respondence, and I make a great many friends that I never could have made in any other way. They send me these things either as gifts or in exchange."

There was a box of cocoons of wild silk, spun by the oak-feeding worms of the north of China, of which pongee is made, the light brown color characteristic of this goods being observable in the cocoon. Beside it lay an oak-leaf from the park, to which clung a cocoon spun by one of our native silk-moths. There were jars of cocoons raised by a boy of eight years, and by girls of thirteen and fourteen. There was a silk fishing-line of a pretty ultramarine tint, twisted so tight and smooth that it seemed almost as stiff and elastic as fine steel wire.

"That was made by a Georgia lady from silk produced by eggs I sent her," explained our informant. "She makes silk fishing-lines, for sale, and supplies all the men and boys in her neighborhood.

"This satin book-marker," she continued, "with the bunch of violets painted on it, was sent to me by a girl in the neighborhood; and this little screen was painted for me by an Ohio girl who is nearly blind. I value it all the more for that; but a person with good eyesight need not have been ashamed of it. But just look at these Chinese gauze screens, covered with hand-painted flowers. If that work had been done in this country it would have cost an immense sum, but we can import them at a very low price. That little model of a reel worked by Chinese figures was sent to me from a fair, and these cotton pods, closed and open, with the snowy cotton bursting out, were sent from Louisiana.

"Here is something I value highly-two bits of ribbon, labeled, 'Economy, Pa., 1832.' So, you see, as long ago as that, German emigrants made silk in this country. It is very hard to get a piece of this rare silk."

So she went on showing one interesting thing after another. There were specimens of silk in almost every form-loose, reeled, spun, twisted, woven, embroidered, cases of gay sewing-silk, wreaths of flowers of silk thread stretched on wires, and hanks of silk that looked like lovely silver-gray hair. Over the cases hung a placard with the words, "See what a worm can do." And I thought to myself that it might have said just as truthfully, "See what a girl can do."

One of the most striking objects in the room was a tall stand on which were displayed long, flowing bunches of silk of all the natural tints, from cream color to a bright yellow, which looked like the treasured tresses, flaxen or sunny gold, of so many fair maidens.

But the most valued treasures of this silk-enthusiast are displayed on the walls. Conspicuous among them is a note of thanks from Miss Mollie Garfield, saying: "Both my mamma and I are much interested in the cocoons and other specimens you sent us. We think you must be a very enterprising girl."

There, too, hangs her diploma, awarded by the State Agricultural Fair.

"I value that more than any money prize," she said, “for I can keep it always to show. I suppose it was given to me because I was so young more than for any other reason, for I had just begun silk-raising then and had n't much to show -just some eggs and cocoons in a little frame. Here is the very jar of silk I sent, labeled, Silk raised and reeled on her fingers by a little girl thirteen and a half years old.' I think I would go through fire and water to save that diploma. I have a fine reel now that was made in Philadelphia and given to me. There it stands in the corner. I had the water-pan made by a tinman and fitted on this old sewing-machine stand. When I use it, I set a lamp under the pan to heat the water. But I don't reel very much, only in the winter, because I keep most of my cocoons for eggs."

"Where do you feed your worms in the rearing season?" we asked.

"Right here in this room," she replied. "But as they grow we have to spread them out over three rooms, though our frames are five stories high-that is, there are five tiers of trays. I raise so many worms now that my father and two brothers have to help me carry home leaves for them every morning, and sometimes the boys have to go again in the evening. But it is only for a few days that the worms eat so much."

"It seems strange that there are not a great many other girls interested in silk as you are,” we remarked.

"Yes, it does," said she. "I suppose there are some in different parts of the country. But in the city it is not easy to get mulberry leaves; and city girls who have to earn their living seem to prefer working in factories or stores to taking the trouble to help themselves by silk-raising. Now, I like it so much I would n't change it for any other employment. There is so much variety in it—so much that is interesting to learn about it; though it does n't take very much knowledge to raise silk. I've put all the necessary information in my instruction book. Have n't you seen it? It is in the third edition now."

Last year, a lame girl I know, who lives with her mother in a country village where there are a few mulberry-trees growing near the house, thought she would try raising silk. So she bought a dol

lar's worth of eggs and a little instruction book, and began with her trays spread on the sitting-room table. At first, it was nothing but fun to watch the queer little brown things feeding. But they soon grew so large and ate so much that she was obliged to spread them out more and more, till they occupied two or three rooms instead of one table, and it kept the little lame girl and her mother both busy gathering leaves to satisfy their appetites.

