Harper's Young People, August 3, 1880 Part 5

Will called Teazle away, while he and Almy tried very hard not to laugh.

"What have you got under the leaves?" asked Will, while Almy stooped over Ranna, and said, tenderly,

"Show us your treasure, darling, and we won't tell Teazle, nor Dowsy, nor anybody a word about it."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FALLEN NEST.--DRAWN BY S. G. MCCUTCHEON.]

Ranna sat up, brushed away the leaves, and took from under them a pretty little nest full of young robins. "They're my own baby birds, and I thought Dowsy would step on them," she said. "I found them just before I ran to bring you, only the nest was in a great, ugly, dark bush, where the poor little birdies couldn't feel any sun s.h.i.+nin', and I brung them here, and tovered them with leaves, so the chittens wouldn't frighten them while I was gone. What are those big birds flying round me for?

Tover my birdies up again; they are crying 'cause they are frightened."

"Hi! ho! hum! Harry!" exclaimed Will. "Those two birds are the excited and anxious parents of your baby birdies, Ranna, and they feel just about as comfortable as your father and mother would feel if a great giant--" But Will remembered suddenly that poor little Ranna had no mother, and, blus.h.i.+ng fiery red, said: "I'm a good-for-nothing old blunderbuss. You tell her, Almy; it's girl's talk, anyway."

Almy, with her arms around her little cousin, explained the situation.

Ranna eagerly pointed out the exact spot from which she had taken the nest, and when Will had carefully restored it, watched with great delight the old birds return to it.

"I'll never touch another nest in my life," she said; and holding one arm tight around Almy's neck, she beckoned to Will with the other.

Putting it around him, she drew his head close down to Almy's, and whispered: "_I_ don't think you're a _bundlefuss_, Will. I think you and Almy know just as well how to take care of little birds when their papas and mammas can't find them, as you do of little girls when their mammas is--is--is lost. And I'm going to tell all the children in the world that when they lose their mammas, the best thing they can do is to find my cousin Will and my cousin Almy."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I'S LEARNING TO SWIM, MAMMA."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]

We wish to express to our young correspondents our sincere regret that our limited s.p.a.ce compels us to simply acknowledge so large a number of the pretty letters which reach us daily from every part of the United States. Do not think, because your letters are not printed, that we do not consider them as well written or as interesting as those that are.

We are very sorry not to print all your little histories of your pet dogs, and kittens, and birds, and other little domestic creatures, or the excellent descriptions many of you write of the beautiful natural scenery surrounding your homes; but if there is no more room in Our Post-office Box, your letters can not be printed. We thank you heartily for the pleasure you express in "Across the Ocean," "The Moral Pirates,"

"Miss Van Winkle's Nap," and other stories and poems; and the eagerness with which you "run to meet papa when he brings home YOUNG PEOPLE" is very gratifying. We trust you will continue your pretty favors to us, and we, in return, will print all of your letters that we can possibly make room for, and will promise to give you more and more pleasure with every new number of YOUNG PEOPLE.

CAMP CARLING, WYOMING TERRITORY.

I have wanted to write to the Post-office Box for a long time, but mamma said there were so many children writing that my letter would not be printed.

We live in a camp, and see many curious things. When we look out of our windows, we see the _aparejos_, which are the saddles put on the mules when they are loaded. The saddles are arranged in long rows, with pieces of tent cloth thrown over them. Every day we see a great many mules going out and coming in. Then there is another queer thing. It is the "condemned heap." Almost every day my two little brothers go down to the pile and find a great many treasures. Every month lots of things from the warehouses are condemned, and brought to the heap to be burned. There are sixteen warehouses here, filled with government stores.

A great many of the men who were in the first Ute fight under Major Thornburgh went from this camp, and we know some of those that were wounded.

Every night and morning we hear the bugle-call that tells the soldiers when to get up, when to go to work, when to stop work, when to change guard, and when to go to bed. We always feel safe here, because we are guarded by soldiers.

EDNA S. B.

NEEDY, OREGON.

I like to read the letters in the Post-office Box of YOUNG PEOPLE so much that I thought I would write one from 'way out here in the backwoods of Oregon. I live in the Willamette Valley, where we can see Mount Hood any time when the weather is clear. It is a glorious sight, especially in the evening just before sundown. In the winter and spring the mountain is hid behind clouds more than half the time. Sometimes the top of it will peep out above the mist. Then it looks so strange. It is considered to be nearly 12,000 feet high.

ESTELLE M.

PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.

It is so nice to have a new YOUNG PEOPLE every week. My papa is an artist, and I am going to be one too. I draw a picture from YOUNG PEOPLE almost every day, and I read about Rosa Bonheur, and Miss Thompson, and all the great painters.

I have been to the Zoological Gardens. I rode the donkeys and the elephant, and I have made their pictures. I have a little Zoo in our back yard. I have a nice cat, two rabbits named Jack and Jill, and a turtle, and a fish in an aquarium that eats flies from my hands. My bird died, and papa painted its portrait. I called the picture "The Burial of the Dead Bird."

M. ELECTA F.

OTTAWA, OHIO.

I am nine years old, and for my birthday present mamma gave me one year's subscription to YOUNG PEOPLE, beginning with the first number. I like "The Moral Pirates" very much, and I was just wis.h.i.+ng for a serial with girls in it, and the very next paper had the beginning of "Miss Van Winkle's Nap." I was delighted with it.

I think the stories about Mr. Martin and Miss Pamela Plumstone's piano are so funny.

As Fourth of July came on Sunday this year, we had no public celebration, but some of the children in our neighborhood got up a celebration of their own at our house. Mamma made the oration, and played the national airs on the piano, after which we had a parade. We all had paper caps, and we had a flag and a drummer-boy. My little two-year-old cousin Gordon brought up the rear of the procession, with a paper cap on, and as gay as any of us.

BERTHA K.

JERICHO, LONG ISLAND.

I am a little girl ten years old, and I have a sister one year younger. We have very nice times together.

About a week ago my papa found a poor little bird with its wing broken. We took it home and fed it, and we thought it was getting better, but it died.

I have seen some letters from the children about little turtles.

Once we had one, and we used to dig worms for it to eat. It was in a globe, and once when we did not dig worms enough it ate the tail of one of the gold-fish.

We tried Sadie McB.'s recipe for candy, and it was a success.

M. J. L.

LOCKPORT, NEW YORK.

I saw some letters in Our Post-office Box asking for remedies for songless canaries. We have used "Sheppard's Canary Powder, or Song Restorer," for our canary, and found it very beneficial.

ALICE.