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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/28133-h.zip b/28133-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cd75760 --- /dev/null +++ b/28133-h.zip diff --git a/28133-h/28133-h.htm b/28133-h/28133-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..df7eb23 --- /dev/null +++ b/28133-h/28133-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1603 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Nursery, May 1877, Vol. XXI., by Various. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + .copyright {text-align: center; font-size: 70%;} + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold; font-size: 70%;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .poem2 {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} + + .story {font-size: 200%; margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em;} + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Nursery, May 1877, Vol. XXI. No. 5, 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, May 1877, Vol. XXI. No. 5 + A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 20, 2009 [EBook #28133] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, MAY 1877 *** + + + + +Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. Music +by Linda Cantoni. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<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. 5.<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: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></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="Contents in Prose"> +<tr><td align='left'>The Young Lamplighter</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Fourth Lesson in Astronomy</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Poor Blind Woman</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"Good-morning, Sir!"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Playing April-Fool</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Eider-Duck</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Trial-Trip</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Swaddling-Clothes</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Drawing-Lesson</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Fanny and Louise</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>True Story of a Bird</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Rough Sketch</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Peter's Pets</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Strolling Bear</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Parrot and the Sparrow </td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<h3><br />IN VERSE.</h3> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents in Verse"> +<tr><td align='left'>"Popping Corn"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Cooper's Song</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Polliwogs</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Toad</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>That Fox</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Grasshopper Green (<i>with music</i>) </td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_160">160</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> +<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_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/illus129.png" width="350" height="500" alt="THE YOUNG LAMPLIGHTER." title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE YOUNG LAMPLIGHTER.</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_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE YOUNG LAMPLIGHTER.</h2> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 161px;"> +<img src="images/illus130.png" width="161" height="125" alt="W" title="" /> +</div><div class='unindent'><br /><br />ALLACE is a boy about ten years old, who +lives in a town near Boston. He has +a brother Charles, eighteen years of age. +These two brothers are the town lamplighters.</div> + +<p>There are at least fifty lamps to be lighted every night; +and some of them are a good deal farther apart than the +street-lamps in large cities. Charles takes the more distant +ones for his part of the work, and drives from post to post +in a gig.</p> + +<p>Wallace, being a small boy, calls to his aid his father's +saddle-horse. This horse is a kind, gentle creature, and as +wise as he is kind. He and Wallace are about the same +age, and have always been good friends.</p> + +<p>So when Wallace puts the saddle on him every evening, +just before dark, the horse knows just what is going to be +done. He looks at the boy with his great bright eyes, as +much as to say, "We have our evening work to do, haven't +we, Wallace? Well, I'm ready: jump on."</p> + +<p>Wallace mounts the horse; and they go straight to the +nearest lamp-post. Here the horse stops close by the post, +and stands as still and steady as the post itself.</p> + +<p>Then Wallace stands upright on the saddle, takes a match +from his pocket, lights the lamp, drops quickly into his seat +again, takes up the bridle, gives the word to the horse, and +on they go to the next lamp-post.</p> + +<p>So they go on, till all the lamps allotted to Wallace are +lighted. Then they trot home merrily, and, before Wallace +goes to bed himself, I am sure he does not forget to see that +his good horse is well fed and cared for.</p> + +<p>This is a true story.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Uncle Sam.</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_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus131.png" width="500" height="310" alt="Fourth lesson in Astronomy" title="" /> +</div> +<h2>FOURTH LESSON IN ASTRONOMY.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Because</span> our earth has one sun and one moon, you may +think all earths have only one; but wise men have looked +through their telescopes, and have discovered that some of +the stars which look to us like single stars are really double; +and many of them are clusters of three or four, all lighting +up the same planets.