Polly, put the kettle on,
We'll all have tea;
Sukey, take it off again,
They've all gone away.

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Venice, Italy.

I must tell you about this lovely city and the beautiful sights I have seen. The fine old Church of St. Mark faces a square or piazza, and near this is an arch with a large clock; on top of this is an immense bell, with two bronze figures of men with hammers in their hands, with which they strike the bell when the hour comes round. There are several hundred pigeons here, which are fed by the city every day at two o'clock, and many times I have bought corn and fed them too; they are so tame that two or three have eaten from my hand at once. Two weeks ago this square was illuminated. It was called "The Illumination of the Architecture," and there were one hundred thousand lights in the piazza. The gas lamps, which are always lighted, had this night red glass globes on, thirty for each lamp. On the Campanile, or belfry, was the "Star of Italy," which had three thousand lights. The Church of St. Mark looked magnificent, illuminated by electric lights placed in front of it. An island called St. George was flashing with thousands of lights, so that it looked like an enchanted palace rising out of the water. Altogether it was the most beautiful sight I ever saw. A regatta also took place, which I watched from the balcony of an old palace. First I saw the King and Queen of Italy in a gondola, with their son the Prince of Naples. They had four men to row, called gondoliers. These men wore scarlet coats trimmed with gold braid. After a little while the nine gondolas of the race passed, their crews dressed according to the color of their boats—green, white, blue, yellow, solferino, gray, purple, red, and orange. The one in green won the first prize. After the race, the gondola in which was the royal family went up and down the Grand Canal, followed by hundreds of gondolas, some of them with streamers of silk, some with velvet trimmed with gold and silver fringe trailing in the water. Some boats larger than a gondola, called "bissom," were all covered with silk and velvet, the gondoliers dressed in gay colors. Some had eight and some ten men to row. It was a beautiful scene.

Alberto Dal M.

You have described the brilliant illumination in a manner both vivid and picturesque, and the thousands of bright eyes which peer into Our Post-office Box every week will thank you, Alberto, for this glimpse at fairy-like Venice, the Bride of the Sea.

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Des Moines, Iowa.

We moved to Iowa last December, and the best thing I have had since I have been here is your lovely paper, Harper's Young People. How we did laugh when we read about Miss Julia Nast's cooking party! When we lived in New Jersey I used to see her sometimes, and I sometimes saw her father and brother riding past our house, with those great English hounds running on behind the horses. The funniest picture I ever saw is the little De Lesseps children in the dog-cart with their father. I wish the baby had been in the cart too, with her mamma. I have been wanting to see Mollie Garfield, and, to my delight, there she was in last week's Young People. I feel so sorry for her and the rest of the family! My brothers and sister and I gave some money for the monument. When I become a grown-up lady, and the monument shall have been erected, I will go to see it.

I am now ten years old. I attend a school which the Western people call a college; in the East we would call it a seminary. I have two beautiful birds. The name of one is Cassius, and of the other Ida. I have three brothers and one sister. My big brother is in the East at college. My brother fourteen years old is getting ready for college here in Des Moines. My little brother Paul stays at home and learns his ABC's with mamma. My sister Blanche is seven years old, and can spell a little, but can not write. She is learning how to crochet.

Helen H.

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Osage Mission, Kansas.

This is the first letter I have ever written to your dear little paper. I am seven years old. I go to school. I have so many nice books, and a little secretary to keep them in. I have a velocipede, a wagon, and a wheelbarrow, and many other things. My papa is postmaster. I hope you will find this good enough to print.

Ernest H.

You printed your letter so elegantly in those large capitals that we were delighted with it, and were very glad to send it to the press to be made into a dear little letter for Our Post-office Box.

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Rexford Flats, New York.

I would like to belong to the Natural History Society, and when I find anything interesting I will report. Last spring, as my mother was digging in the garden, she unearthed a queer specimen. It was a common white grub, with one of the little knobs on its head grown to about an inch in length, and the other was about half as long. How many of the Natural History scholars have seen such a specimen? Not many, I am afraid. I found a ripe wild strawberry Friday, the 14th of October.

Charles McB.

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Wheatland, near Lancaster, Pennsylvania.

I have a Cashmere goat and two wagons. The goat is entirely white. His name is Billee G. Taylor. I have painted his horns with gold paint, and it makes him look beautiful. He eats everything, from old shoes down to grass, newspapers, leather, and especially dry beech and sycamore leaves, but he will not touch maple leaves. Isn't it funny?

H.E.J., Jun.

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Culleoka, Tennessee.

