The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 27, 1896, Page 24

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, DECEMBER 27, 1896. “DO COME AND PLAY—THIS IS ‘ MERRY CHRISTMAS’!”’—From Time. FTER the merry Christmas time come e hapoy New Year, and that it may 1 be a happy one to you is the of your editor. Not that your 2y idly drift o’er calm, sunl ; but that you may have courage storm, aud then, when & con- d, your days will be filled with that comes alone from work bpiness of you remember the little story I year about the month of Janu- ¢ of you would write it for me it in real early, 50 we may next page. By Fronie Abbott. ‘Oh, mamma, come here and see What Santa Ciaus has done. S0 many, many toys, 1d so: boy’s got none.” tle voice rang out, %o full of joy and glee. He thought, How good To brother Will and m e are two almost alike; This ¢ 1 give to Tim. T'll nevor miss it from mv lot, ure it will please him. h on know, mamma; e is dead. papers on the street, 1 searcel, ¥ earns his bread. give him just this one, I well can spare; 2 of nuts, and candy, too, With poor little Tim I'il snare.” 1, each little boy and girl 15t one toy, 1 pray, ke gome sad heartgiad 1 this joyful Christmas day. nd remember, my dear little friends, 1 things in charity given recorded in big golden Jetters, y our Father who is in heaven. il The Light- KeePer’ gy Ben. A Story of Gape Hurricane. A long, narrow strip of land belonging to the Canadian Government and jutting out into the Gulf of St. Lawrence was at the time I write of known by the appro- priate title of Cape Hurricane. On account of the dangerous condition of the coast a magnificent lighthouse had been built at the extreme point of the cape and hard by stood the cottage of the keeper, an old seafaring man named Samuel Johnstone. Besides two daughters he had four sons, the youngest of whom Hale, aged four- teen years, is the hero of my story. One day in the early part of September the boys and girls with the exception of Haie drove about ten miles inland for the purpose of being present at a wedding the same evening. Samuel Johnstone, who was a widower, was consequently teft alone with his little son. As night approached the former per- ceived, with some anxiety, that the sky was overcast by heavy clouds; that a cold, wet wind was blowing from the north and the experienced mariner at once concluded that a great storm was impending. “Hale,”” he said, enterinz the cottsge and addressing the bov, who was reading | | | by the open fireplace, ‘‘run down to the covs and pull up your skiff high and dry. | You'll never sail the little Sea Gull agan if to-night’s storm strikes her.” “All right, father,” the boy replied, with alacrity, for he would not lose his swift and beautiful little pleasure-boat for the world. “I'll take care of the Sea Gull. Will you light the lamp?” s. Hurry up, my boy, for the storm is breaking already. God help those at sea to-nizht! The wreckers will be happy in the morning.” It may be well to remark here that along the barren shores of Caps Hurricane were | scattered the cabins oi fugitive Indians, outcasts from their tribes, and here and there might be scen the shanty of some | fisherman, who could also act the roles of smuggler and wrecker when occasion re. quired. Hale found his task of placing the Sea Gull beyond danger more difficult than he imagined. Hence, it was some time before he was ready to return to the cottage, and when he turned his steps in that direction the wind was howling dismally, were already lashed into a fury, and the spray from the rocks dashed over the boy, drenching him to the skin. The lightbouse lamp, constructed on the revolving plan, now flashed its radi- ance througn the intense darkness of the night, at intervals of a minute’s duration. I love a lighthouse, whether glistening white and beautiful, kissed by the purling ripples of a gentle sea, and batned in the golden sunshine of a summer day, or standing firm and invincible, lashed by | the angry surge, breasting the tempest’s | wrath, and lifting its fire-crowned heaa into the black, thundering midnight sky. To me it 1sat once an emblem of the in- finite peace which accompanies