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i V "F\ hf^^^o^<\j wryMC-^^^ff Q^k i "DO COME AND PLAY— THIS IS ' MERRY CHRISTMAS'!"— From Time. ir^^FTEIl the merry Christmas time come a' J-TKU the merry Year, and that it may nappy Now Year, and that it may Jl^Xf indeed be a happy one to you is the eaVrie^t wish of your editor. Jjot that your little boats may idly drift o'er calm, sunlit seas, oh.no; but that you may have courage to baffle every storm, and then, when a con queror you stand, your days will be tilled with the happiness that comes alone from work -.veil done. Do any of you remember the little story I told you lr.st year about the month of Janu ary? I u'isii some of you would wnteitfor me this week and scad it in real early, 60 we may publish it on oui next page. Qj\Vy (D/\c Zfoy. By Fronie Abbott. . "Ob, mamma, come here and see What Santa Ciaus has done. He's lt-f i so many, many toys, I'm "frald some boy's got none." Si the little voice rang out, >o full of joy and glee. He Thought, "How good old Santa was To brother Will and me." "But here are two almost alike; This one I'll give to Tim. I'll m-v- r ini*s it from mv lot. And I'm sure It will please him. "He is lame, yon know, mamma; His mother, she is dead. ■ He sells newspapers on the street, And scarcely earns his bread. ' "So I'll give Mm just this one, For this I well can spare; And lots of nuts, B ml candy, too, With poor little Tim I'll snare." And, each little boy and girl. Spare just one toy. I pray, To iii.-;ke tome sad heart glad On this joyful Christmas day. And remember, my dear little friend*, That all things in charity given Are recorded in big golden letters, By our Father who is in heaven. HeefeV r "Son. A Stonj of Gape Hurricane. By E. J. M. A long, narrow strip of land belonging to the Canadian Government and jutting out into the Gulf of St. Lawrence was at tlie time I write of known by the appro priate title of Cape Hurricane. On account of the dangerous condition of the coast a magnificent lighthouse had been built at the extreme point of the cape and hard by stood the cottage of the r. • ;-er, an old seafaring man named Samuel Johnstone. Besides two daughters he had four sons, the youngest of whom Hale, aged four teen years, is the hero of my story. One day in the early part of September the boys and girls with the exception of Haie drove about ten miles inland for the purpose of being present at a wedding the same evening. Samuel Johnstone, who was a widower, was consequently left alcne with his little son. A3 night approached the former per ceived, with some anxiety, that the sky was overcast by heavy clouds; that a cold, wet wind was blowing from the north and the experienced mariner at once concluded that a j.-reat storm was impending. "Hale," he said, entering the cottuge and addressing the boy, who was reading SLATE PICTURE FOR BABY TO DRAW. i by the open fireplace, "run down to tne cove and pull up your skiff high and dry. You'll never sail the little Sea Gull again if to-night's storm strikes her." "All right, father," the ooy replied, with alacrity, for he would not lose his swift and beautiful little pleasure-boat for the world. "I'll take care of the Sea Gull. Will you light the lamp?" "Yes. Hurry up, my boy, for the storm is breaking already. God help those at sea to-nicht! The wreckers will be happy in the morning." It may be well to remark here that along the barren shores of Cap a Hurricane were scattered the cabins ol fugitive Indians, outcasts from their tribes, and here and there might be seen the shanty of some fisherman, who could also act the roles of smuggler and wrecker when occasion re. quired. Hale found his task of placing the Sea Gull beyond danger more difficult than he imagined. Hence, it was some time before he was ready to return to the cottage, and when he turned his steps in that direction the wind was howhne dismally, the waves were already lashed into a fury, and the spray irom the rocks dashed over the boy, drenching him to the .