</p> + +<p>Those earths, then, have more than one sun: they have +two, three, or four, as the case may be. Think of two suns. +How bright it must be! And imagine one of them red, and +the other blue, as some of them are. Wouldn't you feel as +if you were living in a rainbow?</p> + +<p>And how would you like to look out of the window in +the evening and see four moons? The wise men can see +through their telescopes that Jupiter has four and Saturn +eight. (You remember I told you Jupiter and Saturn are +two of the earths lighted up by our sun.) Shouldn't you +think so many moons would make the nights so bright that +one could hardly go to sleep?</p> + +<p>On the whole, I think we get along very well as we are;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +and I hope the people who live in the brightness of two +suns have strong eyes given them. It must be very beautiful, +though. Perhaps you can get an idea how it seems to +have a red sun, if you look through a piece of red glass; but +I do not believe we can any of us imagine what it would be +like to have two suns of different colors.</p> + +<p>Do you think a red sun shining on a moon makes a red +moon? A colored sun or a colored moon seems very strange +to us; but I suppose the people that are used to them would +think our white light strange.</p> + +<p>I wonder whether the two suns rise and set at the same +time. But we may all wonder and wonder. Nobody knows +much about it. I hope you will all look at a double star +through a telescope, if you ever have an opportunity.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +M. E. R.<br /> +</div> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>"POPPING CORN."</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">Bring</span> a yellow ear of corn, and then rub, rub, rub,<br /> +Till the kernels rattle off from the nub, nub, nub!<br /> +Then put them in a hopper made of wire, wire, wire,<br /> +And set the little hopper on the fire, fire, fire!<br /> +If you find them getting lively, give a shake, shake, shake;<br /> +And a very pretty clatter they will make, make, make:<br /> +You will hear the heated grains going pop, pop, pop;<br /> +All about the little hopper, going hop, hop, hop!<br /> +When you see the yellow corn turning white, white, white,<br /> +You may know that the popping is done right, right, right:<br /> +When the hopper gets too full, you may know, know, know,<br /> +That the fire has changed your corn into snow, snow, snow:<br /> +Turn the snow into a dish, for it is done, done, done;<br /> +Then pass it round and eat—for that's the fun, fun, fun!<br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Fleta F.</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_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus133.png" width="300" height="329" alt="Poor Blind Woman" title="" /> +</div> +<h2>THE POOR BLIND WOMAN.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">I have</span> a true story to tell about a colored woman who +lives in the city of Salem, not far from Boston.</p> + +<p>She is old and poor and blind. She has had a husband +and six children; but they are all dead; her last remaining +son was killed in the war, and she is now quite alone in +the world.</p> + +<p>But she is a cheerful old body. She does not whine, nor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +complain, nor beg; though she needs help much, and is +very thankful for any help that is given her.</p> + +<p>When she goes out to walk, she finds her way as well as +she can by groping about with her big umbrella. Very +often she loses her way, and goes in the wrong direction; +and sometimes she gets bewildered: but I have never known +her to be really lost or hurt. There is always somebody to +set her right; and it is pleasant to see how kind every one +is to her.</p> + +<p>Many a time I have seen some gentleman, while hurrying +to catch his train, stop to help her over the crossing; or +some handsomely-dressed lady take her by the arm, and set +her right, when she has gone astray.</p> + +<p>Best of all it is, though, to see the children so kind to her. +She comes to our square every Saturday; and, as she is very +apt to go to the wrong gate, the little girls—bless their +dear hearts!—seem to consider it their duty to guide her, +and to help her over the slippery places.</p> + +<p>In the picture, you may see Lily helping the poor old +woman along, as I often see her from my window. Another +day it may be Lina, and the next time Mamie; for they are +all good to her. Even baby Robin runs to meet her, and is +not afraid of her black face.</p> + +<p>Last week, these small folks had a fair for her in Lily's +house. Nobody thought they would get so much money; +but they made fifty dollars out of it. This will make the +old woman comfortable for a long time.</p> + +<p>The good woman said, when she was told what they had +done, that she hoped the Lord would reward them, for she +could not.</p> + +<p>I think he has rewarded them already by making them +very happy while they were doing this kind deed.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +P.<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_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus135.png" width="500" height="374" alt="The Cooper" title="" /> +</div> +<h2>THE COOPER'S SONG.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">I am</span> the cooper: I bind the cask:<br /> +The sweat flows down as I drive my task;<br /> +Yet on with the hoop! And merry's the sound<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">As I featly pound,</span><br /> +And with block and hammer go travelling round,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And round and round.