virtue, and of the grand, sublime courage which re- sists temptation. Hale stopved suddenly with an excla- mation of surprise and fear as he ap- proached the cottage. Something had happened which made the boy’s blood run cold, and drove the ruddy color from his healthy face. He crept up to the window and looked in. One glance and he understood all. Four wreckers, awkwardly disguised with masks of canvas, had captured and bound the keeper, wresting from him at the same time the great iron key of thelighthouse. These men, for the sake of the booty cast up by the hungry, merciless waves, intended to sacrifice hundreds of human lives. A thrill of horror ran through the boy’s frame as he thought of the enormity of the crime that these men were about to commit. A cold perspiration broke over his brow, and he trembled like a leaf. He crouched down in the shadows un- der the window-sill, and in a few seconds had regained his presence of mind. His father was helpless. It was his duty to act—to outwit these men—to save hun- dreds ot lives now at the mercy of the wreckers. Hale had npt long to wait. Two men were left to guard the prostrate form of old Samuel Johnstone, while two others cautiously left the cottage and ran swiftly toward the lighthouse. They turned the key in the lock and both entered. The next instant Hale had followed them. The storm was raging fiercely. At in- tervals lightning qrivered through the sky, and rolling thuander seemed to shake the very battlements of heaven, The wind howled like a savage monster in search of prey, and flung foam-crested waves upon the beach, like packs of yeiping wolves the waves | commry : ods . 2 i H H 2 3 whose white fongs glittered through the | darkness. Hale quickly removed his shoes as he i gained the entrance to the lighthouse. The door was left open. He listened. Both men ascended the stairs. The boy’s | heart beat with great thumps against his | side as he felt for the key. | If he could secure it, it would be easy ; to lock the wreckers out when they came idowu, and then to repair what damage | they might have done to the lamp. But, | alas, the key was gone! For an instant Hale was confused and (disuppoin!ed, but it was not long before | be had contrived another plan, which he determined to put into execution. At all hazards he would follow the | wreckers to the top of the lizhthouse. Trusting to his perfect knowledge ot | every nook and cranny in' the premises, Hale, with the stealthy wmotion of a cat, | ascended the steep, narrow, winding stairs, For the first time in hie experience they creaked beneath his weight. Up, up he went, every slight noize send- ng a thrill of terror through his frame; up past loopholes, which now admitted | nosingle ray of light; up, until the sec- i ond last round was very nearly completed, | | and then he stopped. What was it that made him shiver as though afflicted with an ague? What | cauded him to crouch down in the inky | darkness, scarcely three feet from the bot- | tem of the last rickety flight of stairs? | He held his breath and listened. Despite | the fearful roaring of the tempest without, Hale distinctly heard the low murmaur of voices, and the loud, echoing sound of descending footsteps. He recognized the wreckers. One was | an Indian, the other Miles Parker, a white | man, and both suspicious and dangerous characters, | *"“Ugh!” exclaimed the | paused on the last step. | noise! Sh!" The sharp-eared Indian had detected the almost suvpressed breathing ot Hale. | Tue brave boy never moved a muscle, but the beating of his heart was painful 1n former, as he “*Me hear um with fatigue; but he never flinched—he stood with invincible determination at his post of duty, saving by Lis exertions the property of anxious merchants and the lives of.storm-tossed mariners. And when the anger of the storm sub- sided and the sun rose in the east, flinzing its glorious radiance over the sparkling waters of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, it tlashed brigntly on the sails of many ships, which, but for the heroism of a little boy, would have been shattered on the cruel rocks of Cape Hurricane. The wreckers, who had made. their es- cape before daylight, were afterward cap- tured and punished as they deserved to be—by imprisonment for a long term of years, When Hale, on descending from the lighthouse in the morning, releasea his father, the latter wept tears of joy in thanking heaven for so heroic and noble- hearted son. Later the little fellow received a bronee medal for heroism from the Government. Even to this day visitors to Cape Hurri- cane, hearing this story told, unite in ap- plauding the grand and noble deed and in calling down blessings upon the hero, Hale Johnstone, the lightkeeper’s son.