St. Nicholas/Volume 32/Number 5/Letter-Box
The Letter-Box
Here is an interesting letter from a California girl-reader of St. Nicholas, and it is accompanied by a unique and charming photograph:
Dear St. Nicholas: I am sending a photo of myself in Nome, Alaska, in which I am fishing for tomcod through a hole in the ice out on Bering Sea. The hole in the ice is about one foot wide. I am sitting on a piece of ice and fishing.
Anita fishing through the ice on Bearing Sea.
The fishing-rod and line are made by the Eskimos, and are very different from ours, The rod is about a foot and a half long, and the line is often very long and is wrapped around the rod, and you can unwrap it if your line is not long enough. The rod is made of wood, and the line is often made of sinew. At the end of the line there are from three to five hooks; so it often happens that you catch more than one fish. You do not have any bait, but just jerk the line up and down and once in a while you get a fish. For a sinker you use an ivory fish which ts usually old, If the fish are running well you could catch a sackful in an hour. Tomcod are usually sold for a dollar a sack.
My dear St. Nicholas: We have changed our place of residence, and are now living just outside London. Just before we moved in, we stayed for about two months in Tréport, a small town in the north of France. While we were there we had a curious experience—namely, a riot. As perhaps some of your readers have not been in one, I will try to tell you a little about it.
One day 1200 glass-blowers from various towns round about attempted to enter Tréport; happily for us, however, only 70 succeeded, and joined with about the same number from the glass-works in the town. The first few days they did nothing but parade the streets, singing uncomplimentary songs about the “gendarmes.”
But one Sunday they assembled in force, and were so uproarious that the police had to hold the road.
The first we heard of it was the singing of the Carmagnole, and rushing to the balconies, we were just in time to be able to see (for we were not near enough to hear) the riot act read by the mayor, but as they would not disperse, the order was given to charge! Oh, what a panic ensued! The horses and men charging in all directions, the flashing of the sun on the unsheathed swords, all partly obscured by the clouds of dust raised by the flying feet of the horses, made a picture which none of us will be likely to forget.
Nothing was done after that by the rioters, although they threatened to return and avenge the comrades who had been hurt in the scuffle.
Dear St. Nicholas: I have just been to the World’s Fair, and I saw the Liberty Bell—it was in the Pennsylvania State Building. The building was beautiful, and the bell had flags around it.
In the Liberal Arts Building I saw The Century Co.'s exhibit, and copies of the St. Nicholas. My mother took the St. Nicholas when she was a little girl.
I have two cats. Their names are Dr. Watson and Sherlock Holmes.
Yours truly,
Marjorie B. Summpter (age 11).
The answers to the charades on page 441 are “Boa” and “Doughnut”