ave just
finished, which you would like to lend her. Do something kind for
somebody, and stop thinking about yourself. The greatest waste of time
in this world, dears, is to think too much about one's self. Mrs.
Browning gives the right idea in her poem, "My Kate," where she says,

"'Twas her thinking of others made you think of her."

Don't laugh at me, girls, when I tell you that half the low spirits one
hears of springs from a very prosaic source. That pound of chocolates,
that rich pudding, that piece of frosted cake, all of them very
delicious, but all very indigestible, are to blame, in most instances,
for a young girl's depression. Try what Emerson called "plain living and
high thinking," and see how cheery life will become.

One of my girls writes that she had a vexatious little problem. She has
been accustomed to correspond freely with one or two friends--boys of
her own age--and "people tell her it is wrong." My dear child, pray
explain whom you mean by "people," and what they have to do with it?

Of course you do not write letters to any one without your mother's
approval, and I suppose your mother reads your letters, that you love to
share all those you receive with her, and that you show her those you
write. If you do this, nobody else is concerned. A girl should write no
letters, and should receive none, which she is not only willing but very
glad to show to her mother. When she has had the great misfortune to
lose her mother, then her aunt, or her elder sister, or some kind
matronly friend should be her confidante. It makes no difference to whom
she writes, if only she does it openly, and with the sympathy, advice,
and loving approval of those who are older than she, and able to guide
her.

[Illustration: Signature]

OFF WITH THE MERBOY.

BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS.

CHAPTER IV.

THE BUREAU OF INFORMATION.

[Illustration: Decorative J]

immieboy took the reins in hand, and the Merboy sprang lightly out of
the carriage, and by means of his tail wiggled himself to where the
bureau stood. He opened the top drawer, and from where he sat Jimmieboy,
who was watching him with a great deal of interest, could see that it
was divided up into sections, in each of which lay a dozen or more large
envelopes, each fat with contents of some kind or another.

"I guess this must be the information I want about your lockjaw," said
the Merboy, picking up an envelope. "Yes," he continued, as he took
grea