Many copies of Young People are sent to Culleoka every week, and yet I have never seen a letter from here. We use Young People in school instead of Readers. I am very much interested in "Tim and Tip." Please tell Jimmy Brown to write some more of his troubles; I enjoy reading his letters so much. I can work the Labyrinth Puzzle.

Addie C.W.

P.S.—I put in something for the Daisy Cot.

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Culleoka, Tennessee.

I used Young People as a Reader for two sessions, and liked it better than any Reader I ever used. At examination we had to write off as much of "Toby Tyler" as we could remember. Why is it that editors like you to write on only one side of the paper? I like Friday to come, because Young People arrives on that day. I have worked the Labyrinth Puzzle. I live in Nashville, at the Vanderbilt University, but am now attending school in Culleoka.

Susie S.

Addie's contribution has been sent to Miss Fanshawe, the Treasurer of St. Mary's Free Hospital. In reply to Susie, the reason why editors prefer correspondents to write on one side of the paper, and not on both, is a twofold one. It is mainly for the convenience of printers that the request is made, because sometimes ten or a dozen printers are setting the type for an article at the same time. The pages are divided, and assigned to different compositors as "copy," and the article can be set up much more rapidly if the writing is on one side only of the paper. Sometimes a page has to be cut in two when there is much need for haste. Editors, who are very busy people, can read manuscript which is written in this way with more ease than if it were otherwise. As they read, they do not need to turn their leaves, but can lay them down as they get to the end of each.

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Albany, New York.

I like the letters in the Post-office Box very much. I have a brother nine years old, and we have three pets—two kittens, one we call Topsy and the other Spotsy, and a large Newfoundland dog. Every morning he brings papa his paper before he is up out of bed, and we play hide and seek with him, and he runs to papa and puts his face in his arms, and waits until we call "Ready," and then hunts until he finds us.

When mamma read to my little brother Bennie about Tim and Tip, where Captain Pratt did not use Tim well, and threw the knife and fork at him, and whipped him so much, he went out into the garden, and we did not know where he was. He sat down and put his arms around Flora's neck, and cried to think how hard it was for Tim to part with Tip.

I could tell you a great many more of Flora's tricks, but I am afraid to make my letter too long, for fear it may go into the waste-basket, and I would feel very sorry to have that happen. I am twelve years old.

Ella M.

Not the waste-basket, dear, but the pigeon-hole. We do not destroy the letters which we can not publish, and even when they are not printed, we enjoy reading them, and feel obliged to those who write to us.

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Charleston, South Carolina.

Papa gave Young People to me as a birthday present, and I am so glad when he brings it home every week. I read all the stories, and I love to read the letters from all the little girls and boys. You will see I am a little Southern girl, and in the winter here the orange-trees are all in bloom, and the gardens are filled with flowers, as we do not often have the snow and ice that some of your readers do. There are only two of us. My sister Isa is ten, and has dark eyes and brown curls. I have light eyes and curls, and am eight years old, so you see that we don't look alike. I have been at a kindergarten for two years, and now I am in school with the larger girls. I am very fond of dolls, and have a great many of them. My sister is godmother to all of them, and makes all their clothes, which is a great help to me. We have a very boisterous puppy, and his name is Leo. He chewed up my prettiest wax doll. It was great fun for him, but not for me. Papa gave me another in her place, and she is very pretty. I take great care of her, so that Leo shall not get hold of her. We found a little stray kitten a few days ago in the street. We brought it home, and fed it, and as it is a tortoise-shell, and very pretty, we have named it Mrs. Langtry. What I like best of everything in Harper's Young People is the poetry. Such pretty pieces you publish! I studied, and recited at school on Friday "Only One," by George Cooper. So do find some more for me. This is a long letter from a little girl you don't know, and as my hand is tired, I will say good-by.

May P.

We feel quite well acquainted with you, May, and will be glad to hear from you again. It was too bad that your poor doll met with so dreadful a disaster. We can sympathize with you, for we once had a mischief-making little dog who chewed our favorite books, tore our dresses, hid our handkerchiefs, buried our gold pencil, frightened the chickens, and flew at all our friends, until they were afraid to enter the front gate. He grew more sedate and much less entertaining, however, in the course of time, which has a very subduing effect on puppies.