—Golden Days. AP leaging m('_ftake. ‘When for the first time in her life She saw the snowflakes fall, She heid out her tiny apron, As if she would catch them all, She opened her eves in wonder, In wonder and glad surprise, Then ran guickly to her mother With sparkling and merry eyes, And cried, “Oh, mamma, please look out And see what's coming down— God is po},ping Christmas corn For all the boys and girls in town.” ADDIE F. BARTLEY. Esna’ i (Ehf(:s'tmzj Pée. By Hattic Whitney. “Little girls don’t seem to be good for much nowadays,’ said Uncle Grimbte, with a shake of his head that made his bright spectacles giitter and snap. *‘There was a time once when they used to know how to wash dishes and sweep floors and liked to learn about breadmaking and all that. But that time went out with can- dlesticks ana Dutch ovens, and if my nieces were big china dolls they’'d be about as much practical value and have quite as many ideas of how & pie is made. Wouldn’t they, Edna?” Edna, who was benevolently rocking the black kitten to sleep, stopped so sud- denly as to make Jet's bright yellow eyes pop oven in surprise. “Why, uncle,”’ she replied, “I never thought about making pies, ur—or any- thing of that kind. Aunt Roxy always | tends 10 that, you know. But I—I think Icould.” *“‘Ha, ba!” lauzhed Uncle Grimble, rather skeptically; ‘‘and so could Tilly, couldn’t she?”’ “I wouldn’t,” said Tilly, with a toss of her pert little head. “I don't want to know how to do that kird of things.”’ “Humph!’ answered Uncle Grimble. “It strikes me you want to eat, though.’§ ‘Tilly,” said Edna, that night, when the | that fearful moment. 0 wo were carefully and snugly tucked up BEFORE ? Two steps to one side and either one of lw the men would have tramped upon him | where he lay. Would they make a search? Would they strike a light ? “Go on, you coward,” said Parker, im- | | patiently. “There ain’t no human bein’ but them in the cottage within miles of us. Goon, Itell you!” Jgh! White man, him fool!” the In- dian answered, mnttering discontentedly as he passed downward. Parker followed, and soon their echoing footsteps died away in the distance, and Hale rose, with a prayer of thanksgiving on his lips, for the danger was past. Quickly he ran up the last flight of stairs, and one glance showed him all. The wreckers had not extinguished the lamp, but simply broken the revolving apparatus. In another lighthouse further down the coast the light was stationary. Pilots, therefore, would naturally mistake upon the rocks. The plan of the wreckers was perfect in its diabolical ingenuity and in its certainty of success. Hale, however, was equal to the occa- sion. Closing the heavy door of the little circular apartment ha bolted and barred it firmly. This was scarcely the work of a minute. Then, standing on a stool, he SLATE PICTURE FOR - BABY--TO DRAW. found—on, joy of jovs!—that he could reach the lamp, and move it easily with his hands—in fine, that he hymself could perform the work of the revolving ap- paratus. *‘One, two, three, four, five, six,” he counted, with the regularity of a clock, until he reached “sixty,” and then the brilliant light flashed out upon the dark- ness, and many a pilot, miles away upon the bosom of the stormy gulf, saw the well-known signal and steered his vessel | accor. ingly. It is scarcely necessary to relate how the infuriated wreckers, vowinz vengeance upon the person who had outwitted them, ran up the narrow stairway and flung themselves again and again upon the stout barrier which separated them from the heroic boy. - Suffice it to say that amid the howling of the storm, the curses, threats and pistol-shots of the baffled ruffians five feet away from him, Hale calmly and precisely continued counting the weary minutes of that long, terrible night. 