-kin. The lighthouse lamp, constructed on the revolving plan, now flashed its radi ance througn the intense darkness of the night, at intervals of a minute's duration. I love a lighthouse, whether glistening white and beautiful, kissed by the purling ripples of a gentle sen, and bathed in the golden sunshine of a summer day, or standing firm and invincible, lashed by the angry surge, breasting the tempest's wrath, and lifting its lire-crowned head into the black, thunJering midnight sky. To me it is at once an emblem of the in finite peace which accompanies virtue, and of the grand, suDlime courage which re sists temptation. Hale stopped suddenly with an excla mation of surprise and fear as he ap proacned the cottage. Something had happened which made the boy's blood ru-n | cold, and drove the ruddy color from his ) healthy face. He crept up to the window and looked I in. One glance and he understood all. i Four wreckers, awkwardly disguised wiih masks of canvas, had captured and bound the keeper, wresting from him at the same time the great iron key of the lighthouse. These men, for the sake o! the booty I cast up by the hungry, merciless waves, intended to sacrifice hundreds of human lives. A thrill of horror ran through the boy's frame as he thought of the enormity of the crime that tnese men were about to commit. A cold perspiration broke over his brow, and he trembled like a leaf. He crouched down in the shadows un der the window-sill, and in a few seconds had regained his presence of mind. His father was helpless. It was his duty to act — to outwit these men— to save hun dreds of lives now at the mercy of the wreckers. Hale had npt lons to wait. Two men were left to guard the prostrate form of old Samuel Johnstone, while two others cautiously left the cottage and ran swiftly toward the lighthouse. They turned the key in the lock and both entered. The next instant Hale had followed them. The storm was raging fiercely. At in tervals lightning qr.ivered through tlie • sky, and rolling thunder seemed to shake the very battlements of heaven, Tlie wind howled like a savage monster in search of prey, and flung foam-crested waves upon ithe beach, like packs of yelping wolves THE SAN FRANCISCO CAIX, SUNDAY, DECEMBER 27, 1896. I? D / fbITED D>-/ whose white fongs flittered through the darkness. Hale quickly removed his shoes as he gained the entrance to the lighthouse. The door was left open. He listened. Both men ascended the stairs. The boy's heart beat with great thumps against his side as he felt for tha key. If he could secure it, it would be easy to lock the wreckers out when they came down, and then to repair what damage they might have done to the lamp. But, alas, the key was gone! For an instant Hale was confused and disappointed, but it was not long before he hail contrived another plan, which he determined to put into execution. At all hazards he would follow the wreckers to the top of the lizhthouse. Trusting to his perfect knowledge ot ever}' nook and cranny in the premises, Hale, with the stealthy motion of a cat, ascended the steep, narrow, winding sairs. For the first time in his experience they creaked beneath his weight. Up, up lie went, every slight noise send ing a thrill of terror through his frame; up past loopholes, which now admitted no sincle ray of light; up, until the sec ond last round was very nearly completed, and then he stopped. What was it that made him shiver as though afflicted with an ague? What caused him to crouch down in the inky darkness, scarcely three feet from the bot tom of the last rickety flight of stairs? He held his breath and listened. Despite the fearful roaring of the tempest without, Hale distinctly heard the low murmnrof voices, and the loud, echoing sound of descending footsteps. He recognized '.he wrecker?. One was | an Indian, the other Miles Parker, a white j man, and both suspicious and dangerous ! characters. "Ugh!" exclaimed the former, as he paused on the last step. "Ale hear urn noise! Sh!" The sharp-eared Indian had detected the almost s-uiipressed breathing ot Hale. Tlie brave boy never moved a muscle, but the beating of his heart was painful in that feariul moment. Two steps to one side and either one of the men would have tramped upon him where he lay. Would they make a search? Would they strike a light? "Go on, you coward," said Parker, im patiently. "There ain't no human bein' but them in the cottage within miles of us. Go on, I tell you!" "Ugh! White man, him fool!" the