The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 7, 1897, Page 26

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, MARCH 7, 1897. W A thought for the coming week: “That the tongue is not steel, Yet it cuts!” Mareh! vou blustering, noisy lout! What are vou doing ? Where do you stay ? Winter is flying in broken array; Come! bid her whirl to the right-about— Get the fields ready for Aprit and May. Thaw the ice from the frozen rill, Blow the clouds to their proper places, Gather the strong winds loud and shrill To dry the marsh and te clear the hill, For spring to display her airs and graces! Awkward you are, and sharp, no doubt; Still are we glad to see you near, ith cheek 50 ruddy and eye 8o clear, With lusty humor and joyous shout, Calling far off for the summer to hear. Rough as your clumsy touch may be, inges the tassel for alder and larch; You are the sort of a fellow for me— | Come from your hiding-place. Forward, | March! M. E. BLAKE. | *Tis March! ch with his dark days 1 of farewell to winter and bis bright blue days of promise of coming spring. The Romans gave to this grand old blus- | tering fellow his name in honor of Mars, their god of war. It those who were blown to this world of ours by bieak March winds ever wear upon their fingers a bloodstone they will | be given great wisdom, and in time of danger be always firm and brave. An odd stone it is, too; hard and finely fibrous, being really a kind of iron ore. It varies in its color from a steely gray to a bright blood red. It was very highlv prized by the an- cients, many of the Egyptian intaglios be- ing made of it, but now it is principally used as a polish for other stones and metals. What is commonly called tbe blood- | stone is only a variety of quartz, greenish, with flecks of red jasper through it. The violet! the violet! Sweet emblem of sweet modesty is the flower chosen by March, and right royally doss he strew them over the hills and sunny vales of our | glorious State. varing the last week the sun rose and | set on a day that will shine out forever as | one of the brightest days in the history of | our Nation. The 4th of March, when William Mc- Kinley was inaugurated President of the United State: Now join with me, boys and girls of the C. R. C., in giving three cheers and a tiger for our new President, William McKinley. Shin g Icome, I come with my cheering smile Each waiting flower to greet; O’er hill and dale, In wildwood vale, Are the marks of my dancing feet. My steps are light as a feather blown Wherever the wind may list;" But the flowers wild Have blushed and smiled, Wherever my lips have kissed. The bills are clothed with & vivid green Of softest moss and grass; A graceful bed For the lovely head Of each little wildwood lass. 1 bring for these, my children dear, The gift of a sunay smile, And a soft caress, And a dainty dress Colored in glowing style. To them I am a Santa Claus Who comes but once a year, But 1 linger long With & smile and song; I am loth to disappesr. Mgs. E. J. CAFFERTY. Troe Stovy of Bay Yoong, THE DRUMMER BOY. BY STELLA M. IDDINGS. (As Related 10 Her by Her Father.) recruiting office in Detroit for the 1Y, Twenty-fourth Michigan Infantry, and to attract attention he bad little Billy Young (who did not look to be over 8 years old) drumming for him in front of his office. No one thought of sosmall a boy going to the war; but Billy was full of fight and wanted to do his share in put- ting down the rebellion. His mother would not consent to his go- ing with the regiment and it nearly broke the little fellow’s heart. So it wasa sad day for him when the Twenty-fourth left lés July, 1862, Captain Owens opened a | March blows away the "/“\;o' L3 - Bormae - mblsWe Rimamos ~ storms of winter To make earth and sky ready for the joys of spring. ! Billy for a “home guard” and went to the | “front” without him. Yet he kept on | beating his drum in public, but kept his | thoughts to