244 ‘“ Achusetts’s Ride to Philadelphia.”

seemed very much like an afternoon tea. One
letter was crying bitterly.

‘What is the matter with her?” asked little
Achusetts, of a very dirty letter, who was sitting
near.

‘Going to the dead-letter office ; they forgot
to put on the stamp,” was the answer.

“Oh,” said Achusetts pityingly, for among
letters it is considered a terrible disgrace to be
sent to the dead-letter office.

Just then, someone said: “It is time for the
postman to come.”

“Oh,” said Achusetts frightened, “then I
must hurry back to my own letter.”

But do you know, although he searched every-
where, the poor little fellow could not find his
letter. The box was very dark, and filled almost
to the top. The postman now appeared, and took
out all the letters, leaving poor Achusetts behind,
in spite of his piteous cries to be allowed to
go with the others. The box was then locked,
and he was alone. His sobs and cries echoed
through the lonely iron house. Suddenly,