In dian answered, mnttering discontentedly as he passed downward. Parker followed, and soon their echoing footsteps died away in the distance, and Hale rose, with a prayer of thanksgiving on his lips, :'or the danger was past. Quickly he ran up the last flight of stairs, and one glance showed him all. Ttie wnrkers had not extinguished the lamp, but simply broken the revolving apparatus. In another lighthouse further down the coast the light was stationary. Pilots, therefore, would naturally mistake one for the other, and run their ships upon the rocks. Thr plan of the wreckers was perfect in its diabolical ingeuuity and in its certain ty of success. Hale, however, was equal to the occa sion. Closing the heavy door of the little circular apartment n« boliea and barred it tirmly. This was scarcely the work of a minute. Then, standing on a stool, he found — on, joy of joys! — that he could reach the lamp, and move it easily with his hands — in line, tliat he hjmself could perform the work of the revolving ap paratus. "One, tWo, three, four, five, six," he counted, with the regularity of a clocfc, until he reached "sixty," and then the brilliant light flashed out upon the dark ness, ami many a pilot, miles away upon the bosom of the stormy gulf, saw the well-known signal and steered his vessel accor ingly. It is scarcely necessary to relate how th« infuriated wreckers, vowinc vengeance upon the person who had outwitted them, ran up the narrow stairway and flung themselves again and again upon the stout barrier which separated them from the heroic boy. Suffice it to say that amid the howling of the storm, the curses, threats and pistol-shots of the baflled ruffians five feet away from him, Hale calmly and precisely continued counting the weary minutes of that long, terrible night. His arms ached; his limbs could scarcely support him; be was almost overcome with fatigue; but he never flinched — he stood with invincible determination at his post of duty, saving by his exertions the property of anxious merchants and the lives of.storm-tossed mariners. And when the anger of the storm sub sided and the sun rose in the east, flinging its glorious radiance over the sparkling waters of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, it Hashed brightly on the sails of many ships, which, but for the lieroisru of a liitle boy, would have been shattered on tne cruel rocKs of (Jape Hurricane. The wreckers, who had made their es cape before daylight, were afterward cap tured and punished as they deserved to be — by imprisonment for a long term of years. When Hale, on descending from the lighthouse in the morning, released bis father, the latter wept tears of joy in thanking heaven for so heroic and noble hearted son. Later the little fellow received a bronee medai for heroism from the Government. Even to this day visitors to Cape Hurri cane, hearing this story toid, unite in ap plauding the grand and nobie deed and in calling down blessings upon the hero. Hale Johnstone, the lightkeeper's son. — Golden Days. A Fw a j<n.£ I%Ulcf. When for the first time In her lifa She saw the snowflakes fall. She held oul her tiny apron, As if she would catch them all. She opened her eves in wonder, In wonder and glad surprise, Then ran ouickly to her mother With sparkling and merry eyes, Ana cried, "Oh, mamma, please look out And sea what's coining down- God is popping Christmas corn For all the boys and girls in town." Addie F. BartleT. E*n*j (DrY<jtnuj P<>. By Hattie Whitney. "Little girls don't seem to be good for much nowaday."," said Uncle Grimble, with a shake of his head that made his briszht spectacles glitter and snap. "There wa3 a time once when they used to know how to wash dishes and sweep floors and liked to learn about breadmaking and all that. But that time went cut with can dlesticks and Dutch ovens, and if my nieces were big china dolls they'd be about as much practical value and have quite as many iik j as of how a pie is made. Wouldn't they, Edna?" Edna, who was benevolently rocking the black kitten to sleep, stopped so sud denly as to make Jet's bright yellow eyes pop onen in surprise. "Why, uncle," she replied, "I never thought about making pies, or — or any thing of that kind. Aunt Roxy always tenas 10 that, you know. But I—lI — I ttiink I could." "Ha, ha!" laughed Uncle Grimble, rather skeptically; '"and so could Tilly, couldn't she?" "I wouldn't," said Tilly, with a toss of her pert little head. "I don t want to know how to do that kind of things." "Humph!" answered Uncle Grimble. "It strikes me you want to eat, though. 