But, by the end of six weeks, they had all done feeding and spun their little silken covers and gone to sleep. The lame girl had a fine lot of cocoons,

which she sold for twenty-seven dollars, and felt that she was well paid for her trouble. Besides, she got honorable mention at the grand silk fair at St. George's Hall, which was something to be proud of. So she bought four dollars' worth of eggs for the next season, hoping to make four times as much money.

I wish more girls would try silk-raising. I think you would enjoy it, girls. If it is not practicable for you to belong to a silk association, you can raise silk just as well by yourselves. But I should like to hear of a Girls' Silk-Culture Club ready to begin work next season.

MOST of the many boys and girls who already own or who intend to own silk-worms will be glad to know of a way by which the silk-spinning powers of the little creature may be turned to account so as to produce immediate results.

The formation of the cocoon, the reeling of the raw silk, and the final weaving into the finished sheet of silk are not only processes requiring considerable time and skill, but are, all of them, usually carried on without the assistance of the young silk-raiser. Or even if he reel off the silk from the cocoon himself, he will be little likely to attempt weaving it into cloth.

There is a way of contriving, however, so that the silk-worm will itself save you the time of its own house-building and spare you the trouble of reeling and weaving. It can, in fact, be made to produce for you, under your own supervision, a piece of beautiful, golden silk. Nor is this all: it will even shape the silk and fasten it to a fan, a tambourine, or to any other similar frame; provided, of course, that the silk-yielding capacity of the worm be not overtaxed.

The method of accomplishing this result is a very simple one, though, like many other simple things, it is not commonly known. Very many Chinese ladies, however, know it, and make use of it to divert the weary hours they usually spend in idleness.

When the worm is full-grown, and has filled its reservoir with the silk-making material, it is ready to build its house or cocoon. This you must not

Nature tells the worm that it must spin-spin a cocoon if possible, but spin anyhow. If permitted to have its own way, it will build on the flat surface of the fan; but if prevented, it will wander from side to side of the little platform, spinning all the while its wonderful silken thread, fastening it at the edges, and in the end covering the whole surface with a closely woven golden web almost as tough as parchment.

In relating this fact, however, we must, at the same time, impress upon the young silk-culturist that, if he tries this experiment, it had better be with only two or three worms, and that it would be wrong and cruel to divert many of the little creatures from their proper work of cocoon-making, for the sake of the ornamental fan-covers they might be made to supply. Though the result is, of course, interesting, it is decidedly not for this purpose that you are supposed to keep silk-worms.

THE next annual convention of the National Amateur Press Association is to be held in New York City, in July. These gatherings of enthusiastic journalists attract more and more attention, and serve to make known in widening circles the character and purposes of the N. A. P. A. Some notion of what the coming meeting will be may be gained perhaps by a glance at the members composing last year's convention as they were assembled in the New Era Hall, of Detroit, Michigan, on July 14th, 1882. Our cut is engraved from a photograph taken at that time. Although the photograph is unfortunately indistinct, it is evident that it represents a group of thoughtful boys and young men, who believe in their "cause," and who are ready to work for it.

The convention gave promise of much good for the Association, and, looking back over the history of the year, we can see that the promise has been fulfilled. The ranks of the society have been extended; many new papers have been started; the wings of the older ones have grown stronger for flight, and the general character of the papers has been raised. We note with pleasure a more manly ring in editorials, a fairer tone in critical reviews, a growing freedom from personalities, as well as higher order of literary work and better mechanical execution.

Reports of the Detroit meeting from several widely separated sources show that it was, on the whole, one of the most harmonious and satisfactory ever held. We have read, with considerable interest, detailed accounts of the political campaigns which preceded the convention, and have traced through bulky files of amateur journals the inception and development of the several parties there represented -all of which study has strengthened the belief expressed in a former article, that amateur elections are conducted with fairness and good nature, and that candidates are nominated mainly from confidence in their ability, and elected by honorable and manly methods of voting. The history of a campaign is something like this: Soon after an annual election (if not long before!) some bright, and distant-future-scanning editor, with a taste for wielding pen-power, runs carefully over his exchanges, and makes a mental estimate of his contemporaries. (And very much can be learned of an amateur editor from a single number of his paper. Is its general appearance attractive? Is its face clean? Are its hands washed? Are its eyes wide open?