</span><br /> +<br /> +I am the cooper: I bind the cask;<br /> +And gay as play is my nimble task;<br /> +And though I grow crooked with stooping to pound,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Yet merry's the sound</span><br /> +As with block and with hammer I journey round<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">And round and round.</span><br /> +<br /> +I am the cooper: I bind the cask:<br /> +Am healthy and happy—what more shall I ask?<br /> +Not in king's palaces, I'll be bound,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Such joy is found,</span><br /> +Where men do nothing, and still go round,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And round and round.</span><br /> +<br /> +So I'll still be a cooper, and bind the cask:<br /> +Bread for children and wife is all I ask;<br /> +And glad will they be at night, I'll be bound,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That, with cheerful sound,</span><br /> +Father all day went a-hammering round,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And round and round.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">From the German.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>"GOOD-MORNING, SIR!"</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> was once a little robin that grew to be so tame, +that it would come to my sister Helen's door every morning +for a few crumbs. Sometimes it would perch on the table.</p> + +<p>What a power there is in kindness! It is very pleasant +to form these friendships with birds; so that they learn to +trust you and to love you. The sound of the human voice +often seems to have a strange effect on animals, as if they +almost understood your words.</p> + +<p>My sister would say, "Good-morning, sir! Come in! +Don't make yourself a stranger. Hard times these; but +you will find plenty of crumbs on the table. Don't be +bashful. You don't rob us. Try as you may, you can't +eat us out of house and home. You have a great appetite, +have you? Oh, well, eat away! No cat is prowling round."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 310px;"> +<img src="images/illus137.png" width="310" height="400" alt="The bird on the sill" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The little bird, as if he knew that my sister was talking +to him, would chirp away, and seem quite happy. As soon +as the warm weather came, his visits were not so frequent; +but, every now and then, he would make his appearance, as +if to say, "Don't forget me, Helen. I may want some more +crumbs when the cold weather comes."</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> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2>PLAYING APRIL-FOOL.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was the last evening in March, and raining drearily +out of doors; but in mamma's sitting-room all was bright, +warm, and cosey. Jim and his big brother Rob were +stretched out on the rug, feet in the air, watching the +blazing fire, and talking of the tricks they meant to play +next day.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said Rob, "you can't fool me! I know about +every way there is of fooling; and I'd just like to see anybody +try it on me!" And Rob rolled over on his back, and +studied the ceiling with a very defiant air.</p> + +<p>Poor little Jim looked very much troubled; for, if Rob +said he could not be fooled, of course he couldn't be; and +he did want to play a trick on Rob so badly! At last he +sprang up, saying, "I'm going to ask mamma;" and ran +out of the room. Rob waited a while; but Jim did not +come back: so he yawned, stretched, and went to bed.</p> + +<p>Next morning, bright and early, up jumped Jim, pulled +on his clothes; wrong-side out and upside down (for he +was not used to dressing himself), and crept softly downstairs.</p> + +<p>An hour or two later, Rob went slowly down, rubbing his +eyes. He put on his cap, and took up the pail to go for +the milk; but it was very heavy. What could be the +matter with it? Why, somebody had got the milk already. +Just then, Jim appeared from behind the door, crying, +"April Fool! April Fool! You thought I couldn't fool +you; but I did."</p> + +<p>Rob looked a little foolish, but said nothing, and went +out to feed his hens. To his great surprise, the biddies +were already enjoying breakfast; and again he heard little +Jim behind him, shouting, "April Fool! April Fool!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<p>Poor Rob! He started to fill the kitchen wood-box; but +Jim had filled it. Jim had filled the water-pails: in fact, +he had done all of Rob's work; and at last, when he +trudged in at breakfast-time, with the sugar that Rob had +been told to bring from the store the first thing after breakfast, +Rob said, "I give up, Jim. You have fooled me well. +But such tricks as yours are first-rate, and I don't care how +many of them you play."</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Aunt Sallie.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>THE EIDER-DUCK.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Did</span> you ever sleep under an eider-down quilt? If you +have, you must have noticed how light and soft it was. +Would you like to hear where the eider-down comes from? +I will tell you.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/illus139.png" width="200" height="146" alt="The eider-duck" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>A long, long way from here, there is a country called +Norway. It is a very cold +country, and very rocky; +and there are a great many +small islands all around it. +It is on these islands that +the dear little eider-ducks +build their nests. They +take a great deal of time +and trouble to make them, +and they use fine seaweed, mosses, and dry sticks, so as to +make them as strong as they can.</p> + +<p>When the mother-duck has laid four or five eggs, which +are of a pretty, green color, she plucks out some of the soft +gray down that grows on her breast, to cover them up, and +keep them warm, while she goes off to find some food.