James has a chum, Charles McCormick, who is almost as badly off as himself—­perhaps you will think him worse off.  He was born deaf and dumb, and when three years old he fell on the railroad track and the cars cut off both his arms!  These two boys love each other dearly.  They go into the woods together to gather flowers.  Charles goes first because he has the eyes, and when he finds the flowers he stoops down and touches them with the stump of his arm, while James passes his hand down his friend’s shoulder and picks them!  So they do together what neither could do alone, and both are as happy as birds!—­Your friend,

    E.S.  MILLER.

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    Hampstead, England.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS:  I am eleven years old, and this is the first time I have ever written to you, so I am going to tell you about my dear little squirrel, “Bob.”  He is beautifully soft, and his back and head are gray, but his legs and tail are red; he has four long teeth, and he bites very much, if we vex him.  He eats nuts and fruit, and he is very fond of bread and milk.  When we had him first, he used to run up the curtains and bite them all into holes.  Every Sunday he would be brought downstairs while we were at dinner, and papa would give him nuts; but he got so cross that papa would not let him come down again.  In the summer, we brought out his cage into the garden; but one Sunday papa opened the cage door, and out jumped Bob.  He ran to the wall (which was all covered with ivy), and began to climb it; but papa caught him by his hind-leg and stopped him, and he gave papa such a bite on his hand.  So I would not let him go out again.  Last summer, mamma took us all down to Wales; but it was too far to take Bob, so we left him to my governess, who took him home with her.  But one unlucky day she let him out in the conservatory, and did not shut the window; so he got a chance and ran away out into the road, and he did not come back.  She offered a reward, and two days afterward he was found outside the window of an empty house.  Soon after that we all came home, and I was very glad to see Bob again, naughty as he was.  There is a very funny thing which I ought to have told about first; it is that my Bob was brought up by a cat, and not in the woods at all.  I do not think there is anything more to tell you about him.—­I am your little reader,

    LAURA B. LEWIS.

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    HOW TO MAKE A FAIRY FOREST.