5 Hisarmsached; hislimbs could scarcely one for the other, and run their ships | i “jump down now. tin bed by good, faithful black Aunt Roxy, their uncle's housekeeper, *'I believe I will try and learn io cook. Uncle wants us to.” ¢*Nonsense !” responded Tilly. I wouldn’t bother. Uncle’s an oid bachelor, ana Miss Smart says old bachelors are cranky and ave funny ideas.” “Idon’t believe it,” differed Kdna, *and my uncle’s good, anyway. He thinks lots of us, and we ought to try and please him."” But Tilly had nestled her head under the quilt, and was asleep by this time. “Oh, Uncle Grimble! Uncle Grimble! Guess what you're going to get fora Christ- mas present.” “Bless us!” exclaimed Uncle Grimble, ropping his newspaper as Edna danced in from the kitchen the day before Christmas with a warm odor of holiday goodies fol- lowing her. ‘“‘Whatever can it be?” “A pie!” said Edna, fluttering into an excited tiptoe jig—*'a pie that I'm going to make all mysell. I've been learning of Aunt Roxy, and now she says I can make one myself.” ‘“Just hear the child!” said Uncle Grim- ble, pulling off his spectacles and rubbing them briskly on his big red handkerchiei. “Does she really care enough for her old uncle 1o learn to make a pie expressly for bim?” ‘*Yes, indeed, uncle,’”” assured Edna, put- ting her plump arms around his neck and giving him a loving hug. *“You're the dearest, bestest uncle in the world!" ‘There,” said Uncle Grimble at last, T'm going to put on my great coat and go to town and see what I can find in the way of pretty things as presents—extra presents besides those Santa Claus brings, you know—for industrious little girls who learn to make pies.” Miss Tilly slid off the lounge where she had been engaged in the manufacture of a lock of paper chickens, and trotted for- ward with a little pout on her red lips. “I can make pies as good as Edna ca she said, shaking the curly brown locks out of her eyes. **Well done!"” commended Uncle Grim- ble. “This is encouraging, little girl. And now, to add still more interest to the occasion, suppose I offer a first premium— that is, a choice of presents to the one who gets up the best pie to-morrow, while the manufacturer of the second best gets the second choice. Hey?" ‘Iflppol‘l bim; he was almost overcome “All right,” assented Edna, while Tilly STREET CAROLERS. popped down on a cushion before the fire, with her feet doubled under her, and be- gan an energetic course of thinking. "The kitchen of Uncle Grimble's old- fashioned farmhouse was cheery to see and fragrant to smell, as preparaticns for to-morrow’s feast went briskly on under Aunt Roxy’s skillful fingers. And now, at last, the principal portion of the work was over, the big turkey sleeping his last brown savory sleep on the biue platter in the pantry, beside the great raisin-dotted plum pudding, two loaves of cake, out- lined tem ptingly under white-fringed nap- kins, and the biggest tin panful of jum- bles, cockies and crullers at the head of a long procession of mince and pumpkin pies. Everything was baked except a half- dozen or so tarts, and some fruit pies which had not vet received their upper crusts, for, having got them so far along, Aunt Roxy haa declared herself ‘‘plum guv out an’ not gwine to do nary stitch mo’ tell she had a smoke,” which ske was now enjoying beside the dining-room fire- piace. Edna’s great achievement—a wonderful currant pie, to the manufacture of which she had devoted the morning—stood in the window-sill, alone in its vlory, a deep bronze in hue, and neatly scalloped around the edge. It isn't so very fine, as I see, that Edna needed to make such a fuass over it,” said Tilly to herself, pausing beside it, and turning her scornful little nose up. *I don’t believe it’s so awful hard to muke a ple, anyhow, that a body has to spend a whole week learning how to put one to- gether, like Ednadid. 