the strangest. They are called "the little camels of Peru," and it is a very good name, too, as a llama looks a great deal like a camel, except that it has no hump on its back. They have long necks, and their feet are padded, I think, because when walking on cobblestones they make scarcely any noise. When they are irritated they spit at the offender.

Arequipa is situated on the little river Chili, which flows through a barren and almost rainless country. Smaller streams, called acequias, are conducted along terraces which are built on either side of the river to

irrigate the valley. From these still smaller ones branch; and on certain days the water is allowed to flow through certain fields, to keep the vegetation from drying up through lack of rain.

A little over one hundred years ago there were some severe earthquakes, and more smoke than usual rose from El Misti. The people of Arequipa were frightened, so some priests undertook to keep El Misti from eruption. They took a large iron cross, which, it is said, was taken from a convent that was destroyed by an earthquake, and finally succeeded in getting it to the top of the mountain. There they set it up, believing that the cross would quiet El Misti, and keep it from eruption. The cross is there yet, close by the station, though somewhat bent by the wind.

Your admiring ten-year-old reader,
ELEANOR S. UPTON.

ST. PAUL, MINN. DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl nine years old. I have a fine toboggan hill right by the side of our house, and it is all ice, and very fine. Í have just been reading some stories in a Minneapolis paper about gophers. All natives of Minnesota are nicknamed "gophers.

I have two pet cats. One's name is "Brighteye," and the other's is "Punch," and I dress them up in doll's clothes. I go to the Murry School, and I am in the B third grade. I like the story about "Master Skylark," and liked the two stories about Lincoln and Tad and Willie Lincoln.

We had an amaryllis last year, and we measured it from Lincoln's birthday until a week after, and it grew an inch a day.

I am writing this on my papa's typewriter. I think it is lots of fun to write on a typewriter; and I suppose you do not get many little girls' letters written on typewriters. Do you?

Your little friend,

DOROTHY L. HARWOOD.

GIBSON, SUSQUEHANNA, PA. DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken your magazine for a long time. Yes, and I should miss it very much if I did not get it.

I live in Ouray, Colorado, but I visited my grandpa and grandma last winter. I go to school. I am eleven years old.

Colorado is a mining country. My papa is a mine inspector, and sometimes he takes me down in the mine with him. We go down in a cage. Once when I was in the mine they were blasting, and the explosion blew out our candles, and it was so very dark. The noise was so great that we had to put our fingers in our ears. They have cars down there, and they fill them with ore and put them on the cage, and hoist them up to the top of the shaft, and the ore is taken to the mill.

We often have snow-slides. Not long ago some men were killed in a snow-slide.

We have burros in Colorado. I was riding one once, and it tried to buck me off, but did not succeed.

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for pleasant letters received from them: Lillian Oliver Shiff, Gladys Atkins, Mildred Smith Merrill, Eva Bessie Bailey, Lilian Elizabeth L., Fanny M. J., Lila Hedges, Glenn Southwell, L. and M., Carmelita H. S., Elsie Gemmill, Nelson Sutro Greensfelder, Alice L. Radcliff, George W. H. Allen, Lillie Bernard, Laura O. Snyder, Stella Newberg, Willie Damon, Marion Tufts, E. Read Vail, Lucie Elinor Fox, Bennett Styles, H. F., F. Constance Folsom, D. R. G., Dorothy M. Smith, Kenneth Van Wagenen, Joseph B. Townsend, Edith, Anna L. Clarkson, Norton H. Kirkpatrick, Frank A. Moses, Jr., Ralph W. E. Smalley, Robert W. Wilson, Priscilla Mills, E. Heller, Edith Barry, Eloise M. Tyler, Henry Kent Hewitt, Helen Sloan, Pierre W. Wildey, Farrell S. Durment, Bertha M. Telfer, Ethel W., Alexander R. Skinker.

I. A LETTER from Poland. mimic. 3. A musical drama. 4. Ir. regular or uneven. 5. Out of the way. 6. A public command by high authority. 7. Striking effect. 8. A small drum. 9. A memento. 10. To advert. II. A post at the end of a staircase. 12. A color. 13. A letter from Poland.

"MEDINA."

I. UPPER LEFT-HAND SQUARE: I. An aperture. 2. Above. 3. Allows.

4. First.
II. UPPER RIGHT-HAND SQUARE:
I. Certain animals. 2. An herb. 3.
To take to pieces. 4. To pause.

III. CENTRAL SQUARE: I. A common word. 2. A shout. 3. A jot. 4. To remain.

IV. LOWER LEFT-HAND SQUARE: 1. Bulk. 2. To aid. 3. Withered. 4. A branch.

V. LOWER RIGHT-HAND SQUARE: 1. A college. 2. Beverages. 3. To jump. 4. To see.

ANNIE WILLETTS.

PROGRESSIVE NUMERICAL

ENIGMA.

I COMES once in a thousand years;

2 leads ever in acts and arrears; 1-2 is akin to rich and poor; 1-2-3 you find at your door; 1-2-3-4 is something we mow; 2-3 is close by, wherever you go; 3-4-5 is of strict definition; 3-4-5-6 prevents repetition;

4 and 5 for another must stand;

To 4-5-6 take your needle in hand;

5 and 6 is a measure of space;

6 and 7 has a mother's face; 6-7-8 is to tangle and mix; 7-8 by your side forever you fix; 8-9-10 is productive of pain; 8-9-10-11 to tactics pertain;

My whole is a science, exact and precise;

To use it needs skill in sign and device;

Though some of its parts are acknowledged not pure,

Still, praise for its truth will always

endure.

M. E. SAFFOLD.

THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.