OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.

Come, dears, gather around the Postmistress, while she has a moment to look at you, and let her see how many merry faces she can count in the throng. There are some which are paler than they should be—little Gustave's, for instance; but no wonder, for he has been very, very ill, so that the house was all hushed on his account, and papa and mamma were afraid they would have to say good-by to their darling boy. But God answered their prayers, and now he is getting well fast, and soon will be as strong as ever. Here is Phœbe, who sends her love, but does not know how to write a letter. Never mind, dear; the love is the best part of any letter, and you will learn all about the rest when you are older. There are Kitty, Molly, Ted, Margaret, Frank, Bobby, and Jack, and ever so many more. The Postmistress knows your names by heart, and is sure she would know you if she happened to meet you on the way to school some bright spring morning.

She wonders if you would be willing to share your luncheon with her, and let her peep into your school-books. She doesn't wear spectacles, and she hasn't seven-league boots, but her eyes are pretty sharp, and she thinks she could walk as fast on her feet as Robin A. says he can on stilts, and she would not need more than one glance at a girl's exercise to know whether the little lady did her best,

Or did not work, And tried to shirk.

And now for our letters, children.

Wayne, Illinois.

I am a little girl seven years old. I have a doll; her name is Amy. My papa bought me some calico, and I am making her a dress, and mamma says it is done nicely for the first one. Papa went to St. Charles yesterday, and bought me some card-board and worsted, and I think it will keep me busy for some time. I can work my name. I hope my letter will be printed.

Alice M. K.

We thank Miss L. C. for her kindness in sending us the nice little budget of letters from her pupils. They were all of nearly equal merit, and those children whose letters are not printed may be sure that we liked them just as well as we did that of Allie D., which follows:

State Centre, Iowa.

Our reading class have been reading out of Harper's Young People instead of our Readers this term, and I like it very much. In No. 114 was a very interesting article on the sponge, and for our examination last month we had to write a composition on it. In No. 117 was a very interesting article on the cigarette. I think if boys and men knew what is in cigars and cigarettes, they would not smoke them. Just think of men and boys smoking cigars that are made up of stubs that are found in gutters in large cities! I think some of your puzzles are very interesting. I like the monogram puzzle very much. You have had some very pretty illustrations in your papers, especially the "Little Dreamer," which is pretty enough for an oil-painting. I have not been very much interested in the "Talking Leaves," because we did not have the first numbers; but we are waiting very patiently for the next story by Mr. Otis.

Allie D.

Pictou, Nova Scotia.

I am a little boy living in Pictou, Nova Scotia, in the Dominion of Canada. Papa takes your paper for me and sister Eliza, and we like it immensely, as we hear some people say about anything they like very much. It is now winter with us; we have a heavy fall of snow on the ground, and it is banked up as high as the windows at our house. The harbor is frozen over altogether down as far as the light-house, about three miles from town, outside of which it hardly ever freezes, but is open all winter. Some parts of our harbor are three miles wide, other places one mile. The ice is now about one foot thick, and carries horses and sleds with large loads of coal. It is marked in many directions with long rows of trees not very far apart, which were put into holes in the ice when it was about four inches thick, and having frozen there, they stand quite firmly. They are for guiding people on stormy days and nights, when they can not see from shore to shore.

There are extensive coal mines about eight miles from us. Some of them are very deep under-ground, but others are not, but the coal is brought up a slope in wagons on wheels. I was up last winter, and saw the men and boys that work in the mines. They were terribly black with coal dust. Each of them carries a safety-lamp, which gives but a feeble light in such dark places. I was up two winters ago, and saw one of the places for myself. At one of the largest mines, about two years ago, there was an explosion, which killed forty men, and ruined the mine. It has never been worked since. For days and days you could see great clouds of smoke rising toward the skies from where we live. Our town is not large; there are only 4000 people in it. But we have some fine houses and public buildings. We have a $20,000 brick and stone academy, with 200 students. We have a railway connecting us with other places in the Dominion and the United States. My papa has travelled a good deal; he has been in Boston several times, and in New York and Philadelphia. He was at the Exhibition there in 1876. He thinks it was a bigger show than Barnum's Circus, which was here some years ago. I wish I could visit your great city, and see the East River Bridge, and the elevated railway, and Broadway, and all the other great sights.

Willie M. H.

Brooklyn, New York.

