Yee-Lee, the Chinaman, Goes walking down the street, With paper sun-shade, and a dress That reaches to his feet. Oh what a funny sight is he, That yellow Chinaman, Yee-Lee!
His eyes are slanting little slits, So that he can't see straight; His head is polished till it shines Just like a china plate; And pussy thinks he's very kind To let his pigtail drag behind.
The wind asked the children To dance on the green; But the fiddler and fifer Were not to be seen.
So the wind whistled for them A gay, merry tune, But so fast that the children Grew tired very soon.
"Oh, we must stop dancing!" Cried each little child; "The tune that you whistle Is so very wild!"
That made the wind angry; It rose very high; And their hats and their sun-shades Were blown to the sky.
A merry group, With spades in hand, Building wee houses Of yellow sand.
They dig and delve The livelong day; But even children tired with play.
On pillows soft Their heads they lay, While the wee houses Are washed away.
What is the matter with Princess Maude, All alone in her tower? She sits forlorn in her little chair, And cries to herself by the hour.
We'll carry some flowers to Princess Maude, And a basket of apples and pears; We'll call her to open the window wide, For we can't go up the stairs.
Throw open your window, Princess Maude, It is only Charlie and me; The cat and the dog are fast asleep, And there's nobody here to see.
Dear Mary Angelina Jane, You will be sorry to be told My doll was left out in the rain, So that she caught a dreadful cold. She's better now, the doctors say, Though I'm afraid of a relapse. And now no more from me to-day-- I'll write some other day, perhaps.
I am a little colored girl just seven years old. This is my first letter. I live near our white folks, who have taught us to read and write, and who let us read their copy of YOUNG PEOPLE. We read the letters in the Post-office Box, and I thought I would ask the little people to send me some of their old books, or anything to help a little girl learn. I am too poor to buy any books, and the ladies can not get them for me.
Please put this letter in the Post-office Box.
HANNAH MCDANIEL, Lincolnton, Lincoln Co., N. C.
We hope little Hannah will write to us again, and tell us of the favors which we are confident she will receive from many of our young readers, of whose kind and generous hearts we have on different occasions had gratifying proof. We are sure they will not allow the appeal of this poor little colored girl to pass unnoticed.