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<pre>
Project Gutenberg's The Nursery, March 1877, Vol. XXI. No. 3, by Various
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Nursery, March 1877, Vol. XXI. No. 3
A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers
Author: Various
Release Date: February 20, 2009 [EBook #28131]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, MARCH 1877 ***
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<h3>THE</h3>
<h1>NURSERY</h1>
<h2><i>A Monthly Magazine</i></h2>
<h2><span class="smcap">For Youngest Readers.</span></h2>
<div class='center'>VOLUME XXI.—No. 3.<br />
<br /><br />
BOSTON:<br />
JOHN L. SHOREY, No. 36 BROMFIELD STREET,<br />
1877.<br />
</div>
<div class='copyright'><br /><br /><br />
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by<br />
JOHN L. SHOREY,<br />
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.<br />
<br /><br /><br />
FRANKLIN PRESS:<br />
RAND, AVERY, AND COMPANY,<br />
117 FRANKLIN STREET,<br />
BOSTON.<br /></div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
<img src="images/contents.png" width="400" height="210" alt="Contents" title="" />
</div>
<h3>IN PROSE.</h3>
<div class='center'>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Prose contents">
<tr><td align='left'>An Old-Time Scene</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Nelly's First Lesson in Dancing </td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Old Jim</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Second Lesson in Astronomy</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>How a Rat was once Caught</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>To Sea in a Tub</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Drawing-Lesson</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>A Woodchuck Hunt</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>The Schoolmistress</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Peter and Polly</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Tommy and the Blacksmith</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>In the Country</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Dodger</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>The Mother-Hen</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr>
</table></div>
<h3><br />IN VERSE.</h3>
<div class='center'>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Verse contents">
<tr><td align='left'>Tom-Tit</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>A Lenten-Song</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>A Mew from Pussy</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Down on the Sandy Beach</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Song of the Cat (<i>with music</i>)</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr>
</table></div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;">
<img src="images/contents_end.png" width="200" height="139" alt="Decoration" title="" />
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
<img src="images/illus065.png" width="500" height="350" alt="VOL. XXI. No. 3." title="" />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
<h2>AN OLD-TIME SCENE.</h2>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 121px;">
<img src="images/illus066.png" width="121" height="125" alt="L" title="" />
</div><div class='unindent'><br />OOK at the picture, and see if you can tell what
has roused all those children up so early in the
morning. There is Mary in her stocking-feet.
There is Ann in her night-dress. There is
Tom, bare armed and bare legged.</div>
<p>Why have they all left their beds, and run into the play-room
in such haste? And why is little Ned, the baby,
sitting up in the bed, as though he wanted to come too?</p>
<p>It is plain enough that the children use that room for a
play-room; for you can see playthings on the mantle-piece.
But why are they all flocking about the fireplace? And
why is mamma coming upstairs with a dust-brush in her
hand? And why is that cloth hung over the fireplace?
And whose are those bare feet peeping from under it?</p>
<p>"Oh!" perhaps you will say, "it is Santa Claus; and the
children are trying to catch him." Oh, no! Santa Claus
never allows himself to be caught in that way. You never
see even his feet. He never leaves his shoes on the floor,
nor dirty old brushes, nor shovels. It is not Santa Claus—it
is only a chimney-sweeper.</p>
<p>"But what is a chimney-sweeper?" I think I hear you
ask. Well, we do not have such chimney-sweepers now-a-days,
at least not in this part of the world. But ask
your grandfathers and grandmothers to tell you about the
chimney-sweepers that were to be seen in Boston forty or
fifty years ago, and I warrant that many of them will
remember just such a scene as you see in the picture.</p>
<p>In those days, before hard coal fires had come in use,
chimney-sweepers were often employed. They were small
boys, working under the orders of a master in the business,
who was very often a hard master. Generally they were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
negroes; but, whether so or not, they soon became so black
with soot, that you could not tell them from negroes.</p>
<div class="figright" style="width: 188px;">
<img src="images/illus067.png" width="188" height="300" alt="The Modern Chimney-Sweeper." title="" />
<span class="caption">The Modern Chimney-Sweeper.</span>
</div>
<p>The chimney-sweepers always came early in the morning,
before the fires were lighted; and their coming was a great
event to the children of a household. "When a child,"
says a famous English writer, speaking of the chimney-sweepers
of London, "what a mysterious pleasure it was to
witness their operation!—to see a chit no bigger than one's
self enter into that dark hole—to pursue him in imagination,
as he went sounding on through so many stifling
caverns—to shudder with the idea, that 'now surely he
must be lost forever!'—to revive at hearing his feeble shout
of discovered daylight,—and
then (oh, fulness of
delight!) running out of
doors, to come just in
time to see him emerge
in safety!"</p>
<p>There are chimney-sweepers
even now; but
none of the old-fashioned
kind. In many places it
is forbidden by law to
send boys up the chimneys.
