to the Possum and & pony named Susie. 0 Castroville public school. My teacher’ S‘IJBH;I: is Mr. Bennett. I hope to see my letter Sundey’s CALL. DeLpHINA FELIZ. SN Fraxcisco, Nov. 17, 1896; Dear Editor: 1am alittle 18 years of 3 2 1 go to the Douglass School. Iam in the thir grade, This is my first letter to THE CALL. My papa is a corporal of police. We have been teking THE CALL for a long ume.. I enjoy reading the boys’ and girls’ page. We had two little cats, but the boy next door drowned on'e of them. I hope to see my letier in Sunday’s CaLL. Your new reader, LizziE GLEESON. ALAMEDA, Cal., Nov. 13, 1896. Dear Fditor: 1am a little girl, 10 years old. We have taken THE CALL for & greatmany vears. Ilike toread the Children’s Page very much. Mamma and some other iadies are go- ing to have a_home for homeless children in Alameda. They are going to have a bazaar at our house to_raise money to startit. All are welcome to come. Hoping to see my letter in priat, I remain, your little reader, Rosk voxN Scuyipr, C. R. C. SAN Josk, Cal, Nov. 9, 1896, Dear Editor: I have been trying to make out some of the puzzles this afternoon and have found out No.7. The name of the great man is Benjamin Franklin. Last month we re- ceived a campaign hat with Major McKinley onone sideand Mr. Bryan on the other. I turned mine with the McKinley side out, be- cause I wanted McKinley to be our President. I have the sweetest iittle baby sister, 3 weeks old. Iwish you would put this letter in next Sunday’s CALL. Good-by. GRACIE BURKE. BLUE CANYON, Cal.Nov. 12, 1896. Dear Editor: 1 thoughtIwould writé a few lines to you and I hope this letter will be in next Sunday’s CALL. Isolved all the puzzles but the eighth, which I could notget. The puzzlé which I sent in last week was original. I was somewhat disappointed because it was not printed, hut I suppose there was no room or something eise was the matter,so I won't sey any more about it. Ishall tell you about my pet, which is a dear little cat. It is black and white spotted and is very nice. It will eat popcorn and olives and many other things. Atevening when he thinks it is time for v children to go to bed he will walk through honse three or four times and will scold ax be so impatient, because he wants us to hurrf and go 10 bed so he can go to us. Mammalets him stay with us until she wishes to go to bed and then she takes bim out to the shed where his little bed isin a basket. Mamma covers him up and he stays thereall night. When he wants to go out of the house or to come in he whines, jumps up to the door and tries to open it himse!f. He is only seven months old and I think is very smart. Thisisalllcan write this time, so Ishall close, hoping to see my letter in next Sunday’s CALL. Your little reader, RETHA WALDAU. PESCADERO, Nov. 10, 1896. Dear Editor: As 1 have seen so many letters from boys and gir!s in “Childhood’s Realm,” I thought I wouid write too. Iam 10 years old. I like the idea of having a “Chi'dhood’s Realm Ciub’’ very much. I have read the “‘Childhood’s Realm’ ever since there has been oae, and can well remember when there were but one or two stories in it. I shall write a story for the children’s page. Now I shall close as my letter is getting long. Your little friend, ALMA M. WEEKS. SIERRA CITY, Cal., Nov. 18, 1896. Dear Editor: Ihave written you two letters, so I will write anofher. My brother has got some chickens, and two full-grown hogs, a squirrel about 4 years old. He was about a year old when my brother caught him. I nave & great many books which I iike toread. I take more interest in books than anything else. The school hassome new libraries which I think are fine, as I have read a good many of them. Isend you some answers to the puzzles Ihave solved. Your friend, THEODORE J00s, C. R. C. ———— 7 1. Addition. (a) Add five to a female relation and makesa boast. (3) Add five toa chill and make something uncertain. Lizzig E. JOHNSON, C. R. C. I1. Hidden birds (by Lillie Maskow, C. R. C), (a) L was at the window last night. () Isaw her on Monday. III. (a) Hogs wallow in mud. (b) Seth rushed from the house. Iv. ENIGMA. My 2,7,13, 11, 9 is to store away. My 6, 8, 14, 5 is to possess. My 1, 4, 3, 15, 12, 10 are tracts or regions. My whole is something you enjoy reading. ELLA R. HARTNELL, C. B, €. V. Geographical acrostic. An island in the Indian Ocean. A gulf of Europa. A country of Asia. A sea of Europe. A country of South America. A State in the United States. Their initial letters spell a peninsula of Europe. ALICE BELL, C. R. C. VL Pi. Name of meruber oi C. R. C. Werefdtoitarneaotn. VIL Hidden namé of a contributor. Ye do'vile hen. T. Joos, C. R. C. VIIL Why is getting up early apt to make one cross? Neruie H. PETERS, C. R. C, ELLA R. HARTNELL, C. R. C. e Gorrect Answers. L Turkey. II. shilling. IIL. Because it's between two i's (eyes). IV. William McKinley. V. Suuday Call. VI. Least said socnest mended. VII. Devilish—dish—evil. VILL. Water. Because it contains so many muscles. IX. Because she has a crown. X. (a) Chili. (b) Capes. XI. Egg. XIL Horse—goat. XIIL John oooe nome need. AN Letters Received. Besides letters published, pleasant come munications have been received from the young friends whose names follow: Mabel C, Mecchi, Beth Johnstone. Irene Brandon, Edith Canbu, Antoinette Crawford, Ethel Ferguson, Francis Laplace, Alice W. Upton, H. R., Gerda Hendrickson, Christian W. Vanderveen, Willie Lyons, Willle Kirby, Paul Peters, Irene C. Suliivan, Oiive Bruning and Bessie McMahor. ISt Answers to Puzzles, Correct answers to puzzles of November 8 have been recelved from Alma Sew, Mary Cor- rick, Retta Waldron (C. R. C.) and Alice Mc- Donneil; for November 15 from Eila B. Hart- nell (C. R. C.), Ida Wightman, Alice Bell, C. R. C.), Wiliiam Sea, unsigned list from Port land and Max Satig (C. R. C.)