Part 1 — OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.

"Green gravel, green gravel, how green the grass grows!"

A ring of little boys and girls were singing this the other evening, their hands joined, and their faces flushed with the merry exercise. A lady who was looking at them said to the Postmistress:

"Dear me, that sight takes me a long way back into the past. Fifty years ago I used to sing that song with my little brothers and sisters, and we played just as those children do. It seems like yesterday."

Green gravel! The Postmistress understands why the grass is said to be green. It has been just as bright and soft as it now is every summer that she can remember, but she never saw green gravel. Did you?

Seargeant Bluffs, Iowa.

My papa made me a present of Harper's Young People. I enjoy the stories very much, and especially the letters. My mamma taught me to sew my papers before reading them. I am a little girl eight years old. I go to school, and have four studies—arithmetic, geography, reading, and spelling. I have taken one term in music lessons. I am learning how to do fancy-work. The first work I did was a motto, and now I am making a toilet set for my room. It is made of white honeycomb canvas, and worked with blue worsted. I also do many little things to help my mamma. My pets are a canary-bird named Fritz, who sings very sweetly, a tabby cat, and a little baby brother, the sweetest of all. His name is Arthur. He has learned lots of cunning things. I will tell you some of them. He can tell all the animals on his blocks, and pat-i-cake, and knock at the door, and lift up the latch. He is a year and a half old.

Clara A. H.

Kiss Arthur for me, please. Tell mamma the Postmistress thinks little Clara must be a clever little helper.

Colorado Springs, Colorado.

We came here from Vermont because papa was sick, and we have been in Colorado about two years. We can see a good many mountains from this place. Pike's Peak is the highest, and Cameron's Cone is a mountain next to Pike's Peak. There is also a mountain called Mount Garfield, which was named for President Garfield soon after he was shot.

I have three little boats, and I sail them in the irrigating ditches. I haven't any pets, but am trying to tame some gophers which live under a little store-house on our grounds. They are something like chipmunks, but not so pretty. Sometimes we see and hear a robin, and it makes us very happy, because it seems like home; and when I am gathering flowers I now and then find a dandelion, and we are all glad to see it, for the same reason. We find beautiful flowers here; lupins are the most common just now, and there are some flowers much like the buttercups we used to see at home.

My birthday was the 5th of May. I was eight years old. I had some nice presents—Tom Brown's School-Days, and a scrap-book made by the directions in Harper's Young People No. 122, a beautiful two-bladed knife, and a birthday cake with nine candles on it—one for each year, and one to grow on. Mamma took me to Manitou for a birthday treat; and if I did not think it would make my letter too long, I would like to tell you about Manitou. It is right at the foot of Pike's Peak, and there are mineral springs there bubbling up out of stone basins, and wonderful cañons leading into the mountains in every direction, in which beautiful flowers grow, and there is a large cave with more than seventy rooms in it. We pass the famous "Garden of the Gods" in going there.

I made a cross-word enigma, which I send you. Please print my letter.

Edward Dana S.

I hope you will succeed in taming the gophers. What a delightful birthday you had! It will help you to be happy all the year. Perhaps some little reader may be puzzled to know what an irrigating ditch means. It is a ditch dug for the purpose of holding water which is brought to it from some river or lake. By means of little sluice-gates this water is turned over the meadows or pastures, which would otherwise be dry and parched. In parts of our country where the climate is dry, and rain seldom falls, or falls only in what is called the rainy season, farmers have to irrigate their ground in this way.

Plainfield, New Jersey.

I thought I would write you about our little chickens without a mother; she died when the chickens were ten days old. We put them in a big box with a feather duster, and brought them in by the fire; they all cuddled under the duster, and are doing beautifully, and are growing big and fat. If any boys or girls have young chickens that have lost their mother, they should put them in a warm place with a feather duster. I think Young People is lovely.

Josie L. M.

Savannah, Georgia.

I have a pony whose name is Dixie. He eats molasses candy, and follows me around the yard to get it. When a gate is shut tight, he can open it with his teeth. I am eight years old, and mamma is writing this for me, because I am just learning to write.

Albert R.

Morrison, Illinois.

I have just been reading some of the letters in Our Post-office Box, and it came into my head to write one myself, though I am not at all sure it will ever be published. I have always attended a private school until lately, when my dear teacher went to Wisconsin to live, so now I study at home. I enjoy the paper very much, especially the Jimmy Brown stories. Even papa likes to look at the pictures in it. I have no brothers or sisters, but I have a cousin, only a little older than I am, who lives next door to me, and we are almost like sisters. I do want some kind of pet so much, and none of us can think of any except papa, who says I might have a monkey, but I don't know about that. Can you think of some pet suitable for a little girl ten years old?