So the modern
chimney-sweeper puts his
brush on the end of a
pole, which is made in
joints, like a fishing-rod,
and, by attaching joint
after joint, thrusts it farther
and farther up the
chimney.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
<img src="images/illus068.png" width="400" height="233" alt="Tom-Tit" title="" />
</div>
<h2>TOM-TIT.</h2>
<div class='poem'>
<span class="smcap">What</span> is it? What is it?<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Only a feather</span><br />
Blown by the wind<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In this cold stormy weather,</span><br />
Hunted and hurried so<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hither and thither?</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Leaf or a feather,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I know not if either.</span><br />
There, hark now, and see!<br />
'Tis alight on a tree,<br />
And sings, "Chick-a-dee-dee,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Chick-a-dee-dee!"</span><br />
I know it! you know it!<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tis little Tom-tit.</span><br />
<br />
Look at it! Look at it<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Flutter and hover!</span><br />
Only a tuft of down<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On it for cover!</span><br />
Only a bare bough<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To shelter it over!</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poor little rover,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Snow-fields for clover</span><br />
Are all that you see!<br />
Yet listen the glee<br />
Of its "chick-a-dee-dee,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Chick a-dee-dee!"</span><br />
Hark to it! look at it!<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Little Tom-tit!</span><br />
<br />
How is it? Why is it?<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like a snow-flurry,</span><br />
With swish of wings,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a swoop and a scurry,</span><br />
Comes a whole flock of them<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now in a hurry!</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Busy and merry</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The little things, very;</span><br />
Watch them, and see<br />
How blithe they can be<br />
With their "Chick-a-dee-dee,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Chick-a-dee-dee!"</span><br />
Each one such a bit<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of a little Tom-tit!</span><br />
</div>
<div class='sig'>
<span class="smcap">Mrs. Clara Doty Bates.</span><br />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 271px;">
<img src="images/illus069.png" width="271" height="300" alt="Nelly's First lesson" title="" />
</div>
<h2>NELLY'S FIRST LESSON IN DANCING.</h2>
<p><span class="smcap">Grandpa Mason</span> has not quite forgotten his dancing
days. So one day, when little Nelly said, "I wish I knew
how to dance like Emma Drake!" grandpa replied, "I'll
teach you, Nelly, if you will bring me my accordion."</p>
<p>So Nelly brought the accordion; and grandpa seated himself
in his old wooden arm-chair. First he taught her the
steps, and then said, "Now, Nelly, you must try to move<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
round just as you saw Emma do; and be sure and keep
time to the music."</p>
<p>Nelly made a courtesy, and began to dance; and, as
grandpa looked on, his heart seemed to dance with her;
for he felt young once more, and went back, in thought, to
the times when he was about as old as she.</p>
<p>That was a long while ago—more than seventy years.
He sighed as he thought of his little brothers and sisters, all
now gone to the better world. But Nelly's merry look soon
drove away his sad mood.</p>
<p>"Well done, Nelly!" said he. "You will make a
dancer; for you follow the music well, and step out lightly
and easily. Now let me see you rise a little on your left
foot, and whirl round once."</p>
<p>Nelly did it, and grandpa said, "Bravely done, little girl!
