I am a boy of nine. I am spending the winter at my grandfather's
plantation in South Carolina, but my home is in the Pennsylvania
mountains. The Santee River is near here, and a deep swamp with
bears in it. There are many young lambs here, and one day the
buzzards caught two little weak ones. Another boy and I drove them
off from getting another. The birds are very gay, and the
woodpeckers tap on the house like mad. Love to the Editor.