where one might suppose the clerk of the unreliable elements to reside, and which is certainly tenanted by a gay old lady, who comes out when the sun shines, and a military gentleman, who, disregarding catarrh, parades in front of the cottage whenever there is a rain-cloud in the sky. In this case the figures are held on a kind of lever sustained by catgut: this, being very sensitive to moisture, twists and shortens on damp days, and untwists and lengthens as the air becomes dry and light.
A simple hygrometer can be made by a piece of catgut and a straw. The catgut, twisted, is put through a hole in a dial, in which a straw is also placed. In dry weather the catgut curls up; in damp, it relaxes; and so the straw is turned either to the one side or the other. Straws do something more than "show which way the wind blows," you see.
Another simple weather-gauge may be made by stretching whip-cord or catgut over five pulleys. To the lower end of the string a small weight is attached, and this rises and falls by the side of a graduated scale as the moisture or dryness of the air shortens or lengthens the string.
Again, whip-cord, well-dried, may be hung against a wainscot, a small plummet affixed to it, and a line drawn at the precise spot it falls to.
The plummet will be found to rise before rain, and fall when the prospect brightens.
Another device is to take a clean, unpainted strip of pine--say, twenty inches long, one wide, and a quarter of an inch thick--cut _across the grain_; then have a piece of cedar of the same size, but cut _along the grain_. Let these be glued together and set upright in a stand.
Before a rain-fall the pores of the pine will absorb moisture, and swell until the whole forms a bow; this will gradually straighten on the approach of fine weather.
There are two forms in which a balance is used that are interesting from the natural laws that govern their motions. In one a dry sponge that has been saturated in salt and water is nicely balanced against a small weight at the opposite end. The sponge becomes heavier or lighter according to the presence or absence of moisture, and any variation in this respect may be noted on the gauge above, to which the index finger on a dial points.
The simplest plan of all, and as good as any, is to place in an accurate pair of scales on one side a one-pound weight; on the other, one pound of well-dried salt. This swells and grows heavier on the approach of rain; when brighter skies return, the one-pound weight asserts itself once more.
[Illustration: VACATION DAYS--THE REASON WHY BOB COULD NOT GO A-FISHING.]
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
So many of our correspondents are collecting birds' eggs and nests that we wish to call their attention to some important points. Never take all the eggs in a nest, because if you do you will leave the poor mother bird very desolate. You can always take some from each nest, and still leave enough to make a pretty little brood of young birdlings. In some nests you will find eight or ten eggs, and then you may take three or four. But if there are but three eggs, you must take only one. Always be sure to leave more than half. Be careful to gather them before the mother bird begins to set, because when her brooding-time has begun she is very jealous of her nest, and is easily frightened away; and then if the eggs have begun to harden and form young birds, they are useless to you, for you can not blow them, and they will soon change color and become worthless.
Never take a nest until the mother has flown away with her little ones and left it empty; for to disturb the pretty home the bird has built with so much care for her babies is a wanton cruelty we trust no reader of YOUNG PEOPLE would be guilty of.
MONTEREY, CALIFORNIA.
I like YOUNG PEOPLE ever so much. I always read the letters in Our Post-office Box the first thing--they seem so sociable, as if all the children knew each other well. I enjoy "The Moral Pirates" and the Information Cards. My home is in San Francisco, but at present I am visiting in Monterey, a small town on the coast. Monterey is the oldest town in California. It was first settled by the Spanish, and the greater part of the inhabitants now are Spaniards. On a little knoll near the beach, and within a stone's-throw of the water's edge, there is a large wooden cross; it is the spot where the Spanish fathers first landed, and the date on the cross is June 3, 1770.
I think this is the queerest old town imaginable. Almost all the houses are "adobe" houses, that is, made of a kind of black mud, then whitewashed, and they have tiled roofs. And around the gardens are high adobe walls. Nearly all of these adobe houses are fifty years old, and some of them are said to have been built one hundred years ago. I am gathering some abalone and other kinds of shells, and some fine sea-mosses, and when I get home I expect to make lots of pretty things. I love to play on the beach, and pick up pretty little things, and run out after the waves, then turn and let them chase me back; sometimes they catch me, and give my feet a good soaking; but I don't care, for I like it, only I look like a fright by the time I get back to the hotel.