Here ends your first lesson in dancing. To-morrow we will
have another. Now get your new 'Nursery,' and let me
hear one of the stories; for we must take care of the head,
as well as the heels."</p>
<p>Nelly laughed; but, when she began to read, the tune
she had just heard came back to her, and she could hardly
keep from dancing up and down.</p>
<p>"One thing at a time, darling," said grandpa. "If we
would do one thing well, we must not let our thoughts
wander to something else. Tell me when you think you
can give your thoughts to reading. I can wait."</p>
<p>Nelly took a few more dancing-steps, whirled around
twice, made a courtesy, then came, and read so well, that
grandpa said, "You deserve a good mark for reading, my
dear. Now, whether you read, or whether you dance,
mind this:—</p>
<div class='poem'>
"What you do, if well you would do it,<br />
Rule your thoughts, and give them all to it."<br />
</div>
<div class='sig'>
<span class="smcap">Ida Fay.</span><br /></div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
<img src="images/illus071.png" width="500" height="375" alt="Old Jim" title="" />
</div>
<h2>OLD JIM.</h2>
<p><span class="smcap">Jim</span> is a fine large horse. He lives in the engine-house,
and draws the hose-carriage. His stall is so made that,
when the alarm-bell strikes, it opens in front of him, leaving
the way clear for him to rush out and take his place in
front of the hose-carriage.</p>
<p>One night, the hoseman (who sleeps upstairs in the engine-house,
so as to be all ready if there is an alarm of fire)
heard a great noise down below,—a stamping and jumping,
as if the horses were getting ready to go to a fire, when
there was no alarm at all. He went softly to the stairway,
and looked down; and there was Jim, jumping over the
shafts of the hose-carriage, first one way, then another,
just to amuse himself.</p>
<p>One day old Jim was in the yard behind the engine-house,
and a man went out to catch him, and lead him in.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
But he rushed and pranced around the yard, and would not
be caught. Then the man set out to drive him in; and
what do you think Jim did?</p>
<p>Instead of going in at the open door, he made a leap, and
went in at the open window, without breaking a glass, or
hurting himself in the least. No one who saw the window
would believe that such a great horse could possibly have
gone through it.</p>
<p>When Jim is fed, he sometimes puts his nose in the oats,
and throws them all out on the floor. Then he begins to
eat them up, and, after he has eaten all he can reach standing,
he goes down on his knees, and reaches out with his
long tongue, and picks up every oat he can find.</p>
<p>Outside of his stall, on one side, is a watering-trough,
where Jim is taken to drink. The water comes through a
pipe, and is turned on by a faucet. Two or three times the
water was found running, so that the trough overflowed,
when no one had been near to meddle with it.</p>
<p>At last the men suspected that Jim was the rogue, and
they kept very still, and watched one night till Jim thought
he was all alone. Then they saw him twist himself almost
double in his stall, stretch his long neck out, take the faucet
in his teeth, turn on the water, and get a good drink. But
he could not shut it off again.</p>
<p>Jim is a brave horse to go to a fire; but there is one
thing that frightens him dreadfully, and that is—a feather
duster! He is not afraid of any thing he sees in the streets,
and the greatest noise of the Fourth of July will not scare
him; but show him a feather duster, and his heels will fly
up, and he will act as if he were going out of his senses.</p>
<p>The firemen think Jim a most amusing horse; and they
sometimes say that he understands as much as some people
do, and can do most every thing but talk.</p>
<div class='sig'>
H. W.<br /></div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
<img src="images/illus073.png" width="500" height="205" alt="Second lesson in astronomy" title="" />
</div>
<h2>SECOND LESSON IN ASTRONOMY.</h2>
<div class='poem'>
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star:<br />
How I wonder what you are,<br />
Up above the world so high,<br />
Like a diamond in the sky!"<br />
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Did</span> any of you find the red star I asked you to look for
last month? I hope you did; for I want you to look at
it again while I tell you something about the "twinkle"
of it.</p>
<p>Look very carefully, first at the red star, and then at
just as large a white star; and, if your eyes are bright,
you will see that the white one twinkles the most. I wish
I could tell you why; but I think nobody knows.</p>
<p>Be very careful, though, not to choose a white star that
is not a star; for, as that twinkles very little, you may
think I am mistaken.</p>
<p>"A star that is <i>not</i> a star?" I think I hear you say,
"How I wonder what you are!" Well, I will tell you.</p>
<p>Although most of the "diamonds in the sky," commonly
called stars, are real stars, or suns like our sun, a few of
them are not suns, but solid globes or worlds like that which
we inhabit, warmed and lighted by our sun. When the sun
is shining on them, they look bright to us; but it is only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>
the light of our own sun thrown back, or reflected. They
give no light themselves.</p>
<p>Because they have our sun, we and they are like members
of one family. We call them "planets" (just as our
earth is called "a planet"), and are as familiar with their
names as if they were our brothers and sisters. One of
them, for instance, is called Venus; another, Jupiter; and
another, Saturn. Can you remember these hard names?</p>
<p>Now you would never notice the difference between these
few stars and all the others, if you did not look very carefully
to see whether they twinkle or not. And I would
advise you to ask somebody to point them out to you whenever
they are in sight.</p>
<p>I cannot tell you exactly where to look for them, because
they wander about a good deal, and I do not know where
they will be when you happen to read this number of "The
Nursery."</p>
<p>From all this you will see that you will have to be very
particular what kind of a star you look at when you say,—</p>
<div class='poem'>
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star."<br />
</div>
<div class='sig'>
<span class="smcap">M. E. R.</span><br />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
<h2>HOW A RAT WAS ONCE CAUGHT.</h2>
<p><span class="smcap">Do</span> you know what sly and cunning creatures rats are?
The picture shows how they sometimes contrive to carry off
eggs. The old fox in the background seems to be watching
the performance with great interest.</p>
<p>But, cute as they are, they sometimes get caught. I am
going to tell you how a rat was once caught by a clam.
