*

If Charles Dudley Warner had never been a boy, it would have been
impossible for him to write the very interesting little volume he
calls "Being a Boy," for it is evident that he knows well, from
experience, all that he writes about. It may be that many of our
young readers have seen this book, for it has already reached several
editions; but if there are any of them who have not read it, and who
take an interest in the life of boys who are born, and brought up, and
have fun, and drive oxen, and go fishing, and turn grindstones, and
eat pumpkin-pie, and catch wood-chucks, all on a New England farm,
they would do well to get the book and read it.

If any of those who read it are boys on a farm in New England, they
will see themselves, as if they looked in a mirror; and if any of them
are city boys or girls, or live in the South or West, or anywhere in
the world but in New England, they will see what sort of times some of
the smartest and brightest men in our country had, before they grew up
to be governors, book-writers, and other folks of importance.

There is a particular reason why readers of ST. NICHOLAS should see
this book, for in it they will meet with some old friends.

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Williamsburgh, L.I.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I read in the May "Letter-Box" your answer to
Stella G. about long and short words. It reminded me of what I read
once about Count Von Moltke, the great German general. The writer
described him as "the wonderful silent man who knows how to hold his
tongue in eight different languages."--Yours truly,

Willie, M.D.

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Santa Fe, N.M.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: The donkeys here are called "burros." They are very
tame, and do not get frightened at anything. A few days ago, the boys
in our school tied a bunch of fire crackers to the tail of one, and
fired them off. We all thought he would be very frightened at the
noise, but he just walked off and began eating grass. My brother Barry
had one of these little burros, when we were in Texas, and every
evening he would go to a lady's house for something to eat, although
he had more than he could eat at home; and if she did not come to the
window soon, he would bray as loudly as he could, and she would have
to come out and give him something, even if it was only a lump of
sugur. Good-bye,--From, your affectionate friend,

Bessie Hatch.

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