_Clintie_ from Massachusetts. Dear little boy, we welcome you to our garden. Fretful words are troublesome weeds; and it is sometimes a great temptation to use them to those who are _in_ our family, but not _of_ it. I am glad you are pledged to watch their growth. Those who are all the time away from their homes and friends, need our help in every possible way. _Emily_ from Connecticut. Dear! dear! these _tongues_. What shall we do with them! And yet, what would we do without them? It is so easy to think of some bright little word to say in return, at just the moment when we ought to keep quiet. I read of a boy who kept a clothes pin in his pocket, ready to clap on his tongue when he was tempted to speak words which he ought not. But I think there are better checks than clothes pins. Don't you? _Lulu_ from New York. Another Blossom from the "Snow!" You are welcome. "Slang" is a word which covers a very disagreeable habit indeed. It astonishes me to see how many people who think themselves cultivated, indulge in it. I have noticed that it is sometimes connected with the other weed of which you speak. By all means get rid of them both, keeping the "Whisper Motto" in mind. _Bertha_ and _Stella_ from Iowa. It is natural enough to like to play rather than to work. I presume men and women who work hard would often rather play. The great difference between people is, that some of them do what they would rather not, because it is duty; and some of them do what they would rather, because they _want_ to. I am glad to think of Bertha as belonging to the first class; for the others are rather worthless people. As for the dear little Blossom who describes herself in this way: There was a little girl, and she had a little curl, Right in the middle of her forehead; And when she was good, she was very, _very_ good, And when she was bad, she was _horrid_, truth compels me to say that she has a great many brothers and sisters! But Stella is not to belong to their family any more. _Mabel_ from New York. I once had a kitchen girl who was a source of great amusement to my family because she fretted about everything. One morning I said to her: "Rebecca, we are going to have a rainy day, I fear." "Of course we are," she answered; "as sure as I have a large wash, and need sunshine especially _much_, it is sure to rain." An hour afterwards the sun was shining brightly. As I went through the wash-room I said to Rebecca, "It didn't rain after all, did it? See what beautiful air for drying clothes." "Oh yes," she said, "sun hot enough to bake me just as I am ready to hang out clothes; that is always the way." The fact was, poor Rebecca in her younger days had contracted such a habit of fretting, that she really seemed unable to find a bright side to anything. I am glad you are pledged against such an enemy.