_Arthur_ from Pennsylvania. I like your verses very much. As soon as I have time, I shall copy them for the magazine. I am afraid "Reaching Out" must close with October, as I have another story waiting, which I think you boys, particularly, will like quite as well as "Reaching Out." _Ellen_ from Kansas. It is quite a common thing for people to see the faults of others, and be blind to their own. Queer, isn't it? Do you remember the old Scotch poem: O wad some power the giftie gie us, To see ourselves as ithers see us! It wad from mony a blunder free us, And foolish notion. There is a wise old man who says that people are pretty sure to see in others the very failings which they themselves possess. What do you think of it? I am much interested in your "literary cat." What branch of study does she appear to be taking up? _Arthur_ from Tennessee. You had a chance to exercise patience in waiting for your badge, did you not? I do not know why some of the badges seem to think they must be so long on the road, unless it is to help their owners to a little of that quality. Don't you think it is generally a scarce article with boys? _Birdie_ from Kentucky. O yes, Birdie, we have a great many Blossoms in Kentucky, only we have not answered their letters yet. There are many hundreds still waiting. My dear little girl, do you think one has to "try" very hard to love such a Friend as Jesus? I suspect you mean that you have not learned to love Him enough to obey Him perfectly. That is a hard lesson; it gives me joy to think you are trying to learn it. _Gertrude_ from Missouri. "Things" seem to be determined to lie around in the way. All over the country I notice that the P. S. Blossoms have the same trouble. They will certainly have to be willing to hang on hooks, and nails, or lie quietly on clothespress shelves; for the P. S. has gotten hold of them with determined wills. We are glad of a recruit from Missouri. _Sallie_ from Massachusetts. I like to hear of an interested reader of my books, but, Sallie dear, do not let them lead you astray. I once went to call on a woman who needed help. It was nearly twelve o'clock, but her breakfast table still stood in the middle of the floor, black with flies; the little mass of oil in which some of them were drowning, had once been butter; her baby was playing with the coal hod, and his face and clothes were the color of it; and everything about the room was in disorder. The mother sat in the one rocking-chair, wiping her eyes over a story which she was reading. "I ought to a done up my work," she said, "but land, I do love to read. I always was literary!" You will never be such a woman as that! I hear you say. No, I do not think you will. Especially since you have taken your pledge.