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Some time has passed since I wrote you, and I feel to-day as if I would like to write again. My home is on a pretty little Southern River—the Tensas—and if I were a photograph artist, I would send you some of the prettiest river views you ever looked at. I often wish I could have some of the lovely vine-covered trees in our yard. The river is so very low at present that in places one can ride across it on horse-back; yet you would scarcely believe this could you see it in early spring, for nearly every year we are overflowed, and do all our visiting and church-going in skiffs. We have steamboats all the winter season, which carry off our cotton to New Orleans, and bring back all supplies, etc., from there. The boats have nice accommodations for passengers, and trips to the city are very pleasant. I am hoping to take one this winter.

This country has been unusually healthy this summer. Papa says distressingly so; that is because he is the doctor. We had church service yesterday. We have it only once a month, for our minister has two other appointments besides this. He lives only a quarter of a mile from us. He has six children, two boys and four girls, and they are so fair and delicate mamma often calls them our "Lilies of the Valley." Mollie, the second girl, is just a year older than I, and we are very dear friends, so we visit very often. I have a nice set of croquet, and the children sometimes come to play with me, and we enjoy the game ever so much. Please tell me, may other than subscribers have letters in Young People.

My letter is growing long. I do not like to take too much room, and crowd out other correspondents, so I will propose an exchange, and finish it. I have a large pair of deer horns, which I will send in return for a piece of jet, gold ore, or silver ore, or a petrified lizard or frog. I will exchange for a bunch of white violets, Wandering Jew; and grasses for grasses. Write before sending.

Marie Louise Usher,
Wild Wood Post-office, Catahoula Parish, La.

Any one, whether a subscriber or not, may write to our Post-office Box.

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Utica, New York.

There are three cats which I would like to tell you about, but as it would be too long a letter, I will divide it into two, and send you the other another time. The first was a little half-bred Persian, and as she had beautiful fur, we called her Fluffy. She belonged to my sister, so we took her to a boarding-school in England, for we lived there then. After breakfast at school we used to have prayers, and I am sorry to say Fluffy used to behave very badly. She would jump up on the table and lick the butter off the bread, or run up the curtains, and look down from the top with such a catch-me-if-you-can air that it was very difficult to keep from laughing. We had great fun with her, for she used to walk into the school-room in the middle of lessons, and of course we used to try and hide her from the governess. We had her at school about a year, and then she died. All the girls were very fond of her, she was such a bright, loving little creature, so all the boarders went into mourning for her for a week.

Janie P.G.

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Detroit, Michigan.

I have written once before, but my letter was not printed. I suppose you have a great many letters to attend to. I have a sweet little brother. He has been very sick, but he is getting better now. We have a cute little kitten, and its name is Toby Tyler. My papa is going to New York to open a studio this winter. I am very sorry, because it will be so lonesome here without him. He says maybe he will go where they publish this nice paper, and then he will write and tell us all about it. When Toby Tyler's monkey died, my little brother cried like everything, and I felt like it too. Please ask Jimmy Brown to tell us some more of his sad mishaps.

Katie J.C.

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Rockford, Iowa.

I have written two letters to Harper's Young People, and have never seen them in print; but I will try once more. I thought the first one went into the waste-basket, but I have since found out that both were put safely into a pigeon-hole. One day not long ago I was sitting in school, and I heard a curious noise at my ear. I stopped studying, and listened. I distinctly heard the words: "Oh dear! I am so tired squeezed in here so tight. This morning when the mail came, that great monster of a man pushed a whole lot more letters in beside me. I am going to get acquainted with them." I then heard a rustling noise, and then: "How do you do? Aren't you rather tired?" "Oh my! I should think so. I am packed in so that I can scarcely breathe. How long have you been here?" "Ever since last April." "I have just come this morning, but I have been on the road three days. I came from Kansas, and the name of the little girl who wrote me is Maudie B. She has seven kittens, a pet lamb, and a little pony, besides a whole family of dolls." I heard another curious noise, almost like thunder, only not so loud, then a bang and—awoke to find it half past two, my lesson not learned, and a boy beginning to ring the bell which is always rung just before recess.

Bat B.

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Utica, New York.

I am a little boy eleven years old, and I wish to tell you what my papa brought me from Canada a short time since. He had been fishing there for about a week, and brought me a tame white rat with pink eyes. It was a curious enough pet at first, but I gave it away, as I do not like rats. I go to New York quite often to see my grandpa and grandma who live there. I always have a nice time, and see lots of pretty things. I have a collection of cards. If any little boy or girl would like to exchange cards, please address

George S. Klinck,
7 Steuben Street, Utica, N.Y.

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Boston, Massachusetts.