It happened when I was a little child, and lived with my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>
mother. Whether such a thing ever happened before or
since, I do not know; but this is a true story.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
<img src="images/illus075.png" width="400" height="322" alt="Catching a rat" title="" />
</div>
<p>One day, my father went to town, and bought some clams.
When he came home, I took them down cellar in a basket,
and laid them on the brick floor of the cellar. Now, when
clams are put where it is dark and cool and quiet, they
open their shells. If you should go softly up, and put a
straw in one of their mouths, it would clasp its shells
together so tightly, that you could not get them open.</p>
<p>The cellar was under my mother's bed-room; and in the
night she heard a great noise, like something bumping and
slamming, down below. Being a brave woman, she lighted
a candle, and went down stairs; and what do you think she
found? I will tell you; for I am sure you would never
guess.</p>
<p>When the house came to be still with the night-stillness,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
and every one was in bed, an old rat had come out of his
hole, and gone foraging around for his supper. As he
walked majestically along, swinging his long tail after him,
it happened to switch into a clam's opened shell, when,
presto change! the clam was no longer only a clam: it was
a rat-trap.</p>
<p>It pinched hard; and I am sure it hurt the old rat very
much. He ran across the cellar to his hole; and the clam
bounced on the bricks as he went; and that was what my
mother had heard. The rat could not get the clam into the
hole. It held him fast by the tail all the rest of his life,
which was not long; for he was killed soon after.</p>
<div class='sig'>
<span class="smcap">Lizzie's Mamma.</span><br />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
<h2>TO SEA IN A TUB.</h2>
<p><span class="smcap">Here</span> is a picture of a boy trying his new boat in a tub
of water. His brothers and sisters are looking on. His
elder brother seems to be pointing out some fault in the rig
of the boat. Perhaps he thinks the sails are too large.
The dog Tray takes a good deal of interest in the matter.
I wonder what he thinks of it.</p>
<p>But the story I am going to tell you is about a little girl
named Emma, and what happened one day, when she went
out in the yard to play. Her mother had told her not to
go outside the gate: so she looked around the doorway
to see what she could find to play with. There stood a
great tub full of water; and there, close by, was a pile of
chips. "Boats!" said Emma to herself: "I'll sail boats!"</p>
<p>It didn't take a minute to get six of the nicest chips well
afloat; but after all they were not much better than rafts.</p>
<p>"I must put on sails," said Emma. And running into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>
the sitting-room, and getting some pins, and then putting
a bit of paper on each pin, and sticking a pin upright in
each chip, at last she had her little boats with little sails,
going straight across the tub with a fair wind.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 294px;">
<img src="images/illus077.png" width="294" height="400" alt="Sailing in a tub" title="" />
</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p>
<p>Once a fly alighted on one of the boats, and took quite a
long voyage. That made Emma think of trying to find
other passengers; and she picked up a great ground beetle,
and put him aboard. Poor beetle! he didn't want to go,
and he wasn't used to it. He tumbled about on the deck;
the boat tipped under him, and the next thing Emma knew
he was overboard.</p>
<p>"Oh, he mustn't drown!" she cried. "I must get him
out!" And she stooped over in great haste to save the
poor beetle. But it was a large tub, and a very deep one
too; and what did little Emma know about being careful?
She lost her balance, and down into the water she went,
with a great splash that wrecked all the boats in the same
instant. "Mother, mother!" screamed a choking, sputtering
voice, as Emma managed to lift her head.</p>
<p>Her mother heard it, and flew to the spot. It didn't take
long to get Emma into the warm kitchen, to pull off the
wet clothes, to wrap her in a blanket, and set her before
the fire in the big rocking-chair, with a bowl of hot ginger-tea
to drink. There Emma sat, and steamed, and begged
for stories. By eleven o'clock she couldn't stand it any
longer, and by noon she was out in the yard again, playing
tea-party, and not one whit the worse for her sudden cold
bath. But what became of the poor beetle?</p>
<div class='sig'>
<span class="smcap">Mary L. B. Branch.</span><br />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
<img src="images/illus078.png" width="300" height="203" alt="Beetle" title="" />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
<img src="images/illus079.png" width="300" height="277" alt="Frogs" title="" />
</div>
<h2>A LENTEN-SONG.</h2>
<h3>FROM THE GERMAN.</h3>
<div class='poem'>
<span class="smcap">Quog</span>, quog, quog, quog!<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A very unmusical note:</span><br />
This eminent basso, Mr. Frog,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has surely a cold in his throat.</span><br />
But he does his best, with a good intent,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The little speckled man;</span><br />
For every frog must sing in Lent,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As loud as ever he can.</span><br />
<br />