</p> + +<p>And now what do you think happens? Why, when she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +comes back to sit on her eggs, she finds that all her eggs and +beautiful down have been taken away! Oh! how she cries, +and flaps her wings, to find her darling eggs gone!</p> + +<p>But, after a while, she lays five more, and again pulls the +down out of her dear little breast to cover them. She goes +away again; and again the people take the down away.</p> + +<p>When she returns the second time, her cries are very sad +to hear; but, as she is a very brave little duck, she thinks +she will try once more; and this time she is left in peace, +and when she has her dear little children-ducks around her, +you may be sure she is a joyful mamma.</p> + +<p>So this is where the eider-down comes from; and, as +there are a great many ducks, the people get a great deal +of down; and with this down are made the quilts which +keep us so warm in cold winter-nights.</p> + +<p>The eider-down quilts are very light and warm; but I +always feel sorry for the poor mamma-duck.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Sister Pepilla.</span><br /> +</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: 350px;"> +<img src="images/illus140.png" width="350" height="280" alt="Landscape" 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_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 343px;"> +<img src="images/illus141.png" width="343" height="350" alt="The Trial-Trip" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<h2>THE TRIAL-TRIP</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Davie</span> and Harold are two little Boston boys. They are +brothers. Last summer, they had two pretty little yachts +given them by a friend. Then they had a launch in the +bath-tub; and their mamma named the yachts, breaking a +bottle of water (a small medicine-bottle) over the bows. +Davie's yacht was named the "West Wind;" and Harold's, +the "Flyaway."</p> + +<p>One afternoon, the boys went to City Point, hired a +row-boat, and rowed out about halfway to Fort Independence,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +where they put the little vessels into the water for a +trial-trip. It was a pretty sight to see the sails fill with the +wind, and the tiny yachts ride the waves as if they meant +to go to China before they stopped.</p> + +<p>The "West Wind" beat the "Flyaway," and I regret to +say that Davie taunted his brother with the fact, and made +him cry; for Harold is a boy that takes every thing to +heart.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Mamma.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>SWADDLING-CLOTHES</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Did</span> the little readers of "The Nursery" ever think how +thankful they should be for the free use of their arms and +legs? I do not believe it ever came into their thoughts +that there could be any other way than to use them freely. +But in Syria, a country many miles from here, the mothers +do not let their babies kick their feet, and hold out their +dear little hands. They are bound very closely in what are +called "swaddling-clothes."</p> + +<p>They are seldom undressed, and are kept in a rough +cradle, and rocked to sleep as much as possible. When the +mother carries them out, she straps them to her back; and +often, on the mountains there, one may see a woman with a +baby on her back, and a great bundle of sticks in her arms.</p> + +<p>With the sticks she makes her fire, in a room where there +is no chimney, and where the smoke often makes poor +baby's eyes smart; but all he can do, poor swaddled child, +is to open his mouth, and cry.</p> + +<p>This custom of binding the baby up so straight and tight +is a very old one. The Bible tells us, you know, that the +mother of Jesus "wrapped him in swaddling-clothes, and +laid him in a manger." So the people of Syria keep on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +using swaddling-clothes, thinking, that, if they do not, the +baby will grow crooked.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus143.png" width="400" height="300" alt="Mamma and swaddled baby" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>They are used in Russia also, and in other countries of +northern Europe. Poor babies! We pity them.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Em. Junius.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>POLLIWOGS.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">The</span> cat-tails all along the brook<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are growing tall and green;</span><br /> +And in the meadow-pool, once more,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The polliwogs are seen;</span><br /> +Among the duck-weed, in and out,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As quick as thought they dart about;</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>Their constant hurry, to and fro,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It tires me to see:</span><br /> +I wish they knew it did no good<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To so uneasy be!</span><br /> +I mean to ask them if they will<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Be, just for one half-minute, still!</span><br /> +"Be patient, little polliwogs,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by and by you'll turn to frogs."</span><br /> +<br /> +But what's the use to counsel them?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My words are thrown away;</span><br /> +And not a second in one place<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A polliwog will stay.</span><br /> +They still keep darting all about<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The floating duck-weed, in and out.