Coming home we sang songs, and laughed; and every time we came to a house we cheered all together, and waved our flags. Everybody came to their windows to look, for there is n't much travelling on that road. O! I'm so out of breath, and so hoarse ! But I'm sorry we 've got home, I wish it had been ten miles. Now I hear them laughing and clapping over at Aunt Phebe's. What can they be doing? Now Uncle Jacob is calling us to come over. Bubby Short's jumped up. He says his throat feels better now. I wonder what Uncle Jacob wants of us. We must go and see. Good by, sis. This letter is from your brother Dorry. Mrs. A. M. Diaz A THE BABY-HOUSE FAMINE. T the baby-house door sits my sweet little Kitty, Are the cares of your housekeeping quite overwhelming? But they sit dressed for callers; and down in the kitchen If you're tired of playing, run out to the garden; There's green grass to play on, the sunshine is bright; Take her lap for your bed, dear, and play it is night. Then the dear little face grew exceedingly solemn, Dear Aunty, my children are dying of hunger; And to see them all starving! It's really a sin. Well, the last that I saw of the dolls in affliction, Alice Eliot. |