I don't believe that any of the subscribers of Harper's Young People enjoy reading it more than I do, though I can not read much for fear of hurting my eyes, so I read a little every day. When I was sick papa read it to me, as I could not read it then. I wish Mr. Otis would hurry, and give us the story he promised. I like Jenny Wren, or "The Little Dolls' Dressmaker," the best of any story in a long while. I have no little pets. Like a great many, I go to school, and have to study my lessons quite hard to know them. I received a very handsome album for advertisement cards Christmas. I hope my letter will be printed. Mamma says it will not, and I said it would; so please put it in the paper. I never wrote before.

Camille P.

No doubt the girls will all laugh with pleasure, and the boys throw up their caps with delight, when they see that Mr. Stubbs's Brother makes his bow in this very number. We expect he will be rather more popular than poor Mr. Stubbs, and that is saying a great deal. The story is very bright and entertaining, and Mr. Otis could not write a dull one if he tried, could he, children?

Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.

I am eight years old, and papa writes for me what I say in this letter. I have a doll, dressed in baby clothes, called Daisy. Mamma knit a pretty afghan for her of pink and white. She goes to sleep under it in her carriage. Mamma knit her a hammock. I have a larger doll, who is Daisy's mamma; her name is Violet. She has a muff and hat and shawl; the muff is made of cotton flannel, trimmed with silk. My boy doll Ray is the baby's papa. The baby doll's aunt, Doll Elsie, gave me Harper's Young People for a Christmas present.

Edna.

Shrewsbury, New Jersey.

I am a little girl eight years old, and have taken your nice paper for two years, and like it very much. This morning a dog came into our shed, and we let him into our house; he was a beautiful dog, with great long white silky hair, and great black spots over him; his ears were just as black and silky as could be. You said to tell about our pets and dolls, so I will. I have no pets except an old puss, which I love dearly—his name is Jack—but I have a lovely waxen doll with flaxen hair; her dress is of light blue satin and plum-color mixed; it is trimmed with lace. My papa is a traveller, and is away eight months a year; Please put this in the Post-office Box.

Annie L. P.

A CURE FOR CROSS LITTLE BOYS AND GIRLS.

One night we all were at the supper table. We were in a very bad humor, and did not know what to do with ourselves, and in a minute or two Aunt Sue said, "When we get up stairs we will have a growling party." We thought that would be a very good plan, as our aunts and grandma and mamma did not like noise at the table. So after supper we went up to the little sitting-room, and mamma told me to begin. I told them my collar was very stiff (to tell the truth, when Aunt Sue said a "growling party," I thought we were going to howl all the time). They all thought that was very funny, and asked me what else. I said that was all. Then they asked my sister Lucy what was the matter with her. She said she had the toothache and ear-ache and headache. Then mamma said she had a pain, and she might have something else. Then Aunt Sue said her head hurt, and Aunt Nell said her feet hurt, and Aunt Bessie said she had a sick headache. At last we began to laugh at so much misery, and that put us in a good humor right away. Now, whenever we are in a bad humor, we have a growling-party, for this is all a true story.

Helen D. F. (nine years old).

Please read Aunt Edna's letter, children. You will find it worth thinking about, and we slip it in like a sandwich between your own letters, instead of printing it in the column with the treasurer's report about the Cot, because we want you to pay attention to what this kind lady has to say.

To my dear little "Cot" Friends,—I want to write and tell you something very funny about the "mite chest" in our ward. You remember I told you I put one there; and last Ash-Wednesday—the first day of Lent, as many of you know—I thought I would take out what money was in it, so as to empty it again at Easter, when it would all be Lenten offerings. Sister Catherine told me when I went into the hospital that measles had broken out in our ward, and the little children had all been taken out. Those with the measles were put in a large room at the top of the house, so that they would be away from the rest, and the others were taken to a ward across the hall, and there I found Robert McGee, the little boy I told you of, who was to be in our Cot that is to be. He was just as merry as ever, and put his fat little legs out of the covers to show me how nice and straight they looked. As the mite chest had not taken the measles, I went into our ward to see how it was getting on. The room was very still, windows wide open at either end, the little beds unmade, with the mattresses turned over to air, and little red flannel socks or wrappers hanging on the posts of each crib. The only occupants of the ward were several large dolls, sitting quietly in their chairs, and to judge from their pale faces, they had not taken the measles. However, they did not seem to feel like talking—perhaps they were lonely without their little companions—so I left them, and went to our mite chest. As I took it up, a few pennies rattled, but that was all. But still it seemed to be full of something; so, looking closely, I found it was filled with little scraps of worsted. Some little hand, I imagine, thought the opening at the top looked inviting, so put in the worsted, and no doubt thought it fine fun; but we who are older, and know more, know very well that scraps of worsted won't endow our Cot. So while we will not trouble these little ones who put them there and enjoyed it, no doubt, as it helped to amuse and keep them from fretting while sick, we will work all the harder; we who can run, jump, and play heartily out-of-doors will try and think more of these little ones, ill and suffering, many of whom will never again be able to run, or play, but may have to suffer pain as long as they live.