himself. One day not long after the Twenty- fourth departed he saw troops going on board & boat bound for Washington. He joined the troops and asking no questions he walked on board unmolested. The | Twenty-fourth was in camp at Washing- | ton, and what was their surprise to '“i one day coming up the road but a| | drum with a littie head just peeping over it, and lo! and behold Billy soon arrived, happy and hungry. The captain wrote | his mother concerning his whereabouts | | and she could do no more than give her | | consent for him to remain. So Billy en- | 1 | listed as a drummer. { The regiment soon went into active ser- | | vice and the little drummer was allowed | to “run wila” or any way heliked. Some- | where in Maryland he picked up a little | darky boy about his own age named | Lincoln. They chummed, and when Billy | was tired Lincoln carried the drum. They | ate, slept and were always together—very | much alike except in color. { Billy’s clothes suon wore out, 30 he had | | to take a pair of men’s pants and cut off | | the legs. Then he pulled the waistband | clear up to his armpits and did not care how long the war lasted. Nevertheless he | | had lots of “‘good stuff”’ in him, only it | needed to be brought out. After about | six months his capiain had a fine new | military suit of clothes made on purpose | for Billy by a tailor in the company. The | little boy next had his hair cut and went | to the creek and took a good bath. Put- | ting on the new suit he took a look at him- | self; first at his paats, then at his coat. Finally straightening himself up he said “XKow, Billy, yon have got to be a man. | You can't chum with the darky any more.”” An for the rest of the time he was a perfect little gentleman and did the drumming both for the brass band and for the drum corp« | | Sometimes on dress parade the running | | blackberry vines would catch his feet and | over on his drum he would go, just as any boy might fall over a barrel, but up he | would jump, run and get his place and | drum away as if it was all in the play. | | Even Lhe colonel had often to smile, and | some of the band boys couldn’t blow for | laughing. | | Billy wasa temperance boy, too. Yes, he | promised his mother he wouldn’t drink | | and he kept that promise faithfully. Often | | when the band went to serenade some | | generals he felt insulted when the bottle | was passed to him. Once as his regiment was falling back (won’t ca!l it retreating)! from Stevensburg, Va., the shelis were falling pretty thick, and Billy, if he was small, was making *‘good time."” | As they passed a house where several | 1adies stood looking out, one of them said: “OL! see that little drummer-boy.”’ An- other saia: “Where? O,yes! The dear, | | little fellow.” | Billy shouted: “If you feel so bad as that, why don’t yon bring out a hoe-cake? But then, don’t know as I could stop to ¢ eatit. I'm very anxious to get across the | river just now.” On the march for Gettysburg he got | | very tired, so when he passed near the quartermaster’s wagon, as he knew a good thing when he saw it, he stopred with | him.” Here let me say he was always wel- | come anywhere around headquarters. He | would go out to buy butter and eggs of the farmers, and when he offered the | money to pay they invariably refused it. He said it didn’t make him mad a bit when they refused the money. In that way he kept the quartermaster's table well supplied. After the battle of Gettys- burg some one said: *Billy, where were you at the time of the fight?’ Straight- | ening ap his lttle form_he answered: “Twenty-six miles in the rear, living on | the fat of the land.” There was another William Young in the regiment. Once when Colonel Morrow was at home on a furlough Billy’s mother asked the colonel | what kind of a soldier her son made. | Thinking of the other William Young, | ne answered, ‘‘A good soldier—always in | the thickest of the fight.” The mother | was frightened, and cried: “What! my litile boy in the thickest of the fight?” The colonel saw his mistake and said, “Oh, you mean little Billy. He isa good boy and a fine drummer.’” While the regiment was in front of Pe- tersburg Billy got a fifteen-day furlough to go home and see his mother. He got | back as far as City Point, Va., on time, | but belng quite sick he called on a Mrs. | Dr. Riplev—a lady in charge of the low- diet kitchen whose brother was one of the | Twenty-fourth boys and on duty there— and, as Billy had met Mrs. R. several | tinzes before, he was as much at home in her tent as though it was his mother’s. The comrade notified the colonel in the morning of his return, about kis sickness, and Billy was allowed to stay at the hos- vital until he was better. It took a long time for him to recover, for he had so much fun boating on Appomattox Bay and taking in the sights at the landing that he didn’t care to be better. Billy wasa fine ecroll writer. One day Mrs. Ripley saw that he was very busy with a pencil and a pine board. After he had gone out she | | | { A GAME WITH MAMMA’S BOA. found he had made a tombstone for her brother, all filled out in fine style. It read thus: Sacred to the memory of Edwin Cotton, ‘Who departed this life gal for his country. Peace to his ashes. But everything has to end at some time. One day Billy came in looking & little sober. Seid he: ‘‘Hereis an imperative order for me to report to my regiment.” ‘But Billy,” said the comrade, “do you think you are strong enough 10 go vet?” “I'm afraid I'm not quite; the bay looks s0 tempting, I think I'll chapce it a few davs more,” was his reply. Well, he finally went back and the colouel was so vleased to see him that he asked no questions about his sickness, He served the full term (three years) and went home to Detroit quite a grown-up boy. He proved to be sober and indus- trious. After a while he iearned the en- graver's trade, married a pretty girl and beceme in time the head of a family. 8o, according to the old adage I will say in conclusion: *All’s well that ends ntly fgbting itcame there,” answered Robb e's mamma, soberly. “Well, mamma, I dig ‘orget, but now I 'member all 'bout it. There was a dear little hop-toad lying right down in the garden patch, watchin’ to catch a fly for his breakfus.’ I didn’t want to 'sturb him, 50 I nad to lie right flat on my stomach to kiss him, he looked so cunning!” “But you shouldn’t have kissed him, Robbie. You know 1've told you a great many times not to kiss anything or any- body but papa and mrmmaand uncle and auntie. Can’t you remember, Robbie?” “Ithink I'll 'member now, mamma,” said Robbie quickly, evidently anxious to change the subject, “Tell me, mamma, what did the little boy do when he went out in the garden?’ *“When the little boy went out into the garden to play,” continued Robbie’s mamma, ‘‘he did not notice a biack cloud that was just coming up in the West.” “What made the cloud black, mamma? Did the angels up in the sky paint it black?” “No, dear; clouds are black when they. are full of rain or wind.” “Ldon’t like black clouds, mamma, and Idon’t believe the little boy liked them either. I like white clouds and pink and red clouds. Mamma, are there any green clouds?” “No, Robbie—"" “Why?" “Now, Robbie, you must not ask so many questions, or I shall never finisk my story,” said Robbie’s mamama a little im- putiently. *‘Otto, as I said, went outin the garden, and he carried with him a lit- tle shovel and p ” “0, mamma,” cried Robbie, jumping out of his chair, “was he going to dig clams? Don’t you ‘member what a lovely time I had on the beach with my little shovel and pail when the man showed me how to dig clams out of the mud, and they siuck out their litile biack heads and spit i at me.” | “Yes, I remember,’ said Robbie’s | mamma, pressing ner little boy vack into | his chair. *Do sit down, Robbie. Otto, yot know, was in a garden, not on the beach. Clams