There are apple-trees in our yard, and every spring a great many robins and other birds come and build in them. Louis and I often feed them. One day we put some bread in some empty cigar-boxes and set them on the ground for the birds; but they did not eat out of the boxes, so we emptied the bread off the ground, and very soon we saw a number of birds eating it. I think they did not like the smell of tobacco which was about the boxes. Last year two robins had a nest of young ones in one of the trees. The old cat killed the mother, and the father fed and took care of the little robins until they were grown. The cat killed so many birds last year that we had to keep her shut up in the chicken-coop a great deal of the time.
I must tell you that we have a dear little blue-eyed brother nearly three years old, named Willis, whom we all think lovelier and sweeter than any other pet.
Mamma wishes me to tell you of a few funny things that Louis has said. One day, when he was about five years old, mamma was teaching him his Sunday-school lesson, and she asked the question, "How did Adam and Eve feel when the angel drove them out of the garden?" He answered, "Dus spendid." He had been told a story of a little boy who was lost. After the parents and friends had searched the woods and town in vain, he was found in the hay-loft fast asleep. Louis said, "When a little boy is lost, you must always look in the hay-loft, for that is a _specially_ place for boys." One very warm and dusty day, while at play, Louis in some way got the top of his head quite covered with dirt and ashes. When mamma saw it, she said, "Why, Louis, I believe I could plant potatoes on the top of your head." He said, "But you mustn't; for if you should, when I go up town everybody would say, 'Hello, garden!'"
I have not learned to write with a pen, and I suppose you will think my letter is not written very nicely. If it will do to put in the Post-office Box, it will surprise and please my papa very much to see it there.
If the four new kittens should resemble their mother, I'm afraid the robins will have to fly away from your apple-trees, Harry. Thank your mamma for remembering those nice stories about Louis. Next time she must tell us some of your droll little speeches.