Now, my dear little friends, I want to ask you all—those who have done so well thus far (and many of you have worked bravely)—not to stop yet; and those who have not yet begun to help us, to do so at once; for, remember we will have to do our share, and also the share of the little ones who give us only scraps of worsted.

Hoping all will do their best; I must say good-by, with love from

Aunt Edna. New York, March, 1882.

OUR KNOWING JEFF.

My father has a dog named Jeff. Harry, our little brother, will say, "Come, Jeff, take a ride." Jeff will jump into the wagon, Harry will pin a shawl around him, and he will sit and ride until Harry tires of drawing him. It is a comical sight to see those two going about the garden, Jeff sitting straight up with a shawl on, looking so patient.

Not long since Jeff had a sore foot. The first we knew of it he would keep coming in to us and holding one foot up. Sister got a pail of quite hot water, and put his foot in. He looked thankful for having it done. After soaking it long enough, we put some liniment on it, and bandaged it up. Thinking he was all right, we went up to our rooms; but as soon as Jeff found we had gone, he began to cry and whine dreadfully, so we came down and made him a new bed, and covered him. After leaving him, we heard no more from him that night.

For a week or more it was a comical sight to see him limp about the house on three legs, but out-of-doors he would run on all fours well enough. The very instant he entered the door, up would go one foot, not always the same that had been sore—he seemed to forget which one had been. We would say, "Jeff, that is not your lame foot." He would look ashamed, and walk off, only to return and look up at us; he would whine until spoken kindly to. Sometimes we would shake his paw, when he would walk away perfectly satisfied.

One of Jeff's Friends.

Custer City, Pennsylvania.

Glad to see my other letter in a book—the print not so big as mine, though. I sent it to Uncle Joe 'way off in California. He wrote me a poetry postal when I was a little fellow only a month old. That was ever so long 'go, but I have it yet; and some gold sand and lumps and stones that came to me from him.

I got a valentine of two gooses; one has a eye-glass on.

They torpedo oil wells here to break the oil loose from the stones. It flies more'n a hundred feet high, and sprinkles in the air, and looks like wet sunshine.

The girls and boys that send letters have dolls and cats to put in. Well, I have a dog, too, only it is brown cloth sewed 'round a lot of cotton. It looks 'zactly like a true dog, but its legs is so straight it can't run and bark.

Papa says you won't print two times 'bout me. Won't you 'bout Uncle Joe and the woollen dog anyway? It's nearly seven years old too, but I can read in the First Reader, and make letters like the ones here.

Joe A. V.

We think we would like your woolly dog much better, Joe, than we do a woolly one which belongs to a young lady we know, and keeps us awake at night by howling while his mistress is absent at a party or concert. Yours, we presume, is very well behaved.

Little friends who send us puzzles will please remember that they must always send the answers at the same time they inclose puzzles. Little folks who find our puzzles out must not omit their names, as we like to give them credit for their clever wits.

C. Y. P. R. U.

My Lady's Toilet.—This is a pretty game for a number of children to play some rainy day at recess when they can not go out of doors. To each of the performers is given the name of an article of dress. Chairs are placed for all the party except one, so as to leave one chair too few. All seat themselves but one, who is called the lady's-maid, and who stands in the centre. When the maid calls for any article of dress, the one who has that name instantly rises, repeats the word, and seats herself again directly. For instance, the maid says:

"My lady's up, and wants her dress."

"Dress!" says the one who hears that name, rising as she speaks, and sitting down again very quickly.

"My lady's up, and wants her brush."

"Brush!" says Brush, jumping up in a hurry, and sitting down again.

"My lady's up, and wants her handkerchief, watch, and chain."

Handkerchief, Watch, and Chain spring up together, and repeat their names.

"My lady's up, and wants her whole toilet."

