I am a little boy thirteen years old, and I live on my father's
farm, one-half mile from Durbin, in the celebrated Red River
Valley, about six miles from the world-renowned Dalrymple Farms.
Our house stands on the high beautiful banks of the Maple River.
Two months ago my sister and two brothers and myself were taken
sick with diphtheria. I haven't been able to walk since. My little
brother Allie died. I want to tell you what the sweet little boy
said when he was sick--he did not like to take his medicine; and
mamma said to him, "Allie, take it to please mamma," and then he
took it; and a little while after mamma heard him say, in his
sleep, "I will take it to please mamma." The last time he took his
wine he said to papa, "Papa, I will never take it again." He was
five years old, and could read and spell, and count up to one
hundred without missing, and we never tried to teach him; he
learned it all himself from hearing us. I have taken YOUNG PEOPLE
from the first number. I could not live without it.
Please print this, as I am unable to walk, and have little to amuse
me.