Quog, quog, quog, quog!<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the morning sky is red,</span><br />
He sits on the slippery, mossy log,<br />
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the rushes over his head.</span><br />
He does his best, with a good intent,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The little sprawling man;</span><br />
For every frog must sing in Lent,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As loud as ever he can.</span><br />
<br />
Quog, quog, quog, quog!<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the evening sky is pale,</span><br />
He nestles low in the sheltering bog,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While the gentle dews exhale.</span><br />
He does his best, with a good intent,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The little struggling man;</span><br />
For every frog must sing in Lent,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As loud as ever he can.</span><br />
<br />
Quog, quog, quog, quog!<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He strains till he shakes the reeds,</span><br />
And scares his neighbor, Miss Polly Wog<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As she hides in the water-reeds.</span><br />
He does his best, with a good intent,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The little panting man;</span><br />
For every frog must sing in Lent,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As loud as ever he can.</span><br />
<br />
Quog, quog, quog, quog!<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh! aren't you afraid you'll burst?</span><br />
You should have put on, dear Mr. Frog,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your girdle of leather first.</span><br />
But on he goes, with his good intent,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The little gasping man;</span><br />
For every frog must sing in Lent,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As loud as ever he can.</span><br />
</div>
<div class='sig'>
<span class="smcap">Olive A. Wadsworth.</span><br />
</div><div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 344px;">
<img src="images/illus081.png" width="344" height="500" alt="DRAWING-LESSON BY HARRISON WEIR." title="" />
<span class="caption">DRAWING-LESSON BY HARRISON WEIR.</span>
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p>
<h2>A WOODCHUCK HUNT.</h2>
<p><span class="smcap">One</span> September morning, before breakfast, Ned and Harry
went woodchuck hunting. They took Dick, who is a big,
fat, spotted coach-dog, and Gyp, a little black-and-tan, with
short ears, and afraid of a mouse,—both "such splendid
hunters," Harry said.</p>
<p>Gyp ran ahead on three legs; and Dick walked sedately
behind. Ned carried the bow, and Harry, the three arrows:
and it was enough to make any wise woodchuck tremble to
see them.</p>
<p>First they crossed a potato-field, and then a meadow
where there was a brook, and where they lost Gyp so often
among the bogs, that Harry carried him at last so as to
know where he was. Dick ran through the brook, and
shook himself over Ned's new sailor-suit; but that was no
matter.</p>
<p>Then they came to a rickety old stone wall, and Dick
barked. "It must be a woodchuck in the wall. We've
got him!" shouted Ned. "Down comes the wall!" Then
the stones fell; and Gyp jumped up and down with excitement,
while Dick gave a low and terrible growl. "He
must be here," said Ned.</p>
<p>But, as he was not to be found, Dick was reproved for
giving a false alarm; and they all jumped over the stones of
the old wall, and ran up the hill towards the walnut-grove,
where woodchucks were sure to be as thick as nuts.</p>
<p>"Here's a fresh hole!" shouted Harry. "Now it's almost
breakfast-time: he'll be out before long. Come on, Mr.
Chuck, we're waiting for you."</p>
<p>So the boys lay down flat on the mound of earth, and
peered into the hole, by way of inviting its owner to come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
out and be shot; while Dick and Gyp gave persuasive growls
and yelps.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
<img src="images/illus083.png" width="500" height="369" alt="Hunting" title="" />
</div>
<p>Strangely enough no woodchuck appeared; and after
waiting an "age,"—five minutes long,—the brave hunters
decided to dig in. "We ought to have brought spades,"
they said; but sticks and stones and hands did very well in
the soft, wet earth.</p>
<p>About the time that Harry got out of breath, and Ned had
dropped a stone on his foot, Dick barked furiously at something
moving under a hazel-bush. "Shoot, Ned, shoot!"
Harry shouted. "Whiz" went an arrow straight into the
bushes, where it lodged, and never more came out.</p>
<p>"A chase, a chase!" cried Ned, throwing down his bow;
and away they went,—Harry and Ned, Dick and Gyp,—over
stones and fences, bushes and bogs, in pursuit of something;
but whether it was a woodchuck or a cat they never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
got near enough to tell. Suddenly it disappeared in a
corn-field.</p>
<p>Dick and Gyp put their tails between their legs, and
dropped their ears; but Ned and Harry spied some pumpkins
ripening among the stacked corn.</p>
<p>"Gay for Jack-o-lanterns!" said Harry. "Wouldn't they
frighten Belle and Lucy, though!"</p>
<p>So two of the biggest pumpkins were cut off. "Now
let's take 'em home," said Harry, thinking of his breakfast.
But, oh, how heavy those pumpkins grew! In getting
over a wall, Harry's fell and was smashed: so the boys took
turns in carrying the other one.</p>
<p>Mamma stood on the piazza, in a fresh white morning-dress.