I have been sailing on the Pacific Ocean, and was not a bit seasick, but I was never on the Atlantic. I wish some of the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE that live on the Atlantic coast would tell me if they find pretty shells, and if they get abalone shells and sea-moss on the Atlantic coast as we do here on this coast.
IDA B. D.
RUSSELL, KANSAS.
When I read the good stories about little folks which come every week in YOUNG PEOPLE, it makes me want to tell all the little friends about something that happened last summer while we were living in Denver, near the Rocky Mountains. One day mamma put some lunch in a pail, and said brother Lolie and I could go up on the bluffs along the Platte River to gather wild flowers and cactus plants, and have a good day's sport. When the whistles at the workshops in the city blew for noon, we sat down on the bluffs to eat our dinner. We could see over to the big high mountains, which reached almost up to the clouds. They looked as though they were only a mile or two away, though papa told us afterward that they were nearly fourteen miles off; but the air is so clear that it made them look much nearer. It seemed as if we could go over to them and back before night. We put our shoes and stockings under a pile of railroad ties, and started up the track toward Morrison, which is at the foot of the mountains. As often as we got tired we stopped to rest and talk about what we could do when we were men.
Brother was almost ten years old, and I was eleven. The sun went down out of sight behind the mountain-tops, which were covered with ice and snow, and as it grew dark we walked faster, and when it got so dark we could hardly see only to follow the track, we were in the middle of a large prairie. We began to think of snakes and wolves and bears, which we had heard were in such places, so we did not stop any more to rest. We finally saw a light away off in a field, and we went toward it as fast as ever we could. When we got to the house, it was after eleven o'clock, and we were very tired and hungry. Grandma says if I tell all about our journey the next day--how we got to the mountains and home again, and how frightened mamma and papa and little sister were about us--your waste basket would not hold it all; so good-by.
From your little reader, ARTIE R. H.
VERGENNES, VERMONT.
My home is in Madison, Wisconsin, but I am visiting my grandmother in Vermont, near Lake Champlain. Next week we are going to the mountains for a ride, and to enjoy the grand view.
The Reform School is located here. It is for boys and girls. They are well taken care of, but I'd rather be a good girl than a reform girl.
My mamma and I are going back to Wisconsin in September. I shall be very glad to see my little cousin Harry and my dog Gip.
I like YOUNG PEOPLE very much, and all the boys and girls that write letters for Our Post-office Box. I am seven years old. My name is Helen, but they call me
PUSSY K.
NYACK, NEW YORK.
I am a little girl nine years old. I have read all the numbers of YOUNG PEOPLE, and like them very much. I have two pet kittens and a big Newfoundland dog. We call the dog Beppo. I have three brothers, and one sister, whose name is Edna, but she is not the one who sent an answer to Wiggle No. 12.
KATIE M. G.
SEA GIRT, NEW JERSEY.
This is a splendid place to find land and water turtles. I have several, which I feed on mushrooms, meat, and insects. Soft-shell crabs are liked very much by water turtles, if they are very fresh.
I would be very glad to send some pressed arbutus to Carrie Harding, but it has done blooming for this year. I would like to exchange other kinds of pressed flowers with her.
I tried the recipe for doll's cup-cake sent by Bessie L. S., and liked it very much.
DAISY VIOLET M.
I noticed Sidney B. P.'s question about feeding and caring for young mocking-birds. Blackberries are good food for them when they are about three weeks old. The yolk of an egg boiled hard and mashed fine with a boiled Irish potato is also good. Feed the birds about every hour, and after they are through eating give them about a tea-spoonful of fresh water, which you will have to pour down their throats.
When the birds are very young they must not be put in a wire cage, as they will injure themselves fluttering against the bars. Put them in a small box, with a piece of mosquito netting fastened over the top. Do not take them from the nest too young--never until they are eight or ten days old--as they will die.
I have already asked to exchange stamps with the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE, and I would like the following stamp, if any one can send it to me: United States War Department, ninety cents, red.
HARRY S. KEALHOFER, 121 Adams Street, Memphis, Tennessee.
Fannie T. D., of Atlanta, Georgia, sends the following additional directions for the care of full-grown mocking birds: