1888 
The RURAL. NEW-YORKER 
Memory Verse 
Our Christmas tree is an evergreen; 
It grows where frost and snow are seen; 
Our Christmas tree is forever bright; 
It shines with everlasting light. 
•—Selected. 
Come, go with me for a Christmas tree! 
What fun! Bundle up warmly. It is 
cold. Put on coats and sweaters, boots 
and leggings, mittens and toques. Are 
we ready? Hurrah! I have the ax. 
Let’s go down the road toward the 
water. Some cedars down there are too 
close together. We w r ill find a nice one. 
Look at the squirrel. He must have 
a hiekorynut f-rom that big tree. See him 
sit up and chatter at us. There he goes! 
Now what is that twittering? Do you 
hear it? Birds! I see them! There, 
ahead in the bushes! A whole flock, 
gray showing white on their tails when 
they fly. Juncoes, you say. Bight! 
They are eating weed seeds. 
Here we are at the shore. Doesn’t the 
water look blue and cold? Not much 
like last Summer when we went swim¬ 
ming. There is a clump of cedars. How 
pretty they are, so green and shapely. 
That will be a good one, don’t you think 
so? It will hardly be missed, either. I 
will cut it close down, so! Now who is 
going tto carry it? Oh, all of us together. 
Careful, then ! Here we go ! 
Home again! Let’s set the tree up in 
the sitting room. How good it smells. 
The whole house wil! be full of it. It 
looks fine without trimming, doesn’t it? 
But tonight' we will fix it up with tinsel 
and popcorn and colored balls and can¬ 
dles, and all the other things that will 
change it from a cedar into a Christmas 
tree. 
So I have my tree, boys and girls. Now 
I will go with you for yours. I wish you 
would write and tell me about it. Some 
of you will be able to find trees on your 
own farms, as I do. They may not be 
cedars. They may be pines, or spruces, 
or firs, or hemlocks. I wonder how many 
kinds of Christmas trees there will be in 
the homes where The It. N.-Y. goes? 
Some of you may have to go to other 
farms or to wild places for trees. Do 
not fail to ask the owners if you may cut 
the trees. They will usually be glad to 
let you do it. but no one likes to have 
his trees cut when he is not looking. 
After all, that is stealing, isn’t it? 
Christmas time is here. It is the hap¬ 
piest time of the year. It is giving time; 
it is receiving time; it is laughing, sing¬ 
ing. loving time. It is a very special 
time for boys and girls. I hope that 
Santa Claus will be good to every one of 
you—as good as you deserve. 
A Merry Christmas and a Happy New 
Year to you all! 
They Like Our Page—Do You? 
Here are some of the things that I 
find in your letters: 
Bobert B., Indiana, says: “I was glad 
to see the page for boys and girls. I am 
interested in the page. I hope you will 
send it right along. I know I will like it 
very well.” 
Mary M.. New York, writes: “I saw 
the page for boys and girls and was glad 
to have it. I want to help make the page 
better.” 
Elsie E., New York, says: “My father 
takes The B. N.-Y. and my grandfather 
does. too. They think it is the best farm 
paper there is. I am glad we are gouig 
to have a page for boys and girls. I like 
to read.” 
Eileen E., New Jersey, says: “I was 
just reading our page, so I thought I 
would write and let you know how much 
I appreciate it. I certainly will tell all 
the other children about this, and get 
them to help. Maybe you can’t answer 
this letter, but nevertheless I will keep 
on writing.” 
That is the spirit, Eileen! If we all 
get behind Our Page that way it will 
grow better and better. 
Don’t Forget the Birds 
Mildred H., Pennsylvania, writes: “I 
like to feed birds and hear them sing. I 
made three birdhouses, and put them up 
last Summer. In every one the old birds 
hatched little ones. Once I had a bird 
in my hand, but I soon let it fly because 
I thought it would rather fly than have 
me hold it. My cousin caught it for me.” 
I am glad Mildred let the bird go. 
This is not just what I meant about hav¬ 
ing a bird in your hand. I meant having 
one come and light there and eat without 
being held. They will do it, especially 
Boys and Girls 
By Edward M. Tuttle 
Fathers and Mothers: Will you tell your children that The Rural New- 
Yorker now has a Department each month of special interest to them. 
tLe chickadees, but we have to be very 
patient and wait for them to feel we are 
their friends. These cold Winter morn¬ 
ings be sure to give the bii'ds some food 
before you start for school. 
What Is Mike? 
Phyllis B., New Jersey, writes: “I 
wish to know whether Mike is a dog or 
a cat. Will you tell me?” 
Dear me! I thought I had made it so 
clear that Phyllis and the rest of you 
could be sure. But perhaps I didn’t. 
Anyway, I have been out to the barn to 
tell Mike about it, and to ask him what 
I should do. But all he said was “Pr-r-r 
—pr-r-r-r.” 
An Interesting Letter 
I like this letter so much that I am let¬ 
ting you all read it. Then I will tell 
you why I like it: 
December 1, 1910. 
Dear Friend : I have just been read¬ 
ing our children’s age. My father takes 
The B. N.-Y., and his eyesight is not very 
good, so I read it to him. I am a little 
girl nine years old. I have to go five miles 
to school, and when 1 get home I wash 
the cream separator and dishes and help 
papa get the horses and cows nights. 
We have a calf we call Mosquito. She 
is a Jersey calf, so she must be a Jersey 
mosquito, but she has hair like a buffalo. 
Papa bought me three rabbits, two 
girls and a boy, and since then I have 
found eight little rabbits. They are aw¬ 
fully cute. They do all sorts of physical 
stunts. They beat school stunts all hol¬ 
low. 
We have got six pigs. They aren’t far 
behind on doing physical stunts when 
they call for yellow ears of corn. 
Say, we can’t forget our thi'ee cats, 
Nigger, Charcoal and Tubby, when the 
mice and rats get in sight! 
By the tune of this letter you may 
think I am a jolly girl, but I have a 
mamma in the hospital. She has been 
there t’wo years, and probably will not 
come out alive. I wear my overalls and 
rubber boots, and might as well be cheer¬ 
ful and not cry over spilt milk. I am 
a genuine American gild. Ida s. 
New York. 
I think Ida is a jolly girl. I am glad 
she can see the funny, happy things that 
happen. She has to work hard, and it is 
not easy to have mother away from home 
and so very sick. This does not mean 
that Ida does not feel deeply. But as 
she says, there is no use making a long, 
things will be pretty near right. 
I like to think of Ida reading The 
B. N.-Y. tto her father. I wonder if she 
reads him “Our Page,” too. That is a 
long way to go to school! The main rea¬ 
son why I like this letter is that I know 
Ida wrote it lienself. It sounds that way, 
and it looked that way. There were 
some mistakes in spelling, for Ida used 
words she has not learned to spell yet. I 
have made them right, as I know she 
would want them when the letter is 
printed. We don’t mind a few mistakes 
when they are honest ones. The main 
thing we want is life and spirit and inter¬ 
est. We want tto be like Ida—genuine 
American girls and boys. 
The Girls Write Oftenest 
It is interesting that most of the letters 
so far are from girls. Good for you, 
gilds! 
What About It, Boys? 
Are you going to let the girls beat you? 
Of course, I know that you don’t like to 
write letters. You would rather go skat¬ 
ing, or sliding, or trapping. I have been 
a boy, too, you know, and not so very 
long ago, either. But, honestly, I think 
we need your help. And perhaps you 
will like to read the page more if we 
December 27, 1919 
have a few letters each time from real 
red-blooded, wideawake boys. Tell us 
what you are doing, work or play, in 
school, out of school. 
Here is a good boy’s letter; 
Since my father was writing The B. 
N.-Y. a few lines, I thought I would write 
a letter to the “Boys’ and Girls’ ” page. 
I am a boy 10 years old—little past—and 
I had a little sister sick with scarlet fever, 
so I was kept home from school, and my 
father did not have help, so I helped him 
husk corn, and I husked a stack every 
time he would husk three. It was pretty 
hard, but I stuck to it till we got it done. 
We got it done on Thanksgiving Day, 
and I was thankful. I also do some trap¬ 
ping. I have caught three skunks and 
a ’possum. I think that is pretty good 
for a boy of my age, don’t you? 
New Jersey. Albert F. 
I do, Albert. And I think the corn 
husking was pretty good, too. Do you 
know the things I like best about it? 
stack and pretend to be doing a lot while 
he did the most. Of course, you could 
not do as many as he, but I know he was 
glad for every stack you did. The second 
thing I like is that you stuck to it until 
the job was done. You didn’t quit. 
Stick-to-ltiveness 
This is one of the hard things to learn. 
It is one of the best we can have, once 
we learn it. The farm is a fine place to 
practice sticking to jobs. Do you know 
when I think about this most? It' is 
when I am milking. At first, ivhen the 
milk flows fast, it is easy. But, by and 
by, near the end, the milk does not come 
so well, and it is harder to keep at it 
until the cow is dry. I have to keep 
saying to myself, “Milk her dry. Milk 
her dry. Don’t quit till the job is done.” 
Some day we will be glad to have the 
power to stick to a job. It will mean the 
difference between success and failure. 
Lillian S., New Jersey writes: “The 
baby certainly does appreciate Tiie B. 
N.-Y., as do all of the family. We can 
hardly wait for Fridays to arrive, because 
that is the day our rural mail carrier 
brings the faithful paper. It is so inter¬ 
esting that we all make a dive for it. 
Here are helpful hints for father, mother, 
young and old children, and even the baby 
is delighted with the homelike pictures 
of cows, chickens and horses. Most of 
all, I am interested in the “Woman’s 
Page” and the “Boys’ and Girls’" page. 
I was so delighted to hear that we were 
going to have our own page, which en¬ 
ables the magazine to be called a family 
magazine. The writings in November’s 
page were greatly enjoyed, and I think 
it would be very nice if all of the boys 
and girls would try to write some inter¬ 
esting articles and see if we can’t make 
the children’s page the most interesting 
in the paper. I suppose December’s let¬ 
ters will pertain to Christmas, and stir 
the happy spirit in our hearts when we 
read them. I am waiting patiently for 
the December number.” 
An Old Friend 
December 3, 1919. 
Dear Mr. Tuttle : Perhaps you do not 
recognize my name, but I have written 
to you before. It was before we had our 
long struggle with the war. 
I am 14 now, and hope to complete my 
preliminary this June. My birthday is 
in June. As I was reading The B. N.-Y. 
tonight I read of the girl who had to 
walk to school, and her mother was sick. 
It made it very hard for her. If you 
have her address. I wish you would please 
tell me. I would like to write to her. 
Perhaps I can cheer her up a bit. 
I will not bother you to read any more. 
Will tell you what we are going to have 
for Christmas in my next letter. 
Your friend. 
New York. lois R. 
Lois is not the only one who mentions 
the girl we called “Elsie” last month. 
I am sorry that I cannot give the address. 
The letter came with just the initials and 
the name of the State. Lois’ letter is a 
sign of how “Our Page” is going to work 
out, how we will be interested in each 
other, how we will find that we are not 
the only ones with hard things, and how 
many are ready with kind woi'ds and 
warm friendship. 
Bedtime 
It is time to go to bed. I must stop 
writing and sleep. On the farm w r e get 
up early, don’t we? I hope you will like 
“Our Page” this time. You see how 
much you have helped to make it. Be 
sure when you write to me tto address the 
letter to 333 West 30th Street, New York 
City, in care of The Bural New-Yorker. 
sad face about it. Keep smiling, do the 
work there is to do, look on the bright The first is that you took a stack of your 
side, try to help others all you can, and own each time and husked all of it. You 
didn’t do a few stalks on your father’s 