She heard Dick and Gyp, and then she saw her
little boys. Oh, what a sight!—the striped stockings and
blue sailor-suits all one shade of yellow brown earth!</p>
<p>"Did you have good sport?" asked papa, coming to the
door.</p>
<p>"Splendid! Found lots of <i>holes</i>," said Ned, dumping the
pumpkin. And what they did with the pumpkin, perhaps
I'll tell you another time.</p>
<div class='sig'>
<span class="smcap">Miss A. H. R.</span><br />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
<img src="images/illus084.png" width="300" height="290" alt="Woodchuck" title="" />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
<img src="images/illus085.png" width="500" height="376" alt="Schoolmistress" title="" />
</div>
<h2>THE SCHOOLMISTRESS.</h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">There</span> are many thousand words in our language," said
Ellen, reading from a book, "and some words are used for
one purpose, and some for another; and the same word may
be used in different ways. When your uncle gave you a
lot of shells last December, what did you do with them,
Edwin?"</p>
<p>"I classified them: that is, I put one kind into one heap,
and another kind into another heap; and so on."</p>
<p>"Well, that is just the way we do with words; we put
them in classes which we call Parts of Speech. Now, there
is one class of words which is made up of name-words or
nouns; that is, of words that are used as names of persons
or things. In the sentence, 'Birds fly,' <i>birds</i> is a noun, and
<i>fly</i> is a verb."</p>
<p>"I think I knew that much already, Schoolmistress."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p>
<p>"Well, sir, since you know so much, let me hear you correct
the mistakes in the following sentence: 'A pear or
peach, when they are ripe, are good food for the boy or girl
who like them.'"</p>
<p>"It should be: 'A pear or a peach, when it is ripe, is
good food for the boy or girl who likes it.'"</p>
<p>"Well done, Edwin! go up to the head of your class."</p>
<p>Edwin walked round his sister, as she sat in her chair,
and then gravely took his place again before her.</p>
<p>"Here are two sentences, Edwin: 'I fell down,' and 'I
fell down stairs.' <i>Down</i> is not the same Part of Speech in
the two sentences. What is it in the first?'"</p>
<p>"An Adverb; and in the second it is a Preposition."</p>
<p>"Well, sir, school is dismissed. You may go. I shall
give you a good mark in grammar."</p>
<div class='sig'>
<span class="smcap">Ida Fay.</span><br />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
<h2>A MEW FROM PUSSY.</h2>
<h3>IN ANSWER TO "A SQUEAK."<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></h3>
<div class='poem'>
<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><span class="smcap">I am</span> only the lazy old cat</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That sleeps upon somebody's mat:</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I sit in the sunshine,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And lick my soft paws,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With one eye on mousie,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And one on my claws.</span><br />
Little mouse, little mouse! look out how you boast!<br />
Of just such as you I have eaten a host!<br />
I'm a much smarter cat than you seem to suppose;<br />
I have very keen eyes, and, oh—such a nose!<br />
</div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 260px;">
<img src="images/illus087.png" width="260" height="300" alt="Innocent looking cat" title="" />
</div>
<div class='poem'>
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I'm an innocent looking cat;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I am well aware of that:</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I squint up my eyes,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And play with the flies,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But underneath I am wondrous wise:</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I know where your nest is,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And just where you hide</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When you have been thieving,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And fear you'll be spied.</span><br />
I saw your small tracks all over the meal;<br />
And I saw your tail, and I heard you squeal<br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When grandmamma's broom</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nearly sealed your doom,</span><br />
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">And you went whisking out of the room.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I am only a lazy old cat:</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I care not much for a <i>rat</i>;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But a nice tender <i>mouse</i></span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">About in the house</span><br />
Might prove a temptation too great,<br />
Should I be in a hungry state.<br />
Little mouse, little mouse! Beware, beware!<br />
Some time, when you think not, I shall be there,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And you'll not only look at,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But feel of, my paws;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And, the first thing you know,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I'll be licking my jaws,</span><br />
And washing my face with an innocent air,<br />
And mousie will be—oh, where? oh, where?<br />
</div>
<div class='sig'>
<span class="smcap">Ruth Kenyon.</span><br />
</div>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> See January number, page 18.</p></div>
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
<img src="images/illus088.png" width="300" height="251" alt="Sharing" title="" />
</div>
<p><i>Peter.</i>—Fresh baked peanuts! Give a fellow some, Polly.</p>