'J "Tilly,"' said Edna, that night, when the wo were carefully and snugly tucked up tin bed by good, faithful black Aunt Roxy, their uncle's housekeeper, "I believe I will try and learn 10 cook. Uncle wants us to." 1 "Nonsense !" responded Tilly. "I wouldn't bother. Uncle's an old bachelor, and Miss Smart p.mvs old bachelors are cranky and aye funny ideas." "I don't believe it," differed Edna, "and my uncle's good, anyway. He thinks lots of us. and we ought to try and please him." But Tilly had nestled her head under the quilt, and was asleep by this time. "Oh, Uncle Grimble! Uncle Grimble! Guess what you' re going to get for a Christ mas present." "Bless us!" exclaimed Uncle Grimble, ropping his newspaper as, Edna danced in from the kitchen the day before Cnristmas with a warm odor of holiday goodies fol lowing her. "Whatever can it be?" "A pic!" said Edna, fluttering into an excited tiptoe jig — "a pie that I'm going to make all myself. I've been learning of Aunt lloxy, and now she says I can make one myself." "Just hear the child !" said Uncle Grim ble, pulling off his spectacles and rubbing them briskly on his big red handkerchief. "Does she really care enough for her old uncle to learn to make a pie expressly for him?" "Yes, indeed, uncle," assured Edna, put ting her plump arms around his neck and giving him a loving hug. "You're the dearest, bestest uncle in the world !'' "There," said Uncle Grimble at last, "jump down now. J'm going to put on my great roat and go to town and see what I can find in the way of pretty things as presents — extra presents besides those Santa Claus brings, you know — for industrious little girld who learn to make pies." Miss Tilly slid off tne lounge where she had been engaged in the manufacture of a flock of paper chickens, and trotted for ward witn a little pout on her red lips. "I can make pies as good as Edna can," she said, shaking the curly brown locks out of her eyes. "Well done!" commended Uncle Grim ble. "This is encouraging, little girl. And now, to add still more interest to the occasion, suppose I offer a first premium — that is. a choice of presents to the one who gets up the best pie to-morrow, while the manufacturer of the second best gets ttie second choice. Hey ?" "Ail right," assented Edna, while Tilly STREET CAROLERS. popped down on a cushion before the fire, with her feet doubled under her, and be gan an energetic course of thinking. The kitchen of Uncle Grimble's old fashioned farmhouse was cheery to see and fragrant to smell, as preparations for to-morrow's feast went briskly on under Aunt lioxy's skillful fingers. And now, at last, the principal portion of the work was over, the big turkey sleeping his last brown savory sleep on the blue platter in the pantry, beside the great raisin-dotted plum puddlnc, two loaves of cake, out lined temptingly under white-fringed nap kins, and the biggest tin ranful of jum bles, cookies and crullers at the head of a long procession of mince and pumpkin pies. Everything was baked except a half dozen or so tarts, and some fruit pies which had not yet received their upper crusts, for, having got them so far along. Aunt Roxy haa declared herself "plum guv out an' not gwine to do nary stitch mo' tell she had a smoke," which she was new enjoying beside ihe dining-room fire place. Edna's great achievement — a wonderful currant pie, to the manufacture of which she had devoted the morning — stood in the window-sill, alone in its tlory, a deep bronze in hue. and neatly scalloped around the edge. "It isn't so very fine, as I see, that Edna needed to make surh a fuss over it," said Tilly to herself, pausing beside it, and turning her scornful little nose up. "I don't believe it's so awful hard to make a pie, anyhow, that a body has to spend a whole week learning how to put one to gether, like Edna did. If I could only just beat her, now!' Here Miss Tilly's gaze fell upon the row of uncompleted