Of one thing the little fellow may be sure,—­Jack and the Deacon, and the dear, blessed Little School-ma’am, will stand by him to the end.  And so will you, my chicks, Jack verily believes.  He’ll be a good friend to you, bringing you any amount of fun, and telling you more good things every month than you’ll remember in a thousand years.

Now we’ll take up our next subject.

AN ARTIFICIAL HORSE THAT CAN GO.

Well, well!  The birds must be joking, for who ever heard of a bird telling a deliberate lie?  And yet it may be true.  There have been artificial men,—­manikins, automata, or whatever they are called,—­so why shouldn’t there be artificial horses?

Come to think of it, it was not the birds who told me about them.  It was a letter; and “artificial horses” the letter said, as plainly as could be.  It told how a fine specimen had just been exhibited in the capital of Prussia.  The thing must look like a horse, too, for it is a hobby between two high wheels (the rider sits on the saddle), and it travels about as rapidly as a trotting horse.  As I understand it, the rider moves his legs to make the machine go, and yet it isn’t a bicycle.  It goes over stony roads, turns corners, and, for aught Jack knows, rears and kicks like any ordinary charger—­that is, when it’s out of order.

I should like to see one among the boys of the red school-house.  How they would make it go!

    A LETTER FROM DEACON GREEN.

DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT:  I wish some of the boys and girls who think they never have any chance to read could know a little fellow of my acquaintance, named George.  He is fourteen years old and employed as errand boy in a business house in New York.  All day long he runs, runs,—­up-town, down-town, across town,—­until you would suppose that his little legs would be worn out.  But, always on the alert as he is, and ready to do his duty whether tired or not, he still keeps constantly before his mind the idea of self-improvement, in business and out.  Through a friend he has of late been able to procure books from the Mercantile Library.  Although his time during the day, as I have said, is wholly taken up with his duties, yet he managed, during the evenings of last fall and winter (in five months), to read twelve books, some of them quite long ones and some of them in two volumes, all selected with his friend’s assistance.  From the list, I fancy the little fellow had an eye to enjoyment as well as profit, for they are not all what are called instructive books, although every one of them is a good book for a boy to read, and George tells me he enjoyed them all heartily.

As many of your youngsters, friend Jack, may like to know just what books the little fellow has read, I will give you the list that he wrote out at my request.  It does not seem a very long list, perhaps, but I think very few hard-working