Tom, Tom, the piper's son,
Learned to play when he was young.
And with his pipe made such a noise,
That he pleased all the girls and boys.

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Now that the leaves are falling, and the wind is whistling round the eaves and roaring down the chimneys, we must think of pleasant things to do in-doors. Who likes to toss a bean-bag back and forth? We know of no exercise so simple, so easy, and so well calculated to develop the muscles of the arms and chest as this pretty, graceful game of throwing the bean-bag. Take some strong calico from your mother's piece-bag, and make a square case of any size you please, sewing it all up except one little space, into which you must pour your beans. Having done this, sew up that corner tightly, and your bag will be made. Two or three bean-bags will be necessary if there are several young people to enjoy the frolic. A good time for this special game is the last half-hour before dusk, and if you can coax mamma and auntie to join you, all the better.

Jack-stones are favorites with many children. Little silk bags filled with rice are sometimes substituted for stones in this game. They make a sweet and musical swishing sound as they are thrown up and caught.

The little girls who have china dolls might make very cunning pen-wipers by taking eight pieces of gay flannel or merino—from mother's piece-bag again—cutting them into a circular shape, and folding twice, stitch them around Miss Dolly, who will then look precisely like a fairy in fluted petticoats.

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Prescott, Ontario, Canada.

You have asked the children to tell of their amusements, so we send you a game called "Genteel Lady." You must have a number of twisted papers made to represent horns. For each mistake that a player may make, a horn is stuck in the hair. The game begins by one of the party saying to her neighbor on the right hand, "Good-morning, genteel lady, always genteel. I, a genteel lady always, come from that genteel lady always genteel" (pointing to the person on her left hand) "to tell you that she has an eagle with a golden beak." This is repeated by the next girl, who must add something to the last phrase, but must keep strictly to the formal introduction. It is quite likely that she will make a mistake, and if she does, she is immediately to receive a horn. After this she will be called "the one-horned lady, always one-horned," until she shall receive another horn, when she will be called "the two-horned," etc. Each person who repeats what has been last said without making a mistake must add something—as silver claws, diamond eyes, raven plumage, or whatever else she chooses—to the description of the eagle. At the end the horns, which are regarded as forfeits, are all ransomed.

We like the stories in Young People very much indeed.

Fannie and Annie.

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New York City.

I have written before to your paper, and shall be very much disappointed if this goes into that dreadful waste-basket into which my first letter must have gone, for I have heard nothing from it. I have taken Young People for nearly a year, and think it is a splendid paper. I spent my vacation this summer at Hempstead, Long Island. I caught several turtles. I visited Garden City, and saw the cathedral and other noted buildings. I am very fond of animals. I have a black cat named Ned. I had a greyhound named Golden, but he died in a fit while I was away this summer. I have also a gold-fish. I read the account of President Garfield's boyhood in Young People. I hope we boys will profit by his example.

Albert W.T.

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The following letter will show country boys how a city boy of ten, who had spent all his life in a large hotel, enjoyed his first visit to a village where he could play in the fields, and enjoy the society of other boys in out-of-door sports. He sent an account of his experience to his parents, who have kindly allowed us to print it in Our Post-office Box.

Plainfield, Illinois.

Dear Father and Mother,—I am having lots of fun with Harry F., Lester S., Willie R., and Clint H. at recess. These are the boys who go to school. At recess we play lasso, and tree-tag, and pussy in the corner. Papa, I rode Kit day before yesterday night in the dark to Plainfield, and yesterday I rode her to Plainfield and all around Robert's house. I went out in the corn field to see Robert husk corn. Then when I went home to uncle's, he wanted me to go and get the cows; but I could only find the calves, though I looked all over for them; then I drove the calves, and uncle and I went to look for the cows, but he went afoot, and I went on horseback; and I saw one in the corn, and I went there, and I saw four cows, and I drove them home all alone, and I was so busy I did not shut the bars, and uncle wanted me to go back alone and shut the bars. Dear father, I appreciate the popper and corn, and two days ago I popped a panful, and the boys and I ate it out in the yard, and had a good time. To-day I popped a panful, and Wallace and I ate a little of it, and saved the rest, and I have got it now popped. Dear papa, I learned to husk corn to-day, and yesterday I helped uncle churn to make butter. Oh, mamma, there are lots of girls go to school over here, and have a lot of fun. I can ride terribly fast on Kit. I borrow Mr. McClellan's saddle and bridle. Oh, mamma, the seat of my pants is nearly all torn off, and I have no others. I wish I could get them fixed. Can you tell me how I can, mamma? The boys think a great deal of me—I know they do. Oh, papa, I guess I will get fat pretty soon, because I eat about ten sweet-potatoes, a lot of chicken, and toast at every meal. If I stay much longer, I will want some more money—about fifty cents.