pies upon the table, which started a new train of thought. "I supine Aunt Roxy could beat me or E-lna, either one," she went on, specula tively. ."Her dough looks nice. I won der — . These pies aren't half finished. If I just took and borrowed some of Aunt Roxy's doueh and finished one, it would bf my pie, nnd would beat Edna, too. I'll lake this nice, red-looking cherry pie. There's so many more pies Aunt Roxy won't nnss it when she comes out, acd nobody'll know about it, so it'll do just as well as if I made it all." This iine of reasoning, you perceive, was not sound. It involved, besides the appro printing of Aunt Roxy's work, deceit toward Uncle Grimble, and injustice to Edna, whose pie, good or bad, was the re sult of honest industry and study, and stood fair and square before the world, juat what it protended to be. "I'll make mine prettier than Edna's, too," said Tilly, as she whisked the half finished pie, the rolling-pin und a piece of dough "borrowed" from Aunt Roxy's pan, into a far corner of ti.e pantry. "I'll make it scallopicr than Edna's, and crinkle the edge around with the cake-cutter." "Bress de chile! Whar she git datf" asked Aunt Roxy, half an hour after ward, as Tilly came forth from the pantry, gravely bearing her highly ornamented pie, just ready for the oven. "Made it," replied Tilly, triumphantly. "Is it as nice as yours, Aunt Koxy?" "Well, rte law-law !" Aunt Roxy dropped upon a chair, rolling up her eyes in ad miration. "Ef dat ain't de beatin'est chile! Makin' sich a mighty fine-lookin' pie 'dout no 'sperence ! Reckon hit'il beat mine all to no whar!" "And so," said Uncle Grimble, the next day, when the anxiously-looked-for time for the Christmas dinner dessert arrived, "my two little cooks have been industrious and actually made pies for their old uncle, who hasn't yet lost his taste for goodies." "Tilly's is the nicest," admitted Edna, witd a little unsuppressible tone of regret; "but Aunt Roxy says some are natural % (Boiolf^lc. "Milady," Miss a la Mode, Goes mincing along the road ; She's psrfei-tly self-possessed, Knowing she up-to-date's dressed. All else may go hnng. From McKiniey to "Chanz!" Ah, the themes of to-day In her brain have no play; Such brains, by the way. Are not formed of the "clay." Shakespeare's "porcelain kind," A rare, diamond mind I Santa Cruz. Its. born cooks and some aren't. That must be the difference." ''The proof of the pudding is in the eat ing," remarked Uncle Grimble; "and the same may be said of pies. So we'll give both a. fair trial before we decide. 1 ' And here Uncle Grirable tooK a good sized bite of Tilly's pie, and immediately shut one eye and squinted the other up fearfully. "Tilly,' he said, "it's sour enough to make a pip; squeal." Aunt Roxy's red-spotted turban was poked inside the dining-room door. "I 'lowed to tell yo' all befo' dinner," she said, "not to eat none o' dat ar cherry pie, 'cause hit ain't got no sweetnin' in. Thar ain't but only one cherry pie, 'cause I tuck all de cherries to put inter dem little patty tarts; wasn't only jest 'nuff left fo' one pie, an' when I'd done got de pies in de pans an' was hxin' ob 'em fo' de top crus', dat ar white chiny bowl ob sugar guv out jest as I got to de cherry pie, an' 1 'lows I'll leave dat one go tell I cits a rest, an' when I puts on de top orusties I'll go fetch some mo 1 sugar; an' I 'clare to mercy I neber thought no mo' about hit tell jest a little while ago — don't even 'member noticin' dat pie when I fin ished t'others, an' I reckon I jest x>ut on ds top crus' 'dout thinkin' nothin' 'hout hit; but yo' all needn't cut dat ar pie tell I opens hit an' puts 3Ugar in hit." "I think, Aunt Roxy, that we have cut it already," replied Uncle Grimble, look ing gravely at Tilly, who turned as red as the cherry juice running in a bright stream from where the pie had been cut. It was all he said. But Tilly, suddenly realizing the gravity of the offense she had committed, and overwhelmed with morti fication at its detection, felt herself justly punished. Edna, pitying her grief, proposed to go on equal shares in the gifts; but Uncle Grimble would not permit it from a stern sense of justice. "After all," he said to himself, "perhaps I should not have offered a premium. Love is