1 I could only just beat her, now!"” Here Miss Tilly’s gaze fell upon the row of uncompleted pies upon the table, which started a new train of thought. *I suppose Aunt Roxy could beat me or Edna, either one,” she went on, specula- tively. “Her dough looks nice. I won- der—. These pies aren’t half finished. If! I just took and borrowed some of Aunt Roxy's dough and finished one, it would be my pie, and would beat Edna, too. T'll take tLis nice, red-looking cherry pie. There’s so many more pies Aunt Roxy won’t miss it when she comes out, ard nobody’l! know about it, so it'll do just as well as if I made it all.” This line of reasoning, vou perceive, was not sound. It involved, besides the appro- vriating of Aunt Roxy’s work, deceit toward Uncle Grimbie, and injustice to Edna, whose pie, good or bad, was the re- sult of honest industry and study, and stood fair and square before the world, just what it pretended to be. “I'll make mine prettier than Edna’s, too,” said Tilly, as she whisked the half- finished pie, the rolling-pin and a piece of dough ‘“‘borrowed” from Aunt Roxy’s pan, into a far corner of tiie pantry. “I'll make it scallopier than Edna’s, and crinkle the edge around with the cake-cutter.’” “Bress de chile! Whar she git dat?’ asked Aunt Roxy, balt an hour after- ward, as Tilly came forth from the pantry, gravely bearing her highly ornamented pie, just ready for the oven. “Made it,” replied Tilly, triumphantly. “Is it as nice as yours, Aunt Roxy?” “Well, de law-law ! Aunt Roxy dropped upon a ch volling up her eyes in ad- miration. “Ef dat ain’t de beatin’est chile! Makin’ sich. a mighty fine-lookin’ pie ’dout no ’sperence! beat mine all tono whar!" “And so,’”” said Uncle Grimble, the next day, when the anxiously-looked-for time for the Christmas dinner dessert arrived, *‘my two little cooks have been industrious and actually made pies for their old uncle, who hasn’t yet lost his taste for geodies.” “Tilly’s is the nicest,” admitted Edna, with a little unsuppressible tone of regret; “but Aunt Roxy says some are natural- Ghe G"I’d("\sk‘ *“Milady,” Miss a la Mode, Goes mincing along the road ; Reckon hiv’ll Bhe's parfectly self-possessed, Knowing she up-to-date’s dressed. All else may go hang, From McKiniey to *‘Chang!”’ Ah, the themes of to-day In her brain have no play; Such brains, by the wa; Are not formed of the “clay.’ Shakespeare’s ‘‘porcelain kind,” : A rare, diamond mind! Banta Cruz. Itz born cooks and some aren’t. That must be the difference.” *The proof of the pudding is in the eat- ing,” remarked Uncle Grimble; ‘‘and the same may be said of pies. So we'll give both a fair trial before we decide.” And here Uncle Grimble took a good sized bite of Tilly’s pie, and immediately shut one eye and squinted the other up fearfully. “Tilly,” he said, “it's sour enough to make a pig squeal.” Aunt Roxy’s red-spotted turban was poked inside the dining-room door. “I’lowed to tell yo' all befo’ dinner,”’ she said, “not to eat none o’ dat ar cherry pie, 'cause hit ain’t got no sweetnin’ in. Thar ain’t but only one cherry pie, 'cause I tuck all de cherries to put inter dem little patty tarts; wasn’t only jest 'muff left fo’ one pie, an’ when I'd done got de pies in de pans an’ was fixin’ ob 'em fo’ de top crus’, dat ar white chiny bowl ob sugar guv out jest as I got to de cherry pie, an’ 1'lows I'll leave dat one go tell T gits a rest, an’ when I puts on de top crusties I'll go fetch some mo’ sugar; an’ I’clare to mercy I neber thought no mo’ about hit tell jest a little while ago—don’t even 'member noticin’ dat pie when I fin- ished t'others, an’ I reckon I jest put on de top crus’ ’dout thinkin’ nothin’ ’hout nit; but yo' all needn’t cut dat ar pie tell I opens hit an’ puts sugar in hit.”” “I think, Aunt Roxy, that we have cut it already,” replied Uncle Grimble, look- ing gravely at Tilly, who turned as red as the cherry juice running in a bright stream from where the pie had been cut. It was all he said. But Tilly, suddenly realizing the gravity of the offense she had ¢tommitted, and overwhelmed with morti- fication at its detection, felt herself justly punished. Edna, pitying her grief, provosed to go on equal shares in the gifts; but Uncle Grimble would not permit it from a stern sense of jastice. “After all,” he said to himself, *‘perhaps I should not have offered a premium. Love is thé best motive to work from, and one not likely to induce deceit.” But as the premium had been offered it was now awarded to Edna's Christmas pie.