“DEAR SIR AND HONNORED FRIEND.—­I take This chance To Write To you To tell You that I am Well, And that we are all well Except Your father, who Is sick; and I hope you are Enjoying the same Blessin.  We had An Awful fight, And I was There, and I was One of The Captings.  I had a sord on; and the next Mornin we had a grate Brekfast.  But nobody Eat anything but me, And I was obliged to eat, Or the Wittles would have spoiled.  The Mob had Guns as Big as Cannun; And they Shot them Off, and the holes Are in The Shutter yet; And when You come Back, I will show them to You.  Your Father is very bad; And I Have gone back to school, And I am Licked every day because I don’t Know my Lesson.  A great big boy, with white woolly hair and Pinkish Grey eyes, has got Your seat.  I Put a Pin under him one Day, And he told On me; and We Are to Have a fight tomorrow.  The boys Call Him ’Short and Dirty,’ because he ain’t tall, and never washes His Face.  We Have got a new Teacher for the 5th Division.  He’s a Scorcher, And believes in Rat Tan.  I am to Wear My new Cloths Next Sunday.  Excuse This long letter.  Your Friend till death,

“KINCH SANDERS DE YOUNGE.

[Illustration:  skull and cross bones]

“P.S.  This it the best Skull and Cross-bones That
I can make.  Come home soon, Yours &c.,

“K.  S. DE YOUNGE, ESQ.”

Charlie could not but smile through his tears, as he read this curious epistle, which was not more remarkable for its graceful composition than its wonderful chirography.  Some of the lines were written in blue ink, some in red, and others in that pale muddy black which is the peculiar colour of ink after passing through the various experiments of school-boys, who generally entertain the belief that all foreign substances, from molasses-candy to bread-crumbs, necessarily improve the colour and quality of that important liquid.

“Why every other word almost is commenced with a capital; and I declare he’s even made some in German text,” cried Charlie, running his finger mirthfully along the lines, until he came to “Your father is very bad.”  Here the tears came welling up again—­the shower had returned almost before the sun had departed; and, hiding his face in his hands, he leant sobbing on the table.

“Cheer up, Charlie!—­cheer up, my little man! all may go well yet.”

“Mrs. Bird,” he sobbed, “you’ve been very kind to me; yet I want to go home.  I must see mother and father.  You see what Esther writes,—­they want me to come home; do let me go.”

“Of course you shall go, if you wish.  Yet I should like you to remain with me, if you will.”

“No, no, Mrs. Bird, I mustn’t stay; it wouldn’t be right for me to remain here, idle and enjoying myself, and they so poor and unhappy at home.  I couldn’t stay,” said he, rising from the table,—­“I must go.”

“Well, my dear, you can’t go now.  Sit down and finish your breakfast, or you will have a head-ache.”