<p><i>Polly.</i>—Yes, Peter, you shall have a good share.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
<img src="images/illus089.png" width="500" height="422" alt="Tommy and the Blacksmith" title="" />
</div>
<h2>TOMMY AND THE BLACKSMITH.</h2>
<p><i>Tommy.</i>—Do you shoe horses here, Mr. Blacksmith?</p>
<p><i>Blacksmith.</i>—Yes, little man: that's my business.</p>
<p><i>Tommy.</i>—Well, I want my horse shod.</p>
<p><i>Blacksmith.</i>—How much can you pay for the job? It
will take a good deal of iron to shoe such a big horse as
that.</p>
<p><i>Ruth.</i>—He wants you to do it for nothing, Mr. Blacksmith.</p>
<p><i>Blacksmith.</i>—Every trade must live, my little lady. If
Tommy can afford to keep a horse, he ought to be able to
pay for having it shod.</p>
<p><i>Tommy.</i>—I will pay you next Christmas.</p>
<p><i>Blacksmith.</i>—-Never run in debt, my lad. If you can't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>
pay for a thing on the spot, do without it. Shun debt as
you would poison.</p>
<p><i>Ruth.</i>—That is just what my grandfather says.</p>
<p><i>Tommy.</i>—Well, when I get some money, I'll come again,
Mr. Blacksmith; for this horse must be shod, if there's iron
enough to do it with. Good-by!</p>
<p><i>Blacksmith.</i>—Good-by, Tommy! Good-by, Ruth!</p>
<div class='sig'>
<span class="smcap">Arthur Selwyn.</span><br />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
<h2>DOWN ON THE SANDY BEACH.</h2>
<div class='poem'>
<span class="smcap">Down</span> on the sandy beach,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the tide was low;</span><br />
Down on the sandy beach,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Many years ago,</span><br />
Two of us were walking,<br />
Two of us were talking<br />
Of what I cannot tell you,<br />
Though I'm sure you'd like to know.<br />
<br />
Down in the water<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A duck said, "Quack!"</span><br />
Up in the tree-top<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A crow answered back,</span><br />
Two of us amusing,<br />
Two of us confusing:<br />
So we had to give up talking,<br />
And just listen to their clack.<br />
<br />
"Quack!" said the little duck,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Swimming with the tide;</span><br />
"Caw!" said the saucy crow,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Swelling up with pride,</span><br />
"I'm a jolly rover,<br />
And I live in clover:<br />
Don't you wish that you were here,<br />
Sitting by my side?"<br />
<br />
"Quack, quack!" said the duck,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Very much like "No."</span><br />
"Caw, caw!—ha, ha!"<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Laughed the silly crow:</span><br />
Two of us delighting,<br />
Two of us inviting<br />
To join the merry frolic<br />
With a ringing ho, ho, ho!<br />
<br />
Crack!—and a bullet went<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Flying from a gun!</span><br />
Duck swimming down the stream,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We on a run,</span><br />
Wondered why or whether<br />
We couldn't be together<br />
Without another coming in<br />
And spoiling all the fun!<br />
</div>
<div class='sig'>
<span class="smcap">Josephine Pollard.</span><br />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 228px;">
<img src="images/illus091.png" width="228" height="300" alt="In the country" title="" />
</div>
<h2>IN THE COUNTRY.</h2>
<div class='story'>
<p><span class="smcap">Fanny</span> and Willy are having
a nice ride on the back of the
great cart-horse.</p>
<p>Mamma points at Willy with
her sun-shade, and says, "Hold
on tight, little boy." Pink, the
dog, says, "Bow-wow! Take
me up there with you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 231px;">
<img src="images/illus092.png" width="231" height="300" alt="Feeding chickens" title="" />
</div>
<p>Kate and Jane have the care
of the biddies. They feed them
with corn every day. The hens
flock around the door as soon
as the two girls come out.</p>
<p>Kate and Jane both say that
the hens are fond of them; but
I think they are still more fond
of the corn.</p>
</div>
<div class='sig'>
A. B. C.<br /></div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 361px;">
<img src="images/illus093.png" width="361" height="425" alt="Dodger" title="" />
</div>
<h2>DODGER.</h2>
<p><span class="smcap">Dodger</span> is a full-blooded Scotch terrier. His eyes are
the brightest of all bright eyes; and he acts just as one
might suppose from his name. He dodges here and there,—under
the sofa, and behind the stove, and up in a chair,
and sometimes puts his paws up on the baby's cradle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p>
<p>The other day, the baby's red sock dropped off from his
foot; and Dodger slyly picked it up, and, going to a corner
of the room, ate off the red tassels that were on it. I don't
think he will do it again; for he did not act as though they
tasted very good.</p>
<p>Dodger has many cunning ways. He will bring his
master's slippers, sit up straight, pretend to be dead, and do
many other funny things. Just now his master is trying to
teach him to shut a door.</p>
<p>Dodger belongs to a little boy in Hartford, Conn., who
has read "The Nursery" for five years. The little boy's
name is Georgie, and I am</p>
<div class='sig'>
<span class="smcap">Georgie's Mamma.</span><br />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
<h2>THE MOTHER-HEN.</h2>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;">
<img src="images/illus094.png" width="200" height="100" alt="Mother-hen" title="" />
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">By</span> the side of my home
a river runs; and down
close by the banks of it
lives a good family named
Allen. Mr. Allen keeps a
large number of hens and
ducks. One old hen had twice been put to sit on ducks'
eggs, and hatched two broods of ducks.</p>
<p>The first brood she hatched took to the water as soon as