I saw in Young People lately some anecdotes of cats, and I thought that I would like to describe a very strange cat owned by a friend of mine. This gentleman calls her a rabbit-cat, and she is very much like a rabbit. She has a "bob" tail, and her hind-legs are much longer than her fore-legs, so that she seems to tip forward as she runs.

She runs like a rabbit, and is very wild. It was very hard to get near enough to examine her. But the queerest parts are her feet; she has five toes on each hind-foot, and seven on each fore-foot. The fore-foot looks as if she had originally had four toes on it, and the three extra ones had been hitched on afterward.

I should much like to have this printed.

W.S.D.

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Red Oak, Iowa.

I live in the western part of Iowa. My brother Herbert has taken Harper's Young People ever since it was first published. I did not seem to care for it at first, but now I like the stories very much indeed. I have just been reading "The Talking Leaves," and can hardly wait for the rest of it to come. I have learned two pieces from Young People to speak at school.

We have a great many pets, but those I like best are a pair of ducks. They were given to me when very small. They eat so cunningly out of my hand, and follow me all about the yard; and it is the funniest thing to see them swim in a pond that was made for them. We have a very handsome horse named Kit, and she is so gentle that I drive her down town sometimes to bring papa home, though I am only a little girl nine years old.

When I learn to write better I will write again if you want me to. I like the other children's letters very much.

Nora L.

Your writing is very plain, and we will compare your next letter with this one, and see what improvement you shall have made a few months from now.

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Bridgeport, Connecticut.

I am a little boy ten years old, and have taken Harper's Young People ever since it was first published, and enjoy it very much. Papa buys it of the news-dealer. I think the pictures very nice indeed. How very pretty is the one of M. De Lesseps and children! How cunning they look perched up in their village cart, and what jolly times they must have together! I attend the Kindergarten School. I study geography, arithmetic, read in the Third Reader, and also study German. My teacher is, besides being thorough and efficient, a real Christian lady, and we all love her very much. Should you chance to be in Bridgeport some Friday morning, come in and see us. There are a great many who take Harper's Young People among our scholars, and they would be delighted to see the editor. Papa and mamma take me occasionally to your beautiful city, and next time I go papa says he will show me where Young People is published; but I will not write more, for fear my letter may be too long.

Clinton T.P.

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Cornell University, Ithaca, New York.

Will Miss Lena W., of Tuckernuck, Pennsylvania, who writes to the Young People, as printed in the number for October 11, 1881, that she has a three-legged cat, kindly send her full name to Professor B.G. Wilder, Ithaca, New York, who has hitherto supposed himself to be the only possessor of a feline tripod?

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M.J.L.—The piece of music called "Tam o' Shanter" can be purchased at any large music store in New York, and you can procure it through the book-seller in your village, or by writing directly to one of the dealers whose addresses are given on your sheet music. You will have to explain your other question more fully if you wish a reply. It is rather indefinite.

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C.Y.P.R.U.

Which question shall I answer first? It needs a very wise Postmistress indeed to decide which has done the most for the world, peace or war; and to answer the question decidedly, we would have to be familiar with all the histories that have ever been written, and all the systems of political economy which have governed different nations and countries in ancient and modern times. It carries our thoughts back to the days of knight-errantry, to the Middle Ages, to the period of Rome's glory, to Alexander the Great, to Babylon and Nineveh, and to Egypt and the Pharaohs. A young friend was talking with me the other day on this very subject, and he said, "I think there is a great deal more told in history about war than about peace." So there is. Wars are like storms or fierce tornadoes. They do an immense amount of damage. They devastate vast regions, and they cause many broken hearts. There is nothing more terrible than war. Still, wars are sometimes necessary. They clear the moral atmosphere; they settle questions which can be settled only by the sword, which decides which party is the stronger; and they prepare the way for peace. Some great wars have sent scholars and artisans into exile, and thus learning and useful arts have been carried to new lands, and mankind has been benefited in the end. Peace gives time for the growth of that which is best in the life of nations. Science, literature, and industry flourish in an era of peace, and home happiness and good morals prevail. More and more, as the world becomes highly civilized, and the religion of Christ is spreading from land to land, peace obtains victories, and war goes out of fashion. Nations resort to arbitration about disputed matters, and rulers learn that they can not be allowed to plunge thousands of people into distress and poverty to satisfy their personal ambition. But the thunder makes itself heard, while the dew is distilled silently, and the wheat which makes the world's bread grows without any sound, and there, after all, is the difference between war and peace.

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Oakland, California.

