Dear Children:--

I have read these letters to you just as Josiah wrote them. He is now
about 12 years old, "working with two hammers, one with his foot, the
other with his hand, striking off nails as fast as he can." But I should
like to compare his writing with the writing of any little boys and
girls of his age, that meet in our school-room. He has no nice desk to
write on; his pens and ink are such as he can get. There were no pen and
ink in his father's house three years ago; for no one could make letters
there when you sent Josiah to school. You see his care for his little
sisters. It did not take all the two gold sovereigns we sent him first
to pay for his suit of clothes; it would have done, if he had determined
to buy himself a nicer suit. But he remembered his sisters lovingly, and
gave part of his money to buy each of them a shawl; and pretty nice
shawls they were, we have not the slightest doubt, and took a
considerable part of the money you sent him. He knew you were kind to
him, but he did not think you would remember his sisters too, and send
them something to make them warm and comfortable through the winter.
They have received before this time the two sovereigns, or ten dollars,
which you contributed for their New Year's present. How I wish that all
of you who sent in your half dimes for them, could look in upon that
nailer's family circle when they open the letter and see two bright gold
sovereigns for the little ones. The baby will crow a little at that, and
the mother, who dropped her head and wiped her eyes, as Josiah read to
her out of the Citizen about that little girl in Newton, who went
without milk so long that he might have a suit of clothes for Christmas,
will drop her head again, but she will cry for joy, and there will be
hopping up and down for the space of fifteen minutes, I reckon, and
Josiah's black eyes will twinkle with the gladness in his heart; and the