don’t live in flower gardens.” “Why don’t they live in flower gardens, mamma? Whatdo nice little clams live | in the mud for?” fl “WAS YOU EVER A NAUGHTY GIRL, FAN-FAN?” Rebbie’s Stovy. “Tell me a story, mimma, bplease,’” urged little five-year-old Robbie; as his | mother came into the sitting-room where he was playing with his Noah’s Ark. “I'm just going to put Noah and his wife to bed, and the animals are shut up for the night. Won’t you tell me a story?” “There isn’t much time before papa comes home, dear; only about fifteen minutes. He is coming early to-night.”” “Never mind, mamma; you can tell me a nice little story in fifteen minutes if you begin right away,’”” ana Robbie drew his little chair close beside his mother’s and waited for her to begin. “Once upon a time,” she began, *a good while ago, there was a little boy named Otto.” “How long ago, mamma? Was it ever'n ever so many days, or was it a year?” “It was more than a year, Robbie.” “How long time is a year, mamma?” “‘A year is twelve months.” “But how many days, I mean ?”" “Three hundred and sixty-five,” an- swered Robbie’s mamma. “Oh, what lots of days!” saia Robbie, looking very thoughtful. ‘“Was Otto a very little boy, mamma, littler than me?’’ “Don’t say ‘littler than me,’ dear,’’ said Robbie's mamma, “for that isn’t a nice way to talk. Say smaller thar. 1" “Why can’t I say littler as well as smaller, mamma? I think it sounds just as nice.” “I can’t explain that to you now, Rob- bie, but if you don’t care to hear about the little boy, I'll go and see about papa’s supper,” said Robble’'s mamma, half-rising from her seat. b, 1 do, I do, mammal” cried Robbie, | twisting his little chair about and seizinx his mother by the neck. ‘‘Please tell me what the little boy did.” “The little boy went out to pizy in the garden,”’ began Robbie’s mamma again, but Robbie interrupted: “Was it a great big garden, mamma, or was it just a little one, like ours?” “It was a pretty large garden,” Rob- bie's mamma answered, patiently, “‘and little Otto started out to play there—-"’ “Did it bave flowers and trees, and pretiy, furry caterpillars, and dear little hop-toads, mamma?” *Yes, it had all those, just like our gar- den; and Otto—"" “O0 mamma, I think I must tell you somefin’ before I forget it again. You know the soiled place on my blouse you asked me 'bout!” “Yes, You said you didn’t know how Robbie wrigzled himself haif-way across his mamma’s lap, and looked eageriy up into ber face. Robbie’s mamma began to | look tired, and paying no atiention to his iast question she went on with her story. | “‘Otto, as I tola you, did not notice the bluick cloud, and he wes walking into the grape-arbor swinging his little pail, when suddenly he beard aloud rumble and a crash which Le knew was thunder—" ©Oh, mamma! Wasn’t he awfully fright- ened? Idon'tlike thunder.” Robbie's mamma glanced at the clock. *'But what makes the lightning? Mam- ma, teil me what makes—"" Robbie’s mamma held up her hand, while a look of great relief came over her face. “Hark! I think that is papw’s step in the hall. Yes, it is. Come, let us run and meet him.” *But, mamma, I want to hear the rest of the storv about the little boy in the garden,” cried Robbie, as his mamma hastened into the hall.—Youtk’s Com- panion. 1raogovation i : Waj Nowhere. On last Thursday merning a boy o 14, who is a good friend of mine, and Who, by the way, is the son of a prominent attor- ney, asked the date. “Why, my dear,” 1 explained, “this is the 4th of March, the great inauguration day.” “Oh, is it?” he exciaimed. “Well, 1 wasn’t thinking of that. I was just think- ing that it’s only thirteen days till the great fight comes off!” Chiteven’ 5 Bayin 35- Mother—No, Charlie; you canuot have two pleces of pie. { Charlie—Den wiil ’ou div me tree? Sunday-school Teacher—Johnnie, what took Sumsou’s strength? Jonnnie—The barber. Mother—Mary, go to the butcher’s and get me a 10-cent steak, Mary (to butcher