Very truly, your son,
Wallace.

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London, England.

I have often thought I should like to write to the readers of Harper's Young People. I live in London, England. Harper's Young People is given to us by a very kind American gentleman who lives in London. I have two sisters, named Eleanor and Maud, and three brothers, named Francis, Charles, and Edward. We all thought that "Toby Tyler" was delightful. I am in the Telegraph School in London; I expect some day when I get into an office I shall send telegrams to America; I do not think I like any English magazine so well as Harper's Young People. I am very fond of reading the letters in the Post-office Box. I was very sorry to hear of the sad death of President Garfield, and the day that he was buried I went to hear the bells of St. Paul's Cathedral ring. They ring only when great people die. They were muffled, and sounded so very solemn! It seemed as if one of our own great men had died. I never remember anything like it. It seemed as if every one was in mourning.

Marion H.

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Beloit, Wisconsin.

I want to tell Young People what a nice trip we had on Lake Michigan this summer. There were papa, mamma, my sister, my two aunts, my uncle, and myself. At first we went on the cars to Racine; then we went on board the Muskegan. At first I did not know what to think of finding myself on such a large steamboat. We went to Milwaukee, then to Sheboygan, Jacksonport, Escanaba, and up to Green Bay. We had fair weather all the time, and that made it delightful. At most of the places we got off the boat, and rambled about. There was another little girl on the boat just about my sister's age. We had lots of fun playing doll and telling stories and riddles. One evening papa, that other little girl, whose name is Mabel, and myself, were on deck, and began telling stories and riddles. There were some little bits of boys and girls there who had some knit horse-reins, and liked to have us drive them. We went up on the hurricane-deck, and looked upon the water. We came home well pleased with our trip.

S. Belle C. (aged 9).

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Kelloggsville, Ohio.

I am a little girl twelve years old. I have got a little dog named Trip; I have a little harness, and I drive him. I have a little squirrel named Chickery. I and two of my friends went chestnutting, and got six nuts apiece. I have a little sister named Leva. Maybe I will take Harper's Young People next year. My little friend takes it, and I like it very much. I hope I may see my letter printed.

Gracie H.

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Kelloggsville, Ohio.

I, too, am twelve years old. I take Young People, and I like "Toby Tyler" and "Tim and Tip" the best. I have a little bird named Billy, and a doll named Jennie. I have not any brothers or sisters, but a dear little Cousin Ralph. I go to school, and study reading, arithmetic, geography, and spelling.

Katie M.

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Rush City, Minnesota.

I am ten years old, and I have a little pony, and her name is Topsy. My papa says she is buckskin-color, but I think she is golden. And I had two pet rabbits, one black and one white, and papa had a puppy bird dog that broke loose and ate them both up, and I could not find them. One day I went out-doors and found their ears. We had a wild canary's nest in a maple-tree in our yard, and mamma got one of the birds, and it sings more than our tame one. I attend school, and study geography, arithmetic, Fourth Reader, grammar, spelling, and writing. I am the youngest in all my classes, but still keep a little ahead. I like the stories in Young People very much.

Anna L.P.

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Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

I have written to you once before; but not having seen my letter published, I thought I would try again. Papa has taken Young People for my brother Harry and me since the first number came out. We take turns about reading it first. Harry has it first one week, and I get it first the next week. Papa made that rule because we both wanted it at once. We were so anxious to read about poor Toby Tyler! Papa read to us out of the paper about the boat that is called for him. We have two cats. The older one will not let us pet her at all, but the other is very gentle. We once had a cat that used to get on grandma's shoulder and take off her glasses, and she used to mind two little guinea-pigs we had. If she thought they got too far from the house, she would chase them back; and when papa brought them home she thought they were kittens, for she used to cuddle them up to her; and if they got frightened, they would run and get under her. When cold weather came, we sent them to the Zoological Garden, as we had no place to keep them, and grandma said the gray cat ought to have gone to take care of them. Mamma says she sees only one defect in Young People; that is, the date is not conspicuous enough. I am afraid I am making my letter too long. I would like to write more. On Sunday, the 23d of October, I will be eleven years old.