</span><br /> +Well, if they will so restless be,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I will not let it trouble me,</span><br /> +But leave these little polliwogs<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To wriggle till they turn to frogs!</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Marian Douglas.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus144.png" width="300" height="270" alt="Pollywogs" 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_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 366px;"> +<img src="images/illus145.png" width="366" 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_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> +<h2>FANNY AND LOUISE.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Fanny</span> was a little pony, and Louise was a little girl. +Fanny had a long black mane and tail, and Louise had long +brown curls. Louise wore a gypsy-hat with blue ribbons, +and Fanny wore a saddle and bridle with blue girths and +reins.</p> + +<p>Louise was a gentle little girl, and Fanny was a very headstrong +pony; consequently Fanny had it all her own way. +When she was trotting along the road, with Louise on her +back, if she chanced to spy a nice prickly thistle away up +on a bank, up she would scramble, as fast as she could go, +the sand and gravel rolling down under her hoofs; and, no +matter how hard Louise pulled on the reins, there she would +stay until she had eaten the thistle down to the very roots. +Then she would back down the bank, and trot on.</p> + +<p>Fanny was fond of other good things besides thistles. +She would spy an apple on a tree, no matter how thick the +leaves were; and, without waiting to ask Louise's permission, +she would run under the tree, stretch her head up among +the branches, and even raise herself up on her hind-legs, like +a dog, to reach the apple.</p> + +<p>Louise would clasp Fanny around the neck, and bury her +face in her mane: but she often got scratched by the little +twigs; and many a long hair has she left waving from the +apple-boughs after such an adventure.</p> + +<p>Whenever Fanny smelled any very savory odor issuing +from the kitchen, she would trot up, and put her head in at +the window, waiting for Biddy to give her a doughnut or +cooky. One day a boy named Frank borrowed Fanny, as +he wished to ride out with a little girl from the city. As +they were passing a farm-house, Fanny perceived by the +smell that some one was frying crullers there.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 269px;"> +<img src="images/illus147.png" width="269" height="350" alt="Fanny and Louise" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>She immediately ran down the lane to the house, and +stuck her head in at the open window, and would not stir +from the spot until the farmer's wife gave her a cruller. +Then she went quickly back to the road, and behaved very +properly all the rest of the way.</p> + +<p>Fanny was such a good pony, with all her tricks, that the +neighbors often used to borrow her. This Fanny did not +think at all fair; and she soon found a way to put a stop to +it. One warm summer day, the minister borrowed her in +order to visit a sick man about two miles away. After +several hours he returned, very warm and tired, walking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +through the dust, and leading Fanny, who came limping +along, holding down her head, and appearing to be very +lame.</p> + +<p>She had fallen lame when only half-way to the sick man's +house; and the good old minister had led her all the way, +rather than ride her when she was lame. All the family +gathered around Fanny to see where she was hurt, when +Fanny tossed her head, kicked up her heels, and pranced off +to the stable, no more lame than a young kitten. It had +been all a trick to punish the minister for borrowing her. +And it succeeded; for he never asked for Fanny again.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +L. S. H.<br /> +</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> + + + + + +<h2>THE TOAD.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">What</span> a curious thing is the little brown toad;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Do come and look at it, pray!</span><br /> +It sits in the grass, and, when we come near,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Just hops along out of our way.</span><br /> +<br /> +It does not know how to sing like a bird,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor honey to make like a bee;</span><br /> +'Tis not joyous and bright like a butterfly;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, say, of what use can it be?</span><br /> +<br /> +But, since God made it, and placed it here,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He must have meant it to stay:</span><br /> +So we will be kind to you, little brown toad,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And you need not hop out of our way.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +E. A. B.<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_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 267px;"> +<img src="images/illus149.png" width="267" height="350" alt="The Story of a Bird" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<h2>TRUE STORY OF A BIRD.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">One</span> day last spring, in looking over the contents of +some boxes which had long been stowed away in the attic, +I found some pieces of lace, which, though old-fashioned, +seemed to me very pretty. But they were yellow with +age,—quite too yellow for use.</p> + +<p>I took them to the kitchen, and, after a nice washing, +spread them on the grass to bleach. I knew that the bright +sun would soon take away their yellow hue.