So we hope Harry will take care of His Widow Mother, all the) rest of His days) M.J.W. * * * * * Here is a nice letter that a little girl wrote to her mother nearly thirty-three years ago. The little girl was away from her town home on a visit to the country for the sake of her health; and all that she wrote in the letter was true. Mr. McDonald's, October 1st, 1845. MY DEAR MOTHER: I wish my arms were long enough to reach two miles, I want to give you a good hug, I am so glad you let me come out here. I was a little bit afraid last night, the horse was so high, and it was so dark. I never rode on a horse in the dark before, you know. It was so dark in the woods I could not see anything, but my eyes would stay so wide open they hurt me. I held as tight to Mr. George as I could; I felt as though some big thing was just going to snatch me off the horse, all the time; my fingers felt like they were full of pins when I let go. Everything does taste so good out here, and the air is so clean. I stretched out my arms to it this morning, it felt so good. We have a play-house on the rocks; it has two fire-places. They are made out of flat stones, and inside of the big stones we set up two smaller stones, and lay a flat one across, and there we do our cooking. We are going to have a party to-night, and have been busy all day getting ready. All the good things are cooked, waiting till night, when Mac will be home. We have three splendid baked apples, and three eggs roasted in the ashes, but we have only two pies. We could only find two blacking-box lids, and as these are our pie-pans, we have only two pies. We washed and scoured the black all off, and they looked as nice as Sophia's tins, which she will never let us touch at home. Our biscuits are not as nice quite as hers, it was so hard to make them round, and our range don't bake on both sides, so we had to turn them over to get both sides cooked. Our things all look very good, and I am real hungry for them, but you know it would not do to eat the party before Mac comes. We have made wreaths of maple-leaves, to wear on our heads to-night, one for Mac, too. We thought it would do for a boy to wear a wreath as long as there are so few of us, and the leaves are so pretty; and as it is my birthday, I have some leaves basted all around my blue dress, and it looks lovely. I must stop now. Give my love to all. Take good care of Fideli, and kiss all around for your loving daughter, JULIA. * * * * * Clifton, Iroquois County, Ill.