Kate E.

Some little girl of Kate's age may answer this question.

Inland, Ohio.

I thought I would write to you and tell you about my pets. I have a Scotch terrier by the name of Cap; he is very black. When he wants to get into the house he will stand on the porch and bark. Then if we do not let him in, he will go to the other door and bump against it. If we do not let him in then, he will go under the house or out to the barn. I have a canary-bird whose name is Dick. He sings every time we sew on the sewing-machine. I am a little girl nine years old. I help mamma to wash the dishes and sweep the floor. I am sewing carpet rags to-day. My brother is writing this letter for me. We all think that "Mr. Stubbs's Brother" is very interesting. "Toby Tyler" was the best juvenile story ever written; that is, if you leave the judging to our family. I hope this is not too long to be printed.

Arlin Edith H.

Palisade, Nevada.

I am a reader of your paper, and like it very much. I am interested in "Mr. Stubbs's Brother." I read "Toby Tyler" in a book some time ago, and liked it very much. I was glad to find out that "Toby" and "Mr. Stubbs's Brother" were the same, and that I would learn more about the funny boy and his droll experiences.

I notice that the little girls tell about their pets. All I have are a dear little baby sister, an old cat, and a canary-bird that sings sweetly. One day an accident happened to it; its leg was broken, which made it very sad for a while. I attend school regularly, but our school will close soon, and then the scholars will have fun roaming over the hills for wild flowers. Good-by.

T. N. M.

The little lovers of puss are numbered by thousands, and every one of them will stroke his or her own pet for Rosie's sake after reading this pretty story:

Among the many pets we kept years ago, when living in the country, were a beautiful but rather wild-natured cat and an aviary of doves.

Judge of the dismay with which we found one morning that Rosie had been shut up all night with these doves, and was even then lying in an inner cage fast asleep in the same nest with two unfledged little birds.

Of course the first impression was that Rosie had made a supper off some of the inmates of the aviary, but, on counting them, not one was missing, and the involuntary prisoner on being released was found to be ravenously hungry, which made her forbearance in the matter all the more extraordinary, and may well be noted as a wonderful piece of self-denial.

Austen, Texas.

This is the first year I have been taking your paper, and I like it very much. Our home is called Honeysuckle Glen, because we have so many honeysuckles; our yard is full of them. We have a great many different kinds of birds that are building nests all around in the trees and bushes in the yard. There is an old watering-pot hanging out in the yard in one of the trees, and a pretty little wren has built her nest in it. I am eleven years old, and I have a sweet little sister two years old, with soft golden curls, fair skin, and blue eyes. We have a sweet little canary, and it sings beautifully. I have not the first numbers of "Talking Leaves." I am saving my papers up, as I expect to have them bound some time. The new Capitol building is progressing; it is going to be a grand building. The old Capitol burned down last November, and I saw the fire; it was a beautiful yet sad sight.

Nellie B.

A USEFUL GANDER.

In a little village in Germany a gander used to lead a blind old woman to church every Sunday, dragging her along and holding her gown in its beak. As soon as she was seated in her pew the old fellow walked into the church-yard, where he staid until the service was over; then he appeared at the door, ready to lead his mistress home. One day a friend called on the old lady, and was surprised to find that she had gone out. "Oh," said her little grandchild, "there is nothing to fear; the gander will take care of her."

THE LAMB AND THE PONY.

A curious friendship once existed between a lamb and a pony. The lamb, which was purchased by a farmer in England from a passing shepherd, was very wild, and grieved at being separated from the flock. It was an odd, sturdy-looking creature with a black face. The farmer put it in a meadow in company with a cow and a little white pony. The lamb took no notice of the cow; but the pony seemed to captivate its heart at once. Wherever the one went, the other followed. If people gathered, as was natural, to look at the companions, the lamb would slip under the pony and pop out its head between his fore or hind legs with an air of perfect security. At night it went regularly to the stable, and slept in the manger near its favorite. If, as sometimes happened, the pony was taken to draw the farmer's wife to market, the lamb bleated pitifully all the time it was away, and frisked about joyfully on its return.

One day, to test its love, its owner carried the lamb to a pasture where a flock of sheep was grazing. The pony went too. In the course of the day the farmer came after the pony, and mounting him, rode homeward. Presently he looked behind. Yes, there came the shaggy black-faced lamb, forsaking its own kindred, and rushing on its eager legs to overtake its adopted friend.

