Sly little Hughie, who is trying with his toy cane to pull off poor nurse's cap, does not deserve a taste of candy. As for the little boy who is drinking out of the pitcher, and the kitties that wait so patiently to find out whether they are to have any milk after all the fuss, we hardly know what to think. Some cats love candy, and some boys think a drink is much more delicious if taken in a troublesome way.
If you should have a candy pull, be sure that you let everybody have a share of the work, and when the frolic is over, think whether there is not some little sick boy or girl, or some poor family, who have not many pleasures, and send away a boxful of candy to these friends the next day. I wouldn't be surprised if you should write to me in this fashion: "Dear Aunt Marjorie,--The best part of our candy pull was the postscript." See if you don't.
A little Breeze crept slyly out the other day from under the wing of his mother, the great North Wind. To his surprise he found a crowd of Breezes and Zephyrs who had wakened an hour or two earlier than he. They were rushing here and there, and frolicking with everything they saw. A very pompous old gentleman with a gold-headed cane was walking down the street, and a naughty Breeze whisked off his hat and wig. "Take care of yourself!" said the Wind to the Breeze; "such behavior is very wrong." A boy was carrying a kitten in a basket. He was taking it away to give it to his aunt Mary. Presto! a Breeze whirled away his cap, and another one peered into the basket, and out flew Miss Kittykins, and ran home as fast as four velvet paws could carry her. The Breezes blew against the shutters and broke the windows, and dashed around the corners, and had the merriest time; and they are having it still. The Postmistress says she is glad of it, for March is a jolly month, and all the while that he is tearing about with his troop of whistling Winds and his crew of rioting Gales he is preparing the way for the gentle maiden Spring to come in earnest.
And kite-time's here too, isn't it, boys?
We live on the bank of the Mystic River, and have a view of Bunker Hill Monument, which is just opposite to us, on the Charlestown side of the river. There is also on Bunker Hill a beautiful bronze statue of Colonel Prescott. Our home is very pretty, and in the summer we row in our boat on the river. The tide rises and falls twice a day five or six feet. When it is low, and the rocks and beach are bare, we find a great many star-fish. They have five points, just like a star. The eye is in the middle. We dry them on a board, and keep them as curiosities.