—Golden Days. BLUE CANON, Cal., December 16, 1896. Dear Editress: It has been several weeks since I wrote to the CALL, but we are having examinations in our school and I have not had time to write. Next Friday will be the last day of school until next spring. I would very much like to get acquainted with the little boy who lives in the lighthouse. Ihave never been very near to a lighthouse, and would like to know more about it. If we have much snow up here this winter, as it is a place where snow usually falls in the winter, the rotary snow-plow will come up here to work; and as we generally have from three to twenty feet of snow, I should liko some of the littie children who live in San Francisco to come up here and see what a wonderful thing ft is. You will see inclosed some answers to the puzzles of Dec. 13. I remain, Your little friend, RETHA WALDAN, C. R. C. SANTA CRuz, Cal., Dec. 20, 1896, Dear Editor: 1 am a little girl 12 years old and go to the Laurel School. 1am in the sixth grade. I send you a puzzle, wishing to be- come & member of the C. R.C. I love books very much and Iam generally reading one. I like history the best of all. We had a fine time at school the last day. We had a tree and & Santa Claus; Donald Kelsey was Santa Claus. Ihavea fine time in summer when many of mamma’s old friends come to spend the sum- mer here. Fearing that my leiter might be getting too long I remain yours truly, HETTIE SNYDER. P.S. Please print this letter. SAN FRANCISCO, Dee. 20, 1896, Dear Editor: Tnis is my first letter to you and I would like to join the C. R.C. I read the “Childhood’s Realm” page every Sunday, and enjoy it very much. Ialways try the puz- zles and sometimes get all of them. Have got them all to-day. but do not know if they are right. Igo to the Cleveland School and like my teacher very much. I am in the fifth grade and was No. 1 this month. We had a Christmsas exhibition and I took part in it. I will be 10 years old next month and havea little sister named Jessie, 8 years old. Wish- ing you a merry Cnristmas, I remain your new friend, FRED ANTHER. 419 Tenth st. TRINIDAD, Dec. 19, 1896. Lear Editor: This is my secona letter to THE CALL and I was so glad to see my other one'in printin THE CALL ¢f December 3. Ilike the children’s page, as it is nice to read the letters from the little boys and girls during the long winter evenings, It is so lonesome atalight- house. Every night before I go to bed, mamma and I go upstairs and look out of the window up the hill and watch a large deer that comes there every night. Helikes togaze at the light. When the ocean roars he nds for halfan hour and listens to it. My papa will not allow any one to shoot him, because I enjoy his visits. Last week a stcamer tried to come into our wharL but it was s0° rough it had to stay | out for twodays. Ireceived akind letter from an unknown friend, M. Eva Navone. I think i Santa Ciaus gives any little boy or girl a bicycle for Christmas they ought 10 be haipy, for I think a bicycle is the bestthing out. Your friend, NTON E. HARRINGTON- SAN FraNcisco, Dec. 22, 189 Dear Editor: Iwas not sick at all, and & 8s great an finterest as ever in reading the etters, stortes and contributions to pizzle- dom. lam pleased alwaysto hear from old samiliar friends ana to see so many new names added to the C. R. C. list. A little friend of miue has been sick with scarlet fever for three weeks. Perhaps <ome of the boys and giris know her and would like to hear from her. Hor name is May D—. She is nine years of age, and lives at 917 Sunsome street. She has neither brother nor sister, and hardly ever knew what means a mother's love. Her mother died when she was but 2 years old. Since then she has been cared for by sirangers. She is guarded like a vprisoner. A notice on her door warning all passersby of a contagious disease scares all her playmates away. By aspecial favor I was admitted, and 1t was with pity and dismay I saw the bLavoc that dread disease had made on her pale and wasted tiny form. I wonder if Santa Claus is afraid of tever ) and if he will