five minutes Mamma wants a ten-cent post. later)-— Mamma—Eddie, go and get mamma & drink. Eddie—I can’t, mamma, the dark is in the way. E1s(e L. BLODGET. MR e A protty story is told about a little boy Whose elder sister is much interested in photography, and gives the family the benefit of many observations about her work. This little boy was taken to the Courthouse to see the end of a certan trial. He came homeand told his mothcr aboutit. “The Judge made a speech to the jury,” he said, “and ihen sent them into a little dark room to develop.” —_—— 1 2 VALLEJO, Cal., March 1, 1897. Dear Editress: We are two little boys named John and George, aged seven and a half and five and & half respectively. We both go to the North Vallej> School snd iike it very much. We have & pet cat, which isy jet-black. We call it Pussy, and have lots of ful. with it. It will not allow any other cat to come inside the gate, and has scared =l the rats away. We have ofton wished to belong to the C. R. C., but could not think of anything which we could do nice enough for your puper. This afternoon we tried some gobolinks, and have sent you our two nicest ones. As we think our letter is getting long we must now close, hoping it will escape the wastebasket, as it is our first letter to your lotter box. We remain your new friends, Jomux HUNTER PATTERSON, GEORGE ANDERSON PATTERSO: OAKLAND, Cal., Feb. 28, 1897. Dear Editress: 1 have not written to you since I came home from Watsonville, about oight or nine months ago. I fell and sprained my ankle on Washington’s birthdey, and have not been able to go to school. I wish to be a member of the C. R. C.,s0 I shall send in a puzzie or two. Hoping to see my letter in print next Sunday I shall close, Affection- ately, JENNTE MORGAN. NEWVILLE, Cal, Feb. 18, 1897. Dear Editor: 1 have written soie rhymes to join the C. R. C. ii they will be accepted. These are the first thymes I ever tried to write: MY FIRST BHYME. The water Is vlue, The owls say, “W00! woo!” The little birds twitter, And the Little girls titter, The doakey bruys On sunny days. The flowers bloom And the cannons o boom. “Che boys piay ball And then read 1 HE CALL. The birds sing By the spring, And the boys jump over the wall, To get to read THE CALL. From Mas:er ( USSTE WHEELEB. DINUBA, Cal., Feb. 28, 1897. Dear Editor: I thought I wouid write you a letter aud send you some puzzies. Ihave not seen any letters from Dinuba in THE CALL, andso I thought I would write one. I was 12 years old last Janoary. I am in the fifth grade. We live taree milesand a half from Dinuba, Papa has a farm. T ride horseback to school. 1 like my teacher very much; his name is Mr. Horseman. The fowers are very pretty now. Lthink the poppy and the baby blue-eyes are the prettiest. We have two dogs and one cat. Hoping to see my letter in print, I remam your reader, GRETCHEN NICHOLS. GRASS VALLEY, Cal., Feb. 28, 1897. Dear Editor: 1 would like very much to be a member of the C.R.C.,so0 I thought that{ would send some puzzies. The oaly pet I have is a little white kitten. His name is | snowball. In the morning when it is cold he sits on the hearth of tne stove und burns his fur black. My teacher's name is Miss Rose- vere. Iam in the sixth grade and go to the Bell Hall School. 1go to the Episcopal church and Sunday-school. Yoars truly, FLORENCE KENT. UK14H, Cal., Feb. 28. Dear Editor: This is my first letter. lam a little girl 8 years old. I go to Sunday-school. I would like to join the C.R.C.circle. My kituy has not been poisonea yet. I had the measles and had to stay out ot school for a .ong time. Yours truly, DONNA BRUNNER. 