they saw it, as all little ducks will. The old hen was almost
crazy at such behavior on the part of her chicks, and flew
down to the water's edge, clucking and calling at a great
rate. However,—to her great surprise, probably,—they
all came safely to land. Every day after that, when the
little ducks went for a swim, their hen-mother walked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
nervously back and forth on the shore, and was not easy
till they came out of the water.</p>
<p>By and by, after those ducks had all grown large, the hen
hatched another brood. These, too, at first sight of the
water, went in for a swim. The old hen was not quite as
frightened as before, but stood and looked at them, clucking
a little to herself, as if to say, "Strange chickens these
of mine; but yet, if they like it, I don't know as I need
care, so long as they don't ask me to go with them." So,
after a while, that brood grew to be big ducks.</p>
<p>One day last summer, as I sat on the bank of the river,
looking at the pretty blue rippling water, who should come
walking proudly down to the water's-edge but, Mrs. Hen
with another brood of little, waddling, yellow ducks behind
her! She led them clear to the edge of the water, saw them
start off, and, turning away, went contentedly to scratching
at some weeds on the shore, taking no more notice of her
little family. She had come to regard this swimming
business as a matter of course.</p>
<p>Now one little duck, for some reason,—maybe he was
not so strong as the others,—had not gone into the water
with the rest, but remained sitting on the shore. Presently
the mother-hen, turning round, happened to spy him. She
stopped scratching, and looked at him as if she were saying,
"All my chickens swim: now what is the matter with you?
I know it must be laziness; and I won't have that."</p>
<p>Then spreading out her wings, and making an angry
clucking, she flew towards the unlucky duckling, took him
by the back of his neck in her beak, and threw him as far as
possible into the water. As she walked back to her weeds
again; it seemed almost as if I could hear her say,—</p>
<p>"The chicken who can swim and <i>won't</i> swim must be
made to swim."</p>
<div class='sig'>
L. W. E.<br />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
<img src="images/illus096.png" width="300" height="200" alt="Song of the Cat" title="" />
</div>
<h2>SONG OF THE CAT.</h2>
<div class='center'>Words by <span class='smcap'>A. Lloyd.</span> Music by <span class='smcap'>T. Crampton</span></div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
<img src="images/illus096-music.png" width="500" height="567" alt="Music" title="" />
</div>
<div class="center"><small>[<i>Transcriber's Note: You can play this music (MIDI file) by clicking</i> <a href="music/mar77.mid">here</a>.]</small><br /><br /></div>
<div class='poem2'>
1. The cat and her kittens recline in the sun,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mew! mew! mew!</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">They're fond of their food and they're fond of their fun;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mew! mew! mew!</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Their old mother says they must sit in a row,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">The biggest is Jack and the little one Joe,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">And now altogether they make the place ring,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">With the one song they know and the chorus they sing:</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mew! mew! mew! . . .</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mew! mew! mew!</span><br />
<br />
2. My dear little kittens when you are well grown,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mew! mew! mew!</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Some day you will each have a home of your own;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mew! mew! mew!</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">You'll catch all the mice and you'll kill all the rats,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">And grow up, I hope, both respectable cats,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Don't get in the cupboard, nor kill the poor lark,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Keep away from big dogs and get home before dark;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mew! mew! mew! . . .</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mew! mew! mew!</span><br />
<br />
3. The kittens they listen'd and said they'd be good,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mew! mew! mew!</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">And not kill the birds nor destroy the young brood!</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mew! mew! mew!</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">They lov'd their good mother, and tho't 'twould be nice,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">To grow strong and hearty and catch and kill mice.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">She wash'd all their faces and put them to bed,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">And now what do you think was the last thing they said;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mew! mew! mew! . . .</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mew! mew! mew!</span><br />
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3>
<p>The January edition of the Nursery had a table of contents for the first six issues of the year. This table
was divided to cover each specific issue. A title page copied from the January
edition was also used for this number.</p>
<p>A comma was changed to a period on page 94. (tasted very good.)</p></div>
<pre>
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Nursery, March 1877, Vol. XXI. No.
3, by Various
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