Whether the pony returned this affection we do not know. It neither resented it nor appeared weary of it, at all events.

Paris Hill, Maine.

I am only seven years old, and can not write very well, but I want to tell you how much I like Harper's Young People. My grandfather gave it to me for a Christmas present. I read the stories to my mother. I liked "The Little Dolls' Dressmaker" so much! I was sorry when it was finished. My home is in the highest village in Maine, and we can see the White Mountains against the sky in the distance. I do not go to school; my mother teaches me at home. I am afraid I have written too much. Good-by.

Maynard M.

The Postmistress thinks that Bessie Alexander has written a very pretty story about Carlos and the mermaid. But the story would have been prettier still had the little boy come to life again here on earth. Make it a rule, dear young contributors, to let your stories end happily. As many smiles and as few tears as possible, little dears:

CARLOS AND THE QUEEN SEA-SHELL.

It was sunset. The last rays of the sun were cast over the placid waters of the Mediterranean Sea, and lit up its surface with its rosy light. In one of the many vessels which traversed its waters was, among the other passengers, a child, a little Italian boy, Carlos Arditi. He was in the care of his uncle, who was taking him to his mother in Italy. Little Carlos then lay peacefully sleeping in his little berth.

How different was the scene from that which took place two hours later! The wind was blowing a terrific hurricane, and all was confusion on board the ship. The Captain tried in vain to make the sailors hear his commands, and even through the speaking-trumpet it was impossible to hear him above the noise of the tempest. All efforts to save the good ship were useless, and it soon fell on its side, while the wind was blowing with terrific force. Some people were clinging to the ship, while others were struggling in the water, among whom was little Carlos. He had just taken hold on a broken spar, when he saw a beautiful lily-white hand come up out of the water by his side. It took him by the waist, and drew him below the waves. When he was under-water he saw that a lovely mermaid had taken him down to the bottom of the sea.

"I am the mermaid Queen Sea-shell," said she, in a voice which murmured like a little brook which flows over the pebbles at its bottom. "And," she added, "you are to stay with me, and you shall never return to earth again. You will not find me unkind, and you shall play in my beautiful garden, eat of the delicious fruits, and pick all the flowers which grow there."

Until this time Carlos had remained silent. Now he said:

"Oh, dear Queen, I would stay with you, and oh, how happy would I be! but remember the madre watching for her Carlos to come. If I have anything good enough for you to take, take it in return, but I must see the dear madre again."

"As you say, child," replied the mermaid. "Give me thy voice, and thou shalt go. But first sing."

Carlos raised his large brown eyes to Sea-shell's face, and began. The childish voice rose sweet and clear, but when the song was finished Sea-shell shook her head.

"The waves sing as well as that," she said. "But list, child, give me thyself as thou art on earth, and thou shalt go home."

Carlos did not answer; he only looked up at the sweet face before him. He did not understand her. Suddenly an overpowering drowsiness came over him, and he shut his eyes. When he awoke he was still by Sea-shell, but no longer a mortal child, but a beautiful spirit.

"Come, Carlos," then said Sea-shell; "you are going home."

Then she wrapped him in her loving embrace, and carried him far away above the mighty waters, and still farther up among the clouds.

"Where am I going, dear Queen?" asked Carlos.

"To your home, child," answered Sea-shell; "and your home to you now, little one, is heaven."

"But the madre?" he asked, eagerly.

"The madre will be with you," replied the Queen.

And the mermaid's promise came true.

Bessie Alexander, Philadelphia.

C. Y. P. R. U.

Most girls are fond of the needle, and enjoy the housekeeping duties which fall naturally under womanly care. Here and there, however, we find one who prefers to use a hammer and nails, to make boxes, hang pictures, and mend broken tables and chairs. There is nothing wrong in indulging such tastes, if you have them. In Atlanta, Georgia, there is a young lady who practices the art of making shoes. Not long ago a gentleman sent his little nephew with a pair of boots to be mended, directing him to go to the nearest place. Returning, the child astonished his uncle by remarking that "she" said so and so. Then it was discovered that there was in the neighborhood a young girl under twenty years of age, the daughter of a shoemaker, who daily works at the trade herself, not only mending, but making in good style both boots and shoes. For several years she has thus been engaged, and has won the respect and patronage of a large circle of appreciative families. We think this clever young girl deserves great praise.

To Puzzlers.—In sending your puzzles please state whether you wish to have your full name, your initials, or your nom de plume appear. Do not make puzzles on the names of great and good men who have lately died. We can not use the names of Longfellow, Emerson, or Dean Stanley in puzzles, acrostics, or enigmas. By doing so we should show a lack of proper veneration for the poets and thinkers whose death has made the world sorrowful.