1897. Sax Fraxcisco, March Dear Editor and Members of C. R. C.: This is my first letter to THE CALL. I have often wished to write t> you, but we_have moved so. often that I hardly hal time. Iam now living at the Richmond Hotel. I goto theS. H. P. Conventschool, where nothing but refinement isallowed. Tam acousin of Patti and Leta De Ferri. My papa has taken THE CALL for eight years, and I like the children’s page very much. My cousin will be surprised when she sees that 1 can write a letter to you. I try to solve the puzzles, but can’t. I hope you | will not put my letter in the wastebaskst. Your friend, VERDA HAZEL GRANT. SUSANVILLE, Cal, Feb. 21, 1897. Dear Editor: 1 have never seen a letter from Susanville so1 though I would write one. 1 Live about four miles from Susanville, one- quarter of a mile from the flouring-mill and about three-quarters of a mile from the school- house. East of the schoolhouse twenty-five rods is a creamery called he Dismond Mountain Creamery. Ilike to live in the country. Iam 11 years old. My father takes the DAILY CALL. Ienjoy reading the children’s page in THE SUNDAY CALL, especially the lotters. Ihavea little white pony, with a black mane and tail, named Joe. In the summer I like toride horseback and help my papa to drive cattle. My little friend hasa pony too. When the weather is pleasant we go horseback riaing. As my letter is growing long Ishall close, and hope it will escapa the wastebaskot, Stncerely your little reader, JoSiE V. CRAMER. PENNS GROVE, Cal., Feb. 27, 1897, Dear Editor : 1 didn’t see mv letter in the last paper so hope to see this one printed. We bad a big snow up here. Our school will commence next Monday. I think my letter is getting too long, so I shall close. Your friend, Lucy DUERSON (12 years). P. S.—I should like to belong to the C. R. C. CALISTOGA, Cal., Feb. 22, 1897. Dear Editor: 1ama little boy 10 years old. I have never written 1o you before, but my sister Eva has often done s0. 1go to the Calis- toga public school and am in the fifth grade. My teacher’s name is Mrs. C. A. Carroll. My | sister is in the eighth grade and her teacher’s name is Professor Husker. She is 14 vears old. Ihavebeen teking lessons on the violin for about six months, C. Caramano being my teacher. Eva takes lessons on the piano of him also. I like my music, but would rather hunt birds than practice. I should like to join the C.R. C., but Iam afraid Iwill not, for I can’t write stories and poemsand can’t zuess puzzles very well. Hoping that you will publish my letter I am your friend, JOHNNY O. NAVONE. SAN FRANCISco, Cal., Feb. 21, 1897, Dear Editor: 1am going to make a proposal to the members of Childhood's Realm, which, if you think well of, I would like to see in print. My proposal is that the members of Chfldhood’s Reaim try to secure the old and cherished statue of Washington which is in Woodward's Gardens as arelic of the play grounds of the children of the early days of San Francisco before there was any beautiful Golden Gate Park, os a memorial of the founder of Wooaward's Gardens and our be- loved Washington. If the chilaren would try to secure this mon- ument I feel sure that some lover of children and of his country would nelp us to place it in the children’s play ground. Your patriotic little reader, Hazel BELL, age 11 years. SIERRA CITY, Cal, Feb. 23, 1897. Lear Editor: This letter is a description of Sierra City. Itfsa town ot about 600 popuis- tion. - The schoolchiidren number between sixty-five and seventy-five. The schoolhouse 1s a pretty well built structure; it is warm in wiuter. There are about eighteen inches of show here now. The snowshoeing is fine, as is the sleigh-riding. In a recen: issue of THE SUNDAY CALL you called it “skeeing,” as they call it in Norway. Snowshoeing is a fine sport, The other day I went to & pl ‘Where ! ' i % noR b‘elu-vb[dgf\_@ ehave & pussy Gab, plaipas it Gam be. 'l , bvq’fi/?flz‘e }nc’l’u/e Upsiae dow:g_ Ihad some fox traps set. On my way home I had one of the swiftest rides on the ‘‘skees” that I ever had. The snowshoes are made of wood. In the middle itis the thickest, where the straps for the feet go in. The snowshoes are tapering and the tip is bent or curved. To make snowshoes it is necessary to get the straigntest grained wood possible. In my next letter I shall tell more about “skees,’ or snowshoes, and Ishall also give a recipe for “dope,” which 15 used on the skees to make them go. Your reader, THEODORE Joos (C. R. C.). New Brain-Rackety. 