Dear Postmistress,—A dear little friend of mine wishes me to send you her history. Her name is Georgia Brand, and she is living with her "adopted papa," as she calls him, at a military station in one of our Western States. Little Georgia was found, rolled up in a tattered old shawl, under a shrub somewhere in the wilds of Colorado, with a paper pinned on her shawl, on which was written, "Take good care of my darling child," and nothing more. The soldiers who found her took her to the Colonel, who befriended the child at first, and then adopted her. He named her for his native State, Georgia, and gave her his last name, Brand. One day, when her father was telling her of some scars he had gained during the civil war, Georgia said, "See, papa, I have a scar too," and stripping up her sleeve, she showed some marks near her shoulder, which her father said looked like a brand. "Then," said little Georgia, "I am not Georgia Brand, but branded Georgia." She is a witty little thing, and the soldiers call her "the life of the regiment." What the mark meant, and who her parents were, have never been known; but she is very happy with her "adopted papa," who gives her every advantage. Even now her father says she can sing and play better than any other little girl of ten.

Georgia's Aunt Nellie.

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Lizzie H.B.—The splendid hues of the autumn leaves are due to their ripening, and not to the frost, as was formerly supposed by many persons. The gay leaves

"wear, in sign of duty done,
The gold and scarlet of the sun."

There are many beautiful allusions in our American poetry to the charms of the autumn woods. The Postmistress will give you a chaplet of verses next week, taken from some of the poets she loves best, and she hopes that you and others, who keep a commonplace book, will take pains to copy these stanzas into its pages in the neatest possible manner. Those who draw or paint might illustrate their book, and make it a delightful souvenir for the future.

The little webs which you refer to as stretched from one blade of grass to another in dry weather are made by spiders, whose instinct teaches them to spin their webs when there is little probability that the rain will destroy them.

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Inquirer.—If you have read the story of Ariadne, you will remember that after she had married Theseus, and had been deserted by him on the island of Naxos, she was found and comforted by the young god Dionysus, or Bacchus. Venus herself had come to her, checked her weeping, and told her she should become the wife of a god. Bacchus, the god of wine and pleasure, was generally represented as a beautiful youth with long flowing tresses. The vine, ivy, and pomegranate were sacred to him, and he was often represented as seated in a car drawn by panthers and lions. You can see that the sculptor who represents Ariadne as seated on the back of a lion may have had her union with Bacchus in mind. The more beautiful part of her history is the first, where she puts into Theseus's hand the clew of thread which shall guide him in safely through the windings of the labyrinth until he can reach and slay the Minotaur. The lion is the symbol of strength and dominion, and Ariadne seated upon him is upon a throne.

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We would direct the attention of the C.Y.P.R.U. to the very instructive article entitled "The Rocks," by Mr. Charles Barnard, and to the interesting description of "A Visit to an Ostrich Farm," by Lieutenant E.W. Sturdy, U.S.N. For those who are interested in athletic sports, and to the lesson which is always attached to them, that no game requiring quickness, precision, and endurance can be successfully played unless great attention is paid to health, and all habits of intemperance and self-indulgence renounced, we would recommend Mr. B.G. Smith's excellent article upon the game of Lacrosse.

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PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

TWO ENIGMAS.

1.

D.B.C.

2.

Alice.

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No. 2.

CHARADE.

Will A. Mette.

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No. 3.

WORD SQUARE.

1. To improve. 2. A landed estate. 3. To follow. 4. Parts of speech. 5. To clothe.

R.O. Bert.

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No. 4.

DOUBLE SQUARE.

Across.—1. The blanched leaves of the artichoke. 2. A concealer. 3. A girl's name. 4. Dissolves. 5. A metal.

Down.—1. The rim of a cask. 2. One who contracts for service. 3. A girl's name. 4. Sums of money. 5. To clothe.

Miltiades.

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No. 5.

TRANSFORMATIONS.

Freddie.

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ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 103.

No. 1.

Pansy, Phlox, Pink, Poppy, Daisy, Verbena, Rosemary, Jessamine.

No. 2.

Rhine.

No. 3.

Megrim, Ice-Cream, Pine-Apple.

No. 4.

Spill, Yam, Box, Omission, Trice, Stable.

No. 5.

No. 6.

Level.

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Correct answers to puzzles have been received from T. Knight Durham, Lizzie Webster, Ella Lark, Camilla M. Serrano, Forrest F., Belle Foster, Frank Duff, D.B.C., Maud Muller, Belle F. Snart, G. Chapman, Frank Lomas, "Dandy," Eddie S. Hequembourg, Susie Shipp, and "Queen Bess."

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[For Exchanges, see third page of cover.]

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