At this every one must rise and change chairs. This makes necessary a general scramble, in which some little player is left standing without any chair. This person must take the place of lady's-maid.

Paul.—"Red tape" is used to tie official documents, and as there is often considerable delay in obtaining decisions from courts and public offices, people have come to speak of "too much red tape" as a convenient way of saying that things are not going on as fast as they would like.

Annie M.—School-girls make a great mistake, dear, in wishing to be young ladies too soon. If they could see how perfectly charming their lives look to older persons, and if they realized what delightful times they are having, they would not be in such haste to grow up. The Postmistress advises you to wear your hair in simple braids, to be contented with the pretty dresses your mother provides for you, and to wait until you shall have left school before you assume jewelry and gay ornaments.

We would call the attention of the C. Y. P. R. U. this week to an interesting article on botany, by Mrs. Herrick, entitled "Flowers in Fancy Dress." The girls—many of whom, we know, are anxious to master all the secrets of housekeeping—will be glad to read what Aunt Marjorie Precept has to say on the "Fine Art of Cooking." The boys will be interested in Mr. Hardwick's description of the game of "Rackets."

YOUNG PEOPLE'S COT.

Once more we have pleasure in presenting the monthly report of the treasurer of the fund for Young People's Cot. We trust our little readers will remember our hint about devoting an Easter offering to this beautiful charity.

We print a selection from the letters received by Miss E. Augusta Fanshawe, to whom contributions for the Cot should always be sent.

Dayton, Ohio.

I am a little boy only nine years old. Papa has taken Harper's Young People for us ever since the first number. We have two volumes bound. I have two sisters and one brother. I thought I would like to send something for the Cot, so here is a dollar. I earned it myself by doing errands.

Percy W. Hyers.

Madison, New Jersey.

Inclosed you will find a check for three dollars, which is a contribution from my little girl, Mary Louise Anderson, for the Young People's Cot. She has earned this money herself within a few weeks by drinking her milk and taking her medicine. For nine weeks she has been in bed. Before Christmas she was taken ill with typhoid fever, from which in four weeks she had recovered sufficiently to sit up a few hours every day. Then she had a relapse, followed by what seemed at first to be neuralgia, but which has proved to be a slight inflammation of the hip-joint. She has been a great sufferer, but is more comfortable now. She has not been out of bed for nearly four weeks, and has an extension on her limb and a weight of three pounds. We hope she will be quite well in a month or perhaps longer, but still it is all a matter of hope. During her illness she was once so near death that it seemed but a matter of moments when she would go. I fear I have trespassed upon your time in thus writing, but you will understand that this money is a real offering of love and peculiar sympathy. My little girl was eight years old on the first day of January.

Mary's Mother.

It was very sweet in little Mary to forget her own great pain in trying to provide for the comfort of some other little sufferers in days to come. We hope she will very soon indeed be perfectly well again.

Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

We inclose $1.50 for the Young People's Cot. We have been saving this money for a long time. We could have sent it sooner, only every now and then we see something that we want, and we take a few pennies to buy it. When we do take any money for ourselves, though, we are 'most always sorry. We feel very sorry for the little ones who are sick and have no pleasant homes. We are much interested in all the letters about the Cot. We hope you will soon have enough money to put a little boy or girl in the Cot. We will try to save some more money to send. We have a pet bird; he is very tame. Good-by.

Charlotte C. Eleanor B. C.

Fort Union, New Mexico.

My papa gave me a dollar to buy a pair of slippers, and I thought I would do without them, and send the money to Young People's Cot.

Margaret R. McNamara.

Brooklyn, New York.

I send you twenty-five cents, which I have earned myself, for the Young People's Cot. I will send more by-and-by, as I earn it, for mamma says little people should earn the money they send. I want to help reach the "clump of elms." I feel so sorry for the little sick children. I like Young People so much!

Bessie W.