Annie R.H.

As the date is always in the same place, and you know where to look for it, it does not need to be very conspicuous for bright young eyes like yours.

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Louisville, Kentucky.

Frank and I are two little boys who live in Louisville. We take your paper, and like it so much! I don't know which I like best, "Tim and Tip" or "Talking Leaves"; but Frank likes to read the letters from the boys and girls, and we want to tell them about our squirrels. We have had them about six months. They live in a large tin cage with a wheel, and they are so gentle they will eat from our hands, and come out of their house when we call "Bunny." We feed them ourselves, and they know us. I hope you will put this letter in your Box.

Mason.

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I live in the country about three miles from Scottsville, New York. I have for pets one dog named Sport, four cats—their names are Jim, Prince, Tramp, and Hayes—one cow named Snowball, one calf named Strawberry, and one pony named Nellie. I am staying at my grandma's for my health. My grandpa owns a large farm, and keeps horses, cows, and other animals. I would like to exchange 100 postmarks (no duplicates, and some rare), for thirty foreign stamps, or forty-five picture-cards (no duplicates). One stone from New York, for one foreign stamp. Please write before sending.

Florence Pope, Scottsville, Monroe Co., N.Y.

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Community, New York.

I wrote to Young People a long time ago, but have never seen the letter in print, so I will try again.

I like Harper's Young People very much indeed, and I think "Tim and Tip" is just splendid. I hope to take this paper another year.

I have a kitty, and when I go to the shed to feed her, she will jump up on a stone that serves as a table, and wait patiently for what I have to give her. My little friend Beatrice, two years old, is very fond of this kitty, and will come out and say, "Good-morning, kitty," and "Good-by, kitty," of her own accord.

It is fair-day at Oneida, and, if pleasant, Miss Nellie Thurston will make a balloon ascension this afternoon at 4 o'clock.

I am nine years old, and have a sister Christine six years old.

Gertrude H.

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I live on the banks of the Ohio River, opposite Constance, Boone County, Kentucky. Just opposite our house is the mouth of the little creek which separates Boone County from Kenton County, Kentucky. I have a little black dog named Moses, and a cat named Mrs. Nellie de Garmo Taliaferro. My father's office is in Cincinnati. He brings me the Young People every Wednesday, and I go to the dÉpÔt to meet him. My name is Bennie E.H., and I shall be nine years old the 20th of October.

We hope you had a happy birthday.

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Peoria, Kansas.

I have three brothers and one sister, and myself am eleven years old. I have a great big doll, and her name is Mollie; and a cunning little one, and her name is Jessie. I let my little brothers play with them. My papa is the postmaster. My sister is fourteen years old. She would like to exchange flower seeds with some of the girls, and she has four different kinds.

Eva W. Bateman.

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Scranton, Pennsylvania.

We wanted mamma to write and tell you about our dog Gip. When he is out-doors and wants to come in, he goes to the front door and rings the bell. I wonder if any of the other children who take Young People have such a smart dog. We have a little goat that came here last week, and it follows us all over.

Georgie and Bessie S.

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Lynn, Massachusetts.

My uncle has taken Young People for his "brood of little folks," as he calls his nephews and nieces, since the first number. The brood are my cousins Willie and Grace, my sister Florence, and myself—all of whom are old enough to read—also my two sisters and brother, Mattie, Hattie, and Clarence, who are too young yet to read, but who like very much to look at the pictures, and to whom we read the stories. I have never seen a letter in Young People from any of its many readers in Lynn, so I thought I would write one. My uncle has two fine yellow cats, striped like tigers. Their names are Toby Tyler and Jimmy Brown. Every morning Toby goes to the door that opens on the stairway leading to my uncle's room, and mews and rattles the latch until some one opens the door and lets him run up to the apartment. As soon as Toby gets there he jumps up on the bed, and wakes my uncle up by pawing him in the face; and one morning he sat down on my uncle's face. I am twelve years old.

Ida May C.

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Newark, New Jersey.

We have two little kittens, the very prettiest kittens I ever saw. We have been rowing a great many times this summer, and I have learned to row and to swim.

Sidney W.A.

We wish all the boys, and the girls too, would learn to swim, if they live near the water. Swimming is easily learned, and once learned, is never forgotten.