Can it hit heavy and honest blows? Is it truthful, modest, pure, sensible, bright?)

Having decided from such mental view of many papers that Pungent Pepperpot, the editor of the Capsicum, is likely to prove a popular and capable president, he proceeds to throw among his next week's editorials some such tentative remark as “Did any gentleman mention Pepperpot for our next president?" or to suggest that "Among those who were most active in the late campaign, none displayed more unselfish enthusiasm, or showed more marked ability, than the editor of the sprightly and well-written Capsicum."

Without waiting to see whether this little seed will sprout or not, our young politician next sits down and writes to a score of brother editors in different sections, and asks in varied phrase of each whether he has yet made up his mind regarding the proper man to fill the presidental chair at the expiration of the current year. He gently intimates that, if no other name has been proposed, it would be an excellent plan to unfurl the flag of Pepperpot. These letters dispatched, another must be written to no less distinguished a personage than Pungent Pepperpot himself, offering to "work" for him from date. As soon as three or four favorable responses are returned, a committee is organized, consisting of members judiciously sprinkled over the several points of the mariner's compass.

The work of the committee is then fully mapped out, and a "net-work of correspondence" is carried on in all directions.

A good plan is to have all members of the committee concentrate a fusilade of political epistles upon a doubtful amateur, so that upon the same day he may receive, by a strange coincidence, letters from Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Massachusetts, all pointing out the critical point in its history upon which Amateurdom is now quivering, and demonstrating that the only person who can possibly place it in a position of permanent perpendicularity is Pungent Pepperpot.

Few can withstand this. Letters begin to flow toward the committee, to the following effect:

tion if it allows the fiery and impetuous Pepperpot to gain the highest office in the gift of the N. A. P. A., and by substantially similar methods he rapidly organizes a boom for Zachary Zero, who edits the monthly Icicle. Now the fun begins. As kernels of corn over a hot fire, so paper after paper pops out in favor of one or the other of the rival nominees. Histories of each appear, introduced with eye-compelling head-lines, and illustrated with portraits or caricatures of the candidates. The Pepperpotists ridicule the chill indifference of the Zeroites, who in turn criticise the dangerous heat and fierce passions of their opponents. "Shall Amateurdom bare its back tamely to receive an application of capsicum?" "Better that, a thousand-fold, than to face the fearful fate of freezing in an untimely grave," is the undaunted reply.

As the time for the convention approaches, the interest deepens. Other candidates appear, letters of acceptance and of declination see the light, noses are counted, and estimates of attendance are made. The records of the rivals are searched for evidences of literary skill, editorial power, political penetration, honorable "stands," and general popularity on the one side; and, on the other, for proofs of incapacity or plagiarism, of weakness or narrowness of mind, indirect methods, and general impracticability. Finally, on the eve of the election, caucuses are held, speeches made, members buttonholed, pledges circulated, promises given, and after the crisis is over and the photographs paid for, the next month is devoted to explaining how, if Pepper

pot had not resigned on the very edge of victory, and if Zero had only rallied his men with more of his rival's ardent but flagging zeal, it never could have happened that the hitherto unknown editor of the Wayback Waif should have been quietly accepted as a compromise candidate, and triumphantly elected almost by acclamation.

In concluding this sketch, we wish distinctly to state that it is not designed to represent under the fiery and frosty appellations of Pepperpot and Zero any of the gentlemen who were actually in the field during the campaign of 1882, which reached its climax at Detroit; nor to indicate by the name of Wayback Waif the paper of him who was really chosen president. In fact, last year it was not a "dark horse" that won, but a gentleman who, during most of the campaign, was generally felt to be the proper one for the place.

It was our plan to enter somewhat in detail into an account of last year's convention; but as the minor incidents of friendly greetings, eager caucuses, and ballot-counting are of interest mainly to the actors in chief, and as such a course, moreover, would cause us to thread our way through an intricate maze of dangerous personalities, we must content ourselves with congratulating the Association on its manly and dignified representation at Detroit. Those of my readers who are desirous of a closer acquaintance with the workings of the N. A. P. A., or who wish to enroll themselves among its members and attend the July convention in New York City, should address Mr. F. A. Grant, South Gardner, Mass.