1. Form a proverb of these words: Tin, am, dime, desr, it, wou, fan, to. LILLIAN MITCHELL (C. R. C.). 1L Two O's, two N's, an Land & D, Put them together, then spell them to me. F. Kext (C. R. C.). 1IL (a) Behead a limit and have a color (b) Behead one of asociety and havea hot cinger. (c) Behead an edge and have a command. GRETCHEN N1CHOLLS (C. R. C.). 1V. (a) Why are be.ls used 1n calling people to ehurch? (b) When does a clock have a “high old time”? Selected by A. CRAWFORD (C. R. C.). V. In which month do ladies talk the least? M. LAGOMARSINO (C. R. C.)o horse, oriole, dude, X. Crocus, mable, chloral. VL My 1 isin cake, but not in pfe, My 2 is in spider, but not in fly. My 3 is in chair, but nol_fln stool. My 4 is in cane, but not in rule, My 5 is in cook, but not in beke. My 6 15 in water, but not in lake. My whole is a place where salt mines abound, And in some of these mines many trav- elers are found. BETR JOHNSTONE (C. R. C.) Green am I in spring; Late in summer, yellow; In the autumn, red— When the days grow mellow. VIL You on me may read, You on me may write; Green, rea, yellow, Though I am, Iam white. Wrinkle not my face, Lat me live in clove: Look, but handle not; Yes, you may turn me over. Selected by AL}A SEA (C. R. C.). PRl Names of Puzzle-Solvers, Answers to puzzles of February 28 hava been received from the following members ot C- R. C.: Alice Bell, Madalensa Lagomarsino, WV B AN v HE LOVES THE WARRIOR BOLD. VIII. General BSBB $0.01 his cccc A + TEA he River. J. MoRGAN (C R ) IX. My 1isin kid, not in goat; My 2 is fn gou, not in antelope; My 3 is in thyme, not in verse; Mr 4 is in bad, not in worse; I My 5 is in swim, not in fioat; My whole is a French writer of note. HARTLEY E. JACKSON, C. R. C. X. Why is March 3 a day to be remembered especially in Russin? | Why is the 17th of March a holiday in Ire- | land? | — Correct Answers. For February 28, 1897. L Mississippi. 11. Wagon. III. Winter. 1V. Revel, lever, spool, loops. V. Star, rats. | Slap, pals. Garb, brag. Live, evil. Golf, flog. VI. Word square. 8 CRAP CHAIR RAISE ATISLE PREEN VII. He, Hen, Henry. VIIL Things done by halves are never dons right. IX. Wheel, heel, eel. Spoke, poke. Tire, ire. | names follow: Atta May Theo Joos, Lillian P. Mitchell, Retha Waldan, Fred Anthes and Alma Sea, For February 21 from Theo Joos, Madalena Lagomarsino and L. P. Mitchell. From non-members for February 28: May McCarthy, Lillie Rusac, Elsie Davis, Irene Fur- long and Florence Ken Letters 'Ack:\:;\)lzdged. Besides letters publishea pleasant comma- nications have been received from those whose dams, Mary L. Wil- ilams, Louse Nelle, Elsie L. Blodget, Clara Chuse, Annie E. Rogers, Alice J. Johnson, Retha Wadan (C. R. C.), Beckie Heino (C. R. C.). George M. Furlong, Harry Peshon, A. Voice, F. Anthes (C. R. C.), Susie Cardozs, 0aa Watkins, Elsie Davis, August Wardinger and P. and C. de Ferri (C. R. C.). Among Our Exchanges. A story of Northern Arizons, by Kirk Mun- roe, 1 now being publishea in Harper's Round Table. This is sure to be of much in- | terest to the boys. { Thelast number of this bright paper con- tainsan interesting, timely article on “The Inauguration of a President. “Golden Days” of March 6 is full of enter- taiping stories for old and young. Its puzzle department is oue best published. Childhood's Realm Glub. The first day of March is celebrated by the Welsh people in honor of their patron saint, St. David. ““Come, little boy,” his grandma said, “Upon this chair you'll sit, And hold tha worsted in your hands, And help your grandma kait.” 1 ©Qh, yes,” the little boy replied, And siniled a little bit; “There’s nothing I like more to do Than help my grandma—nit!” —Harper’s Round Tuble. -