Contributions received for Young People's Cot, in Holy Innocent's Ward, St. Mary's Free Hospital for Children, 407 West Thirty-fourth Street:

Isabel Ross and Ethelwynne Kate Maclean, Winnipeg, Manitoba, $3; Laura May and Albert C. Davies, Marion, Iowa, $1; M. Fannie and Thomas B. Peck, Jun., New York, $5; Mrs. S. Lawrence, New York, $5; Margaret R. McNamara, Fort Union, New Mexico, $1; Bessie W., Brooklyn, 25c.; Mary Louise Anderson, Madison, $3' Eddie N. and Arthur M. Anketell, New Haven, 28c.; Rev. G. G. Carter, New York, $5; Percy W. Hyers, Dayton, Ohio, $1; Josephine W. Kingsland, New York, 50c.; Wallace Morgan, New York, 50c.; Mrs. G. G. Carter's Sunday-school Class, Church of the Transfiguration, $4; Charlotte and Eleanor B. Campbell, Milwaukee, $1.50; M. J. C., 25c.; from "Mamma and Willie," New York, $5.10; A Little Boy and Girl from Cuba, $2; Anna M. Buzzell, Barrington, Vt., 10c.; Worthington S. Tilford, St. Albans, Vt., $1; total, $39.48. Previously acknowledged, $258.04; grand total, March 15, $297.52.

Received from Samuel Lee Ingram, Missouri, two pictures; and from Florence R. Hall, Woodbury, N. J., one doll.

E. Augusta Fanshawe, Treasurer, 43 New St.

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

CONCEALMENTS.

1. Hidden Trees.—1. Will you help Amy? 2. That is a high crib. 3. Even I prefer the other. 4. I am less studious than you are.

2. Hidden Places.—1. It is strange no abler advocate could be found to plead this cause. 2. Was that a knock? It Is papa, then, surely. 3. At a barbecue they have roasted ox for dinner. 4. O ma, haven't I been good to-day? The teacher marked me only once.

B. J. L.

No. 2.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC.

1. A famous African tree. 2. A great white water-lily. 3. To recede. 4. A small fort. 5. Shining with shifting color. 6. The American ostrich. 7. A young unfledged hawk. Primals and finals are two favorite spring flowers.

Mother Bunch.

No. 3.

TRANSFORMATIONS.

1. I am a rascal. Behead me, I am soldiers' quarters.

2. I am a garment. Behead me, I am a grain.

3. I am a tiny spot. Behead me, I am a measure.

4. I am an instrument of punishment. Behead me, I am an inclosure.

5. I grow in every garden. Behead me, I threaten.

6. I am a medicine. Behead me, I am an instrument necessary to civilization.

7. I am essential to beauty. Behead me, I am a contest.

8. I am an expression of scorn. Behead me, I am a relative.

9. I am a spice. Behead me, I am a unit.

10. I am something girls do. Behead me, I am used for skating.

11. I keep out the weather. Behead me, I produce.

12. I express greediness. Behead me, I am a testament.

M. V. M. and I. V. M.

No. 4.

NUMERICAL ENIGMA.

I am composed of 11 letters.

My 1, 2, 3 is an article.

My 4, 5, 6 is a girl's name.

My 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 is a fortunate lady.

My whole is a poem by Tennyson.

Bright Eyes.

No. 5.

ENIGMA.

My first is in Philip, but is not in James.

My second in Arthur, but is not in Joe.

My third is in Robert, but not in Eugene.

My fourth is in Rosa, but is not in Flo.

My fifth is in Oscar, but not in Katrine.

My sixth is in Thomas, but is not in Clo.

And I am a bird you would all like to know.

James Eugene M.

No. 6.

TWO EASY DIAMONDS.

1.—1. A letter. 2. A utensil. 3. An elevation. 4. Conclusion. 5. A letter.

2.—1. A letter. 2. To permit. 3. One of the United States. 4. To knock. 5. A letter.

Sam Weller, Jun.

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 124.

No. 1.

"Wealth gotten by vanity shall be diminished, but he that gathereth by labor shall increase."

Bath. Thyme. Hearth. Sabbath. Bullion. Heather. Battledore. Coleridge. Gymnasium. Lawn tennis. Honesty. Vigilance.

No. 2.

Box. Brush. Hand. Limp. Sweep. Bracket. Clove. Pill. Chair. Brook. Blot.

No. 3.

HANDHEAR

AREAEASE

NEARASIA

DAREREAR

No 4.

Snowball.

No 5.

Penmanship.

No 6.

RH

ROESIP

ROUGHHIVES

EGGPEN

HS

Correct answers to puzzles have been received from "Dimple Darling," Ezra Burt, Blanche P. Hayward, "Fill Buster," Charles F. Wagner, Belle Van Buskirk, Charlie Jones, Max Frost, Susie Passmore, Earle Jessup, "Ben Bolt," Alice Chisholm, Kenneth McGovern, E. C. A., Henry Berlan, Jun.

[For Exchanges, see 2d and 3d pages of cover.]