</p> + +<p>A day or two after, Johnnie came running in, and said,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +"Auntie, the birds are carrying off all your old rags out +there," pointing to the place where the laces were spread. +Out I went to see about my "old rags," as he called them; +and I found that several pieces were missing. We knew +that the birds must have taken them; but, where to look +for them, we could not tell.</p> + +<p>That afternoon, Johnny invited me and his cousins to take +a row with him in his boat to Rocky Island, of which the +readers of "The Nursery" have heard before. We were +all glad to go. As we were passing some bushes on the +bank of the river, one of us spied something white among +them. We wondered what it could be.</p> + +<p>Johnny rowed nearer; and we could see that it was a +piece of lace. Rowing nearer still, we saw another piece, +and another, and at the same time heard the flutter of +wings. We then asked to be landed, and our boatman soon +brought us to shore in fine style.</p> + +<p>On parting the bushes, we saw a nest just begun, and a +piece of lace near it, but not woven in. Close by were four +other pieces; but they were all caught by the little twigs, so +that the bird could not get them to the nest. We took the +lace off carefully, leaving the nest as it was, and brought it +away with us.</p> + +<p>On returning to the house, the children measured the +lace, and found nearly six yards, the largest piece being +about two yards. It seemed quite a lift for the little birds; +and it was too bad that after all they did not get the use +of it. But do you think they were discouraged?</p> + +<p>Oh, no! for they soon had a nice nest built; and one +day Johnny found an egg in the nest, which, from its bright +hue, he knew to be a robin's egg. This was followed by +other eggs, and, in due time, by a whole brood of young +birds.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Aunt Abbie.</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_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus151.png" width="500" height="404" alt="A Rough Sketch" title="" /> +</div> +<h2>A ROUGH SKETCH.</h2> + +<div class='story'> +<p><span class="smcap">Here</span> is a boy drawing on +a wall. He is a shoemaker's +boy. His name is Bob.</p> + +<p>Tom, the baker's boy, and a +little girl named Ann are looking +on. "What is it?" asks +Ann at sight of the picture.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's a fine lady, of course," +says Tom. "Don't you see her +head-dress and her sun-shade?" +Bob is so busy that he cannot +stop to talk.</p> + +<p>He is well pleased with his +work. But the man who is +looking around the corner of +the wall does not look pleased +in the least.</p> + +<p>It is plain that he has no love +for the fine arts. Or it may be +that he does not like to see such +a rough sketch on his wall.</p> + +<p>Perhaps he thinks that when +boys are sent on an errand, +they ought not to loiter by the +way.</p></div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">A. B. C.</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_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 314px;"> +<img src="images/illus153.png" width="314" height="425" alt="PETER'S PETS" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<h2>PETER'S PETS.</h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">How</span> old are they, Peter?" asked Ralph Lamson, pointing +to two little guinea-pigs on a rude cage which Peter +had himself made.</p> + +<p>"I've had them about six weeks," said Peter. "I don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +know how old they were then; but they were only little +things: they've grown twice as big since I've had them."</p> + +<p>"What do you give them to eat?" asked Edwin Moore.</p> + +<p>"Oh! all sorts of things," replied Peter. "They're fond +of carrots, apples, and all sorts of green leaves, and, what +is queer, they are fond of tea-leaves."</p> + +<p>"Fond of tea-leaves!" cried Ralph and Edwin.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Peter, "they like tea-leaves very much. I +give them oats too, and bits of bread."</p> + +<p>"And what do they drink?" asked Edwin.</p> + +<p>"They don't want much to drink, if they get plenty of +green stuff and tea-leaves," said Peter; "but they like a +drop of milk now and then, if they can get it."</p> + +<p>"Where do these animals come from?" asked Ralph.</p> + +<p>"From Brazil and Paraguay in South America. It is +thought that their odor drives away rats; and that is one +reason why we keep them."</p> + +<p>"What will you sell them for?" asked Ralph.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't sell them!" said Peter. "They are my pets. +Funny little fellows they are, and not so stupid as they +seem. This white one I call Daisy; and the other I call +Dozy, because he sleeps a good deal."</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Uncle Charles.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>THE STROLLING BEAR.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> St. Paul, one day last winter, a big black bear was +seen strolling along on the sidewalk on Third Street. He +seemed to be quite at his ease, and would stop now and +then, and look in at the shop-windows.</p> + +<p>Half a dozen men and boys soon gathered behind him, +following him at a safe distance. Others, going up and down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +the street, would stop to learn the cause of the crowd, and +perhaps join it, so that they might see the end of the fun.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus155.png" width="500" height="380" alt="The bear" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>For a while, Bruin did not seem to care much for the +crowd. But they grew to be pretty free in their speech, +calling out to him, "Does your mother know you're out?" +"Will you take a glass of whiskey?" and making other +rude remarks. Bruin stood it for a while, then turned +fiercely upon the crowd, who scattered at once, some running +into shops, and others down the side-streets.