Newspaper Page Text
i OU^LETTER “ilfclKSJ
WEEKLY CHAT WITH CORRESPONDENTS
little friend, Lucy Barbour
E., writes from “ The Manse,”
Angusta county, Va.:
jrXU) “Dear Mr. Burke: We now
live at a place about four miles
from Staunton, and as some of
your little correspondents perhaps do
not know much about our town, I will
tell them something of it. It is the
seat of the State Deaf, Dumb and Blind
Institutions, and also of the Lunatic
Asylum. We paid a visit to the Deaf,
Dumb and Blind Institutes, and it was
very interesting to see the little children
at their different occupations. One of
the little blind girls played on the piano
very sweetly for us. They have a very
large and handsome organ for the bene
fit of the blind.
“ Staunton is quite a large town, and
is building up very rapidly. There is
a great deal of business done there, and
there are three large Female Seminaries,
of which Miss Baldwin’s is the princi
pal one.”
Fannie S. 11., of Tuskegce, Alabama,
writes:
“ Dear Mr. Burke : I have only been
taking your sweet little paper a few
weeks, and have already become very
much interested in if, particularly in
the little letters.
“ In one of the March numbers, I saw
a letter written by a little girl whose
name was Fannie S. H. They are my
very initials. She spoke of her little
sister, who died a short time before. I
had a little sister, too, whose name was
Ellen, and her favorite song also was,
‘ There is a happy land, far, far away.’
“ I have no little sisters and brothers,
but I have little cousins that I might
tell you about; but I will postpone it
until the next time I write, because it
would take up too much room in your
columns, and I like to read about others
best.”
We shall be glad to hear from Miss
Fanni e.
Vidella C., of Homerville, (la,, says;
“Dear Mr. Burke: I have read a
great many letters from the boys and
girls, about their little sisters and bro
thers. I think I have as sweet a sister
as any of them. She is three years old,
and says a good many funny things. It
would take a whole page of your paper
to hold all of her sayings. I must tell
you some of them. Wo asked her to
BURKE’S WEEKLY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.
tell her name, and she answered:
‘ Minnie Turn, of Homerville, Dor
dia, Alb’y and Dulf Wailwoad.’
“ We ask her whose jewel she is,
and she replies: ‘Mamma’s dcwel
and papa’s treasure.’
“She often tells our mother she
loves her ‘ heart full,’ and when she
asks her how much that is, her reply
is, ‘ Much as possy tan.’
“ We have a nice Sunday school,
about a mile from our house, and we
attend it. She gets a ticket every Sun
day for good lessons and behavior, and
I change them for a book.
“My brother takes your paper. I
am sorry that ‘ Lillian Lisle ’ has been
finished.”
Mollie R,, of Mooresville, Alabama,
writes :
“ Dear Mr. Burke : I am delighted
with your paper. I have but one little
brother and a kind sister, who takes the
Weekly for us. Our dear father died
when we were very small. I am not
quite twelve, and my little brother is
nine years old. We live with our uncle
in the country, and are so glad when
the Weekly' comes, as it does on Satur
day, and we have it to read Sunday.
We have no Sabbath school near us, so
we have to spend the Sabbath reading.”
W. E. 8., of Effingham county, Ga.,
says :
“ Dear Mr. Burke : I have one little
brother, about two and a half years old.
The other day he came out of the room
with a doll in his hand and said : ‘Char
lie, take my baby.’ Charlie said:
‘Take what?’ and he replied, ‘My
child.’ Charlie said that the doll had
no arm or head, and he went and told
Johnny to take his doll, and Johnny
said ‘ No.’ When he found out that no
one would take it he laid it on the floor.
“ One day he was eating a sparrow,
and he called it a turkey. The other
day Johnny was reading a paper, and
he said: ‘Johnny, stop reading and
rastle with me. ’ ’ ’
Written for Buiko’s Weekly.
The Spiing-Timo has Come!
Spring-timo has come! I hear
the birds sing.