the best motiye to work from, and one not likely to induce deceit." But as the premium had been offered it was now awarded to Edna's Christmas pie. — Golden Days. THE LETTER Bi.t'F. Canon, Cal., December 16, 1890. Dear Editress: It has been several weeks since I wrote to the Call, but we are having examinations in our school and I have not had time to write. Next Friday will be the last day of school until next spring. I would very much like to get acquainted with tlie little boy who lives in the lighthouse. I have never been very near to a lighthouse, and would like to know more about it. If we have much snow up here this winter, as it is a place where snow usually falls in the winter, the rotary snow-plow will come up here to work; and as we generally have from three to twenty feet of snow, I should liko some of the little children who live in San Francisco to como up here and sec what a wonderful thing it is. You will see inr-losed some answers to the puzzles of Dec. 13. I remain. Your little friend, Retha Waldan, C. R. C. Santa Cr.tz, Cal.. Dec. 20, 1896. Dear Editor: 1 am a little girl 112 years old and go to the Laurel School. lam in the sixth grade. I send you a puzzle, wishing to be come a member of the C. R. C. I love books very much and lam generally reading one. I like history the best of all. We had a fine time at school the last day. We Had a tree and a Santa Claus; Donald Kelsey was Santa clans. I hare a tine time in summer when many of mamma's old friends come to spend the sum mer here. Fearing that my letter might be getting too long I remain yours truly, Hettie Snydek. P. 8. Please print this letter. San Francisco, Dec 20, 1896. Dear Editor: Tnis is my lirst letter to you and I would like to join the C. R. C. I read the "Childhood's Realm" page every Sunday, and enjoy it very much. I always try the puz zles and sometimes get all of them. Have got them all to-day, but do not know if they are right. Igo to the Cleveland School and like my teacher very much. I am in tlie fifth grade and was No. 1 this month. We had a Christmas exhibition and 1 took part in it. I will be 10 years old next month and have a little sister named Jessie, 8 years old. Wish ing you a merry Cnrislmas, I remain your new friend, Fred Anther. 419 Tenth st. Trinidad, Dec. 19, 1896. Lear Editor: This is my second letter to The Call, and I was so glad to see my other one in print in The Call cf December 3. I llKe the children's* pasje, as it is nice to read the letters from the little boys and girls during the long winter evenings. It is so lonesome at a light house. Every night before I go to bed, mamma and Igo upstairs and look out of the window up the hill and watch a large deer that comes there every night. He likes to gaze at the light. When the ocean roars he stands for hall an hour and listens to it. My papa will not allow anyone to shoot him, because I enjoy his visits. Last week a steamer tried to come into oui wharL bat it was so rough it had to stay ont for twodays. I received a kind letter from an unknown Iriend, M. Eva Nnvone. I think ii Santa Ciaus gives any little boy or girl a bicycle for Christmas they ought vo be hai py, for I think a bicycle is the best thing ou'.Youi friend, Clinton E. Harringtoji. San Francisco, Dec. 22, l!*9^ Dear Editor: I was not sick at all. and to ice as great an interest as ever ia reading the etters, stories and contributions to p izzle dom. lam pleased alwnys to hear from old latniliar friends ana to see so many new names added to the C. R. C. list. A little friend of mi..c has been sick with scarlet fever Jor three weeks. Perhaps •ome of the boys and gir..i know her and would like to hear from her. Hjr name is May 1> . She is nine years of age, and lives at 917 Smisome street. She has neither brother nor sister, and hardly ever knew what means a niotner's love. Her mother died when she was but 2 years old. Since then she bus been Ciired lor by strangers. She is guarded like a prisoner. A notice on her door warning all passersby of a contagious disease scares all tier playmates away. By a special favor I was admitted, and it was with pity and dismay I saw the havoc that dread disease hud made on her pale and wasted tiny form. I wonder if Santa Claus is afraid of lever