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The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, December 27, 1896, Image 24

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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.

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