Thethrushandthclinnet*arcboth
qqyryj on the wing;
The starling this morning by dawn
was awake,
Q/ 3 Trilling her carols through wood
land and brake.
And last night, awaking at midnight, I heard
Tho wild, tangled notes of the sw T eet mocking
bird.
Tho oriole swings from its home ’mid the
leaves;
The martens peep coyly from under the
eaves;
And with the soft twilight, so solemn and
still,
Comes the shrill, plaintive cry of tho low
whippo’will.
In tho yard, by the window, is a snug little
nest,
And I guess it belongs to Dame Robin Red
breast,
For when I approached it, she made such a
clatter
leould not imagine justwhat was the matter,
Till, climbing the trellis, I suddenly spied
Four little white eggs a-lying inside.
The Spring-time has conic! The flowers are
in bloom,
And the garden is fragrant with sweetest
perfume
From hyacinths, snow-drops, and daffodils,
too,
And tho meek little crocus, both yellow and
blue ;
There’s tho flaunting red tulip and gay co
lumbine,
And creepers—tho jasmine and coral wood
bine,—
And the sensitive brier, so modest and shy,
As almost to shrink from the glance of an
cyc.t
There are violets, lilacs, and jonquils by
scores,
And down in the meadow and all out of
doors
Is floating the breath of the sweet vernal
flowers,
While tho moonbeams are sleeping in emer
ald bowers.
The Spring-time has come! The low-bend
ing skies
Look tender and warm, as a young mother s
eyes
*The American linnot— Fringilla purpurea.
\Sclircmlcia uncinatu a beautiful little
climber, with delicate, numosa-likc loaves
and exquisite flowers of a bright rose color.
Indigenous here.
When she hushes "her darling to sleep on her
breast,
Or the eyes of a ring-dove that broods o’er
its nest.
And soft lies the sunshine on valley and hill,
And sweet is the song of the murmuring rill;
Among tho bright flowers and shadowy trees,
Fi’om morning to night is tho humming of
bees ;
In the cup of the lily and heart of the roso
The fairies arc roeked to their nightly re
pose,
Or, out on the greensward they merrily play,
And dance till tho dawn bids them hasten
away.
The beautiful Spring, in her kirtlo of groon,
All broidered with flowers, is fair asaqueen,
Or as a young bride that’s adorned for her
groom,
Her soft cheek suffused with a delicate bloom.
With ablush and a smile on her beautiful face,
Her feet shod with sandals, her motions all
grace,
With her lap full of roses and voice full of
song,
So, gaily tho maiden conies tripping along.
No wonder by painters and poets she’s
crowned
The loveliest season of all tho year round 1
Mrs. Mary E. McKinne,
IV ild wood, Flo r ida.
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
A HUNT ON THE WAKULLA;
OR, (JACK DOBELL IN FLORIDA*
By the Author of “ Big-Foot Wallaceand
“ Jack Dobell; or, A Boy's Adventures
in Texas."
CHAPTER IV.
jack dobell’s yarn—off for the man
atee —DETAINED AT TAMPA —OYSTER-
ING, FISHING AND HUNTING—VISIT TO
TIIE “PIRATE’S DEN”—HOSPITABLE RE
CEPTION.
fOMMY HUGHES
highly commended
' by every one ex
ile said nothing in
reply, but, quietly pouring out a cup of
hot coffee, he began to sip it composed
ly, whilst he fixed himself comfortably
upon his blanket to listen to the yarn
which I was next called on to spin for
the entertainment of the crowd.
“ Boys,” said I, commencing with the
usual assurance and self-complacency
of a professional story-teller, and as if
it was a matter admitting of no doubt
at all that anything I might condescend
to tell them would be eagerly listened
to—“ I will tell you of an adventure I
had on this coast not loDg ago, in which
I had a very narrow escape for my life,
and in which I should assuredly have
gone, not only “by the board,” but
overboard, if it had not been for a little
“smattering” I had acquired of the
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