and it he will fill her little stocking on Christ mas eve. A merry Christmas and happy New Year to to you and all the members of C. R. C. and aspirants thereto is the sincere wish of your friend, Max Selig. Santa Rosa, Cal., Dec. 21, 189<i. Dear Editor: Tnis is my first letter to Thb Cai-l. My papa has taken The Call for a long time. lam 9 years old. I have a little sister 3 whose name is Mona. Christmas is coming and lam very glad. I like to read the Child hood's Realm. We used to live near Oakland before we moved up here on tne ranch, but I like the country best. Hoping to see my letter in the next Sunday's Call I shall close. Wish ing a 1 a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, I remain, your little friend, Bella Kneale. Alamfda, Cal., Dec. 22, 189 G. Dear Editor: We have guessed all the puz z'.es in last Sunday's paper but one, so jto thought we would send them in and 9*M± they were right. We are two schoolgirls, iTtr we reside near each other. We have uken The Call for a good many years, and we lika it very much. We like to guess the puzzles m Childhood's Realm, but we never thought of sending them in before. Hoping to see our letter In print next Sunday, we remain, yours truly, Lorktta Mortimer and Emma Leslie. Ban Francisco, Monday, Dec. 21, 180(5. Dear Editor: This is my hrst letter to Tub Call, for we just began to take it before the holidays. I enjoy reading the Childhood's Reaim very much, but would enjoy it more to have my name appear in it. Your new friend, Elsie Dewey. Cornwall, Cal., Dec. 23, 1896. Lear Editor: As I did not see my letter in last Sunday's Call I thought I would write again. I saw my name but not my letter. I solved some of the puzzles and will send them in. I will also send some puzzies in to be solved. I wonder what Santa Claus will bring me for Christinas. Hoping to see my letter in Sunday's Call this time, I remnin, Ethkl Wilds, C. R. C. P. 9.— Dear Editor, if you see Santa C'lhtu down where you live p'.ease tell him to come up to my house. Etiikl. PUZZLES , I. Hidden truits. (a) He appeared well to-day. (b) The little chap pleased his sister. (c) A suitable monument should be erected*. (d) A vessel of queer shape achieved th» honors of the day. Selected. 11. Oh! oh! exclaimed Tommy, My brain's in a ; If I don't do these , Fa will make such a fuss. Ohl here is something To bother me more 1 This lesson in French, I must o'er and o'er. "I wish," Tommy said, With a and a lrown, "I could be away, From this musty old town." There is a different word in each stanza to be transposed. May F. Merrill. 111. Anagram. Pay, hen, aye, warp. A greeting. Maida CLrrr, C. R. C. IV. Curtailing. (Drop final letter.) Curtail a bana of cattle and have a personal pronoun. Jessik Harkin, C. R. C. V. Curtail a wild animal and have a minis ter. VI. Behead a laboring article and have a fastening. Five and six. by Era>L Wilds, C. R. C. VII. PI. Tmtmhehennnaooi. Something we »cc in the sky. Claire McCli ke, 6 years old, C. K. C. WORD SQUARE& VIII. 1. Wish. 2. Unsealed. 3. Hang. 4. Closet. IX. 1-Halt. 2. BraiU. 3. To unclose. 4. small inclosures for animals. Ida Wightman, C. R. C. X. 1. A small particle. 2. Portion of a fork. 3. At one time. 4. To come together. Ethel McCixre, C. R. C. /\r\sWers for December 20. I. Spine— pine. 11. Scorn— corn. 111. (a) Amy. (6) Ethel. IV. Ice+v=Vice. V. Santa Claus. VI. (a) Brake— baker. (6) Stake— steak. (c) Master— stream. ' (d) Nails— snail. VIL A heavenly body— STAR Gentle- TAME An ancient prophet— A M O 8 To repose— REST (A misprint occurred in last.) VIII. Jack and Jill, etc. IX. A Merry Chris tmag. Letters Acknowledged. Pleasant communications have also been re ceved from the boys and Kills whose names follow: Claire McClure, Carrie Mill ?, Bennie Mills Ethel Wilds, Beckie Heino, Clinton E. HaTington, Addie F. Barley, May Carroll, Irene A. Moore, Helen Siiyder and Marie Che* worth, C. R. C. jslames of Puzzle-SolVers. Answers to puzzles of December 20 have been received from the following members ol C. R. C: Max Selig, Ethel McClure, Retha Waldan end Alice Bell. For December 13 from Jessie Harkin. Answers from non-members for December 20: Fred Anther, May Carroll, Maida Cluff, Mignon de Sannon, Ethel Wilds, L. Mortimer and Emma Leslie.