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C.Y.P.R.U.

The first story which I shall relate in outline to the readers of this column was written a quarter of a century ago by Dr. John Brown, of Edinburgh. A physician with a large practice, he has found time for literary pursuits, and his occasional essays, collected into two volumes of Spare Hours, have been the delight of a host of thoughtful and cultivated people. As in the sketches I shall give you now and then I must study brevity, I hope those who may have time and opportunity will go from me to the original story-writers, and read for themselves.

RAB AND HIS FRIENDS.

Rab was a huge mastiff, "old, gray, brindled, as big as a little Highland bull," fierce, kind-hearted, and faithful. He belonged to a carrier, or what we would call an expressman—a thin, impatient, dark-haired little man, to whom Rab was entirely submissive. Dr. Brown being fond of dogs, had formed quite a friendship with this one, which dated back to the doctor's boyhood, when, seeing Rab attacked by a savage little bull-terrier, which was madly trying to fight whatever came in its way, he stepped up to Rab and cut the muzzle which prevented the great creature from defending himself. Six years after this, when the doctor was a young medical student, there came a procession to the hospital one afternoon in October. In at the large gate walked Rab, with "that great and easy saunter of his. He looked as if taking general possession of the place, like the Duke of Wellington entering a subdued city, satiated with victory and peace." After him came the old white mare Jess, drawing the carrier's cart, in which Ailee, the carrier's wife, was seated, her husband not driving, but walking at the mare's head, and leading her carefully along.

There is no genre sketch in the English language which is finer than the description of Ailee Noble and her husband James. His plaid was about her. His big coat was carefully tucked around her feet. She had a sweet pale face, with silvery hair, and dark gray eyes, "eyes full of suffering, and full of the overcoming of it." He had a swarthy, weather-beaten countenance, shrewd and keen. She was like a delicate snow-drop in her unworldliness and purity. She was the victim of a dreadful malady, a cancer in her breast, and only the surgeon's knife could cure it. In those days—nearly sixty years ago—chloroform was unknown as a blessed relief from pain. Ailee was put to bed for that night, and the faithful husband and dog watched by her side. The dog reminded Dr. Brown, oddly enough, in his size and dignity, of a famous Baptist preacher, Andrew Fuller, with his look of sombre command, as "of thunder asleep, but ready." Next day the operation was performed. The beautiful old woman bore it with perfect patience and silence; and when it was over, the surrounding students, though accustomed to see people suffer, wept like children. The husband "happed" her up, and carried her to her room again, Rab following.

"I'll hae nane o' yer strynge nurse bodies for Ailee, Maister John," said James. "I'll be her nurse, an' I'll gang aboot on my stockin' soles as canny as pussy."

For several days she seemed to do well under his kind care. Then she grew worse, wandered in her mind, thought she had in her arms her "wee Mysie, forty years and mair" in heaven; at last came to herself, said "James," and with a long loving look for him, a glance for the kind young doctor, and one for Rab, then another satisfied gaze into her husband's face, she shut her eyes, and fell asleep in death.

There is little more to tell. Poor James did not long survive his wife. By the fall of the first snow, the two were in the same grave. Rab was taken by the carrier who succeeded to the business, but he would not eat, he would not leave the stable where old Jess was kept, nor would he let his new master come near him. At last that master had to kill him.

"I was laith to mak awa wi' th' auld dowg," said this man, "but I could doe naething else."

And says our author: "I believed him. Fit end for Rab. His teeth and his friends gone, why should he keep the peace and be civil?"

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Marie G. Hamblin proposes that the boys and girls who read Young People shall emulate Secretary Blaine, and learn to repeat in their order the names of the sovereigns of England, and the dates of their respective coronations. She suggests that all who do so shall send their names, accompanied by the signatures of their parents or teachers, to the Postmistress, that the Editor of Harper's Young People and Dr. Vincent may know that they are trying to acquire useful knowledge. The Postmistress approves of the plan, and gives the remainder of 1881 as the time in which all who wish may endeavor to thus exercise their memories. The names of the diligent students will be duly printed in this column.

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Many persons erroneously think that a letter if left unsealed will be sent by the Post-office Department for one cent. They write their letter, leave it open, and affix a one-cent stamp to the envelope. In all such cases the recipient is compelled to pay the additional postage. And while this may not be an affair of great importance to an individual who receives an occasional letter, it involves a large expenditure when, as in the case of Harper & Brothers, letters are received by the thousands weekly.

