Call it what you will, not a Blossom of you but would have liked to be there, and help fold that paper; and your mothers would have enjoyed it, at least, almost as well. Why? Well, principally because of the little dots at home, which they saw they could delightfully entertain, as well as teach, in this way; and because of the tall boy, who yet is a trifle puzzled over fractions. It would be so easy with those nice sticks, which followed the papers, to show him how to do it. Then the blocks, cunning little squares, and triangles, and all sorts of shapes; and what delightful things they would build, to be sure! Do you know, I fancied I saw every Blossom of mine, who has a sister or brother, four, five, six years old, who must be entertained very often by your puzzled selves, sitting in that tabernacle, eager listeners and workers, getting new and bright thoughts every minute as to how you could combine pleasure with instruction; and while little sister thought she was having a "perfectly splendid time" in your care, she would really be learning lessons which would help her all her life. Didn't I wish you were there! But since you were not, and I couldn't reach to call you, why, I will tell you about it now, and fill your hearts with vain regrets. Listen, my Blossoms. Kindergarten; that is the name, remember. Is there one in the city where you go, sometimes, to visit? By all means take a morning or two, and visit it, and run away with some pretty ideas to help you amuse the little sisters. Or perhaps it is in the very city where you live, but too far away for the little sister or brother to attend; still, by all means, go _you_, as a guest occasionally; and my word for it, you will be richly repaid. Such wonders can be done with bright paper, and blocks, and a strong needle with bright-colored silks. Miss Ross was our teacher, in Florida, last winter; and much did we enjoy the privilege of hearing her. She is going to hold Normal Kindergarten Conventions through the States, next fall; look out for her name, and hear her if you can. Miss Matilda K. Ross of Chicago. PANSY. A LETTER FROM FATHER. "I WONDER if we will get a letter from father to-night." It was Essie Carter who spoke. Her mother sat by the window sewing, while Gracie played with her dolls upon the doorstep. Essie was just starting for the post-office. "I think," she continued, "that I will go across the pasture lot, it is more shady that way and it is very warm this afternoon." At mention of the pasture lot Gracie sprang up and said in her lisping tones, "Gracie go too!"