fill ber little stocking on Christ- mas eve. A merry Christmas and happy New Year to to you and all the members of C. R.C. and aspirants thereto is the sincere wish of your friend, MAX SELIG. SANTA Rosa, Cal., Dec. 21, 1896, Dear Editor: This 1s my first letter to Tug CALL. My papa has taken THE CALL for a long time. Iam 9 yearsold. Ihave s littlesister3 whose name is Mona. Christmas is coming and I am very glad. 1like to read the Child- hood’s Realm. We used to live near Oakland before we moved up here on the ranch, but I like the conntry best. Hoping tosee my letter in the next Sunday’s CALL I shall close. Wish- ing all a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, I remain, your little friend, BELLA KNEALE. ALAMEDA, Cal.,, Dec. 22, 1896. Dear Fditor: We have guessed all the pnz- zles in last Sunday’s paper but one, o lve thought we would send them in and they were right. We are two schoolgirls, we reside near each other. We have taken THE CALL for a good many years, and we like it very much. We like to guess the puzzles in Childhood’s Realm, but we never thoughtof sending them in before. Hoping to see our letter in print next Sunday, we remain, yours traly, Lol A MORTIMER and Exya LESLIE. BAN FRANcISco, Monday, Dec. 21, 1896. Dear Editor: This is my first letter to THE CALL, for we just began to take it before the holidays. 1 enjoy reading the Childhood’s Reaim very much, but would enjoy it more to have my name appear in it. Your new friend, ELstE DEWE CORNWALL, Cal., Dec. 23, 1896. Lear Editor: As1did not see my letter in last Sunday’s CALL I thought I would write again. Isaw my name but not my letter. I solved some of the puzzles and will send them in. I will also send some puzzies in to be solved. I wonder what Santa Claus wiil bring me for Christmas. Hoping to see my letter in Sunday’s CALL this time, I remain, ETHEL WiLps, C. R. C. P. S.—Dear Editor, if you see Santa Claus down where you live please toll him 10 come up to my house. ETHEL PUZZLES H}W NIE) @ i - | | I. Hidden fruits. (a) He appeared well to-day. (b) The little chap pleased his sister. (c) A suitable monument should be erected. (d) A vessel of queer shape achieved the honors of the day. Belected. 11. Oh! oh! exclaimed Tommy, My brain’s in & —; IfIdow't do these Pa wili make such a ‘Tuss. Oh! — here is something To bother me more! This lesson in French, Imust — o’er and o'er. I wish,” Tommy said, With & — and a trown, ] could be — away, From this musty old town.” There is a different word in each stanza to ‘be transposed. MAY F. MERRILL. I1I. Anagram. Pay, hen, aye, warp. greeting. MaIDpA CLUFF, C. R. C. 1V. Curtailing. (Drop final letter.) Curtail a bana of cattle and have a personal pronoun. JessiE HARKIN, C. R. C. V. Curtail a wild animal and-have a minis. ter. VI. Behead a laboring article and have & fastening. Five and six, by 3 ETHEL WILDS, C. Tmtmhehennnaooi. CLATRE McCLU 6 years old, C. R. ‘WORD SQUARES, VIIL 1. Wish. 2. Unsealed. 8. Hang. 4. Closes. IX. 1—Halt. 2. Brald. 3. To unclose. 4. bmall inclosures for animals. Ipa WIGHTMAN, C. R. C. X. 1. A small particle. 2. Portion of a fork. 3. At one time. 4. To come together. ETHEL McCLURE, C. R. C. A VIL Pi. we see in the sky. Pnswers for December 20. 1. Spine—pine. II. Scorn—corn. L (a) Amy. (b)) Ethel. 1V. Ice+v=Vice. V. Santa Cla VL (a) Brake—baker. (b) Stake—steak. (c) Master—stream. * (d) Nails—snail. VIL A heavenlybody— STAR Gentle— TAME An ancient prophet—A M O 8 To repose— REST (A misprint occurred in last.) VIIL Jack and Jin, ete. A Merry Christm: g Letters Acknowledged. Pleasant communications have also been re- ce:ved from the boys and girls whose names follow: Claire McClure, Carrie Mills, Bennie Mills, Ethel Wilds, Beckie Heino, Clinton E. Harrington, Addie F. Bar:ley, May Carroll, Irene A. Moore, Helen Suyder and Marie Ches- worth, C: R. C. Names of Puzzle-Solvers. Answers to puzzles of December 20 have been received from the tollowing members ot C. R. C: Max Belig, Ethel McClure, Retha Waldan and Alice Bell. For December 13 from Jessie Harkin. Answers from non-members for December 20: Fred Anther, May Carroll, Maida Ciuff, Mignonde Sannon, Ethel Wiids, L. Mortimer and Emma Leslie, * IX.