Full letter postage is at the rate of three cents per every half ounce in America. Letters to Europe cost five cents per half ounce. Little readers will please remember this, and remind their elders, if they forget it.

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AUTUMN PICTURES FOR THE COMMON-PLACE-BOOK.

Along the river's summer walk
The withered tufts of asters nod,
And trembles on its arid stalk
The hoar plume of the golden-rod.
And on a ground of sombre fir
And azure-studded juniper
The silver-birch its buds of purple shows,
And scarlet berries tell where bloomed the sweet wild rose.
—John G. Whittier.
The ash her purple drops forgivingly
And sadly, breaking not the general hush;
The maple swamps glow like a sunset sea,
Each leaf a ripple with its separate flush;
All round the wood's edge creeps the skirting blaze
Of bushes low, as when on cloudy days
Ere the rain falls the cautious farmer burns his brush.
—James Russell Lowell.

What School of Design can vie with the autumn colors? The leaves are not dipped in one dye, as at the dye-house, but they are dyed in light of various degrees of strength, and left to set and dry there.—Henry D. Thoreau.

The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere.
Heaped in the hollows of the grove the autumn leaves lie dead;
They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread.
—William Cullen Bryant.

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West Springfield, Massachusetts.

Dear Postmistress,—Will you admit an old lady into your pleasant circle? I wish to say a word or two about the poor cat Augusta C. dislikes so much. Probably one reason why most people like dogs better than cats is that dogs like people best, and cats like places best. A dog will follow his owner to new places, but usually a cat will stay at the old place, even if she is the only thing left, unless she is blinded and carried away by force, and then she will be frightened and confused for several days, though all her old friends may be with her. But a dog only wants his old friends with him, and he will stay almost anywhere. Cats are very interesting, though they are not quite so loving. I have a cat which a few years ago swallowed something which "stuck in her throat," and the poor creature was badly troubled by it for a long time. She could not lap either milk or water, and I was afraid she would die. I tried to feed her with a spoon, as I have often fed lambs, but did not succeed very well; her teeth were too sharp. As I sat watching poor Katherine's efforts one day to drink a saucer of warm milk which I had given her, I thought of trying to feed her with a bottle. I put the milk into one which would hold a small tea-cupful, and took her in my lap to feed her. Well, she and I "made a mess" of it the first time. But after one or two trials more, I succeeded in teaching her to drink from the bottle without spilling the milk. Every time I thought she ought to be fed—which was morning and night—I would get the bottle ready, and say, "Katherine, do you want your milk?" If she was in a sound sleep, she would spring up and mew in reply, and stand up on her hind-legs like a rabbit. Then I would stoop down to her and hold out my left hand, and she would lean her "elbows" on it, and put her paws on the "shoulders" of the bottle, I holding it in my right hand, and tipping it as she drank the milk, until she had taken the whole. She would frequently mew for more, and follow me around until I would give her another drink, when she would lick her chops, wash her face, and lie down for a nap.

When drinking she would sit on her haunches, straight up, and put her little paws around the bottle in the most comical way imaginable. One could not keep from laughing to see her. If I attempted to take it away before she was done, she would run her nails out and hold on with quite a grip. I fed her in this way for more than six weeks; and it was such a funny sight that the neighbors would come in and ask me to feed her, and friends from quite a distance would ask after my cat, and beg to see her eat. I fed her longer than was necessary on this account, for she recovered from the trouble after a while, and is as well now as ever she was, only she is getting old. I sometimes tempt her with the bottle now, just to see if she remembers her old accomplishment. But Katherine is a very wise cat. She would use the bottle when it was "prescribed" for her. When it was no longer necessary, she seemed to prefer the natural way of drinking.

Aunt Mary.

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We place before the C.Y.P.R.U. this week a variety of instructive and entertaining articles. The sketch of Charlotte Corday, from the pen of one of our most able American historians, will recall the lesson taught by the terrible French Revolution; a "Dangerous Plaything" will show the boys and girls what strong measures are taken in our large cities to check the ravages made by fire; and "Lawn Tennis" will give them an idea of another new device in the way of an out-door game for developing weak muscles and cultivating health and strength. As for the article on our second page, entitled "Luck," we trust that it is going to do a great deal toward inducing our young readers to cast that stupid word out of their vocabulary.

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