Constant Reader.—The Bazar Book of Decorum, published at $1 by Messrs. Harper & Brothers, is a manual of information on the subject which interests you. There is also a valuable book entitled Social Etiquette and Home Culture, which is published in the "Franklin Square Library." Its price is 20 cents, and it touches very pleasantly on most points which concern good manners.

Little folks who love to play with the skipping-rope should not try to jump too long at a time. "Keeping up" to fifty, sixty, or a hundred without resting is violent exercise, and dangerous to health.

We would call the attention of the C. Y. P. R. U. this week to Part I. of Mr. James Payn's description of the terrible scenes that followed the wreck of the English ship Wager, told under the head of "Peril and Privation." The story of "A Little Duke," by Mrs. Elizabeth Abercrombie, gives an interesting picture of the life of a royal child in the seventeenth century. One of the most remarkable incidents that ever occurred in a sea-faring life is told under the head of "Saved by an Albatross." What Mr. Roberts has to say about "Preparing for Fourth of July" will, we know, set a great many busy fingers to work, the result being some very pleasant effects in the way of illumination on the evening of the great day.

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

TWO WORD SQUARES.

1.—1. A desolate country. 2. To decorate. 3. Compact. 4. A moment. 5. One who finishes.

Empire City.

2.—1. A holy person. 2. A marksman. 3. An idea. 4. A drink. 5. A ringlet.

Will A. Mette.

No. 2.

NUMERICAL CHARADE—(To Empire City).

My 1, 2, 3, 4 is an animal, so I've heard.

My 5, 6, 7 is an animal, not a bird.

My whole is a kind of cloth; now, mind,

In Webster's book its name you will find.

Will A. Mette.

No. 3.

NUMERICAL ENIGMA.

My whole ought to be found in every house, and I am composed of 18 letters.

My 1, 2, 6, 4 is a musical instrument.

My 18, 2, 12, 17, 5 is a bird of prey.

My 8, 15, 10 is a pronoun.

My 7, 10, 12, 2, 3 is sweet.

My 13, 9, 14 is the name of a poet.

Eureka.

No. 4.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC.

1. A Spanish word which means chalk. 2. A girl's name. 3. Permission. 4. Creeping vines. 5. A girl's name. 6. A vessel. Primals and finals compose the name of a celebrated Roman soldier and conqueror.

G. E.

No. 5.

THREE DIAMONDS.

1.—1. A letter. 2. Something that does not like the sun. 3. A kind of nut. 4. A period. 5. A letter.

Marion.

2.—1. A letter. 2. To recline. 3. A journal. 4. To wander. 5. A letter.

3.—1. In spice. 2. Owed. 3. Bright. 4. Conclusion. 5. In youth.

Robin Adair.

No. 6.

BEHEADINGS.

1. I am an article of dress; behead me, and no family should be without me.

2. I am what a boy's knife ought to be; behead me, and I am a musical instrument.

3. I am a vessel; behead me, and I am part of the human body.

4. I am always to be found in a good dairy; behead me, and I am a stationer's measure.

5. I am something useful on the table; behead me, and I am what no boy should be at school.

6. I am a wild animal; behead me, and no boat should be without me.

7. I am a motion of the eye; behead me, and I am a useful fluid.

8. I am useful when one wishes to cross a river; behead me, and I am part of a mountain.

Roger Derby.

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 136.

No. 1.

M-ark. F-rank. E-ben. E-van. O-bed. O-liver. T-heron. O-scar. K-ate. M-abel. O-live. G-race.

No. 2.

America.

PC

CATTOM

PARISCOMET

TINMEN

ST

No. 4.

Chattanooga.

Correct answers to puzzles have been received from Florence, Mabel, and Annie Knight, "North Star," "Little Lizzie," Mary and Helen, Julia, Edgar Seeman, Nelse Walton, Imogene Starr, Ella Dana, Maggie Phillips, Richard Towers, Robbie and Freddie, "Twin Sisters," Carrie B. Kunkel, Carrie V. Latimer. Mabel Sykes, Elvira Urisarri, Francis Arrowsmith, Raymond Lincolnton, "Eureka," Harry Johnston, S. Brewster, John Trotwood, Viola La Mont, Elsie Dee, Jack Chandler, William Holmes, Tom, "Albatross," "Fern Heather," Margaret Lamb, Marion, "A. B. C.," and Jacob D. Jais.

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

COACHING.