</p> + +<p>This free-and-easy bear then continued his stroll. But +the crowd behind him grew larger and larger, and he again +turned upon them, and made them run, all laughing and +shouting, in various directions.</p> + +<p>At last, as if he had had enough of this kind of fun, he +quickened his pace, driving five or six fellows into a saloon, +while he followed close at their heels. The boys on the +other side of the street laughed at this: so he crossed the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +street quickly, and put them to flight; and the way they +all ran was fun for those near the saloon, who were now +the laughers, in their turn.</p> + +<p>At last, a man with whom Bruin was well acquainted, and +on good terms, came up, with a chain in his hand, and threw +it about the bear's neck; and then, as if he had had quite +enough of a stroll, Bruin quietly followed his guide, and was +led back to his owner.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Alfred Selwyn.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>THE PARROT AND THE SPARROW.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">At</span> the "Jardin des Plantes," a famous garden and museum +in Paris, there was once a parrot that took a great fancy to +a little wild sparrow.</p> + +<p>Every morning, the little bird would fly to the parrot's +perch; and there it would sit almost all day by the side of +its great friend. Sometimes the parrot would raise his unchained +claw, and the sparrow would perch upon it.</p> + +<p>Jacquot,—that was the parrot's name,—holding the +sparrow at the end of his claw, would turn his head on one +side, and gaze fondly on the little bird, which would flap its +wings in answer to this sign of friendship. Then Jacquot +would slide down to his food-tin, as if to invite the sparrow +to share his breakfast.</p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 289px;"> +<img src="images/illus157.png" width="289" height="400" alt="THE PARROT AND THE SPARROW." title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Once the parrot was ill for some days. He did not eat: +he trembled with fever, and looked very sad. The sparrow +tried in vain to cheer him up. Then the little bird flew out +into the garden, and soon returned, holding in his beak some +blades of grass. The parrot with great effort managed to +eat them. The sparrow kept him supplied with grass; and +in a few days he was cured.</p> + +<p>Once, when the sparrow was hopping about on the grassplot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +near the parrot's perch, a cat sprang out from some +bushes. At this sight, Jacquot raised a loud cry, and broke +his chain to fly to the aid of his friend. The cat ran away +in terror; and the little bird was saved.</p> + + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Uncle Charles.</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_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> +<h2>THAT FOX!</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><span class="smcap">A little</span> gray fox</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Had a home in the rocks,</span><br /> +And most of his naps and his leisure took there;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">But, one frosty eve,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">He decided to leave,</span><br /> +And for a short absence began to prepare.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">A letter he wrote;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And he brushed up his coat;</span><br /> +And he shook out his tail, which was plumy and fine:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">At first break of day</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">He galloped away,</span><br /> +At some distant farm-house intending to dine.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">How gay he did look,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">As he frisked to the brook,</span><br /> +And gazed at himself in the water so clear!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">He looked with delight</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">At the beautiful sight;</span><br /> +For all was so perfect, from tail-tip to ear!<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">That noon, our gray fox</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Called on good Farmer Knox,</span><br /> +Where some of the fattest of poultry was kept,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And, sly as a mouse,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Lay in wait by the house;</span><br /> +Or, peeping and watching, he stealthily crept.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">He felt very sure</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">He should shortly secure</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>A fat little chicken, or turkey, or goose;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And his eyes were as bright</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">As the stars are at night,</span><br /> +As he tried to decide which his foxship should choose.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus159.png" width="500" height="361" alt="The Fox" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class='poem'> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">From his sharp-pointed nose</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">To the tip of his toes,</span><br /> +He was all expectation!—when, suddenly "<i>Snap!</i>"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">With a "<i>click</i>" and a "<i>clack</i>;"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And, before he could wink,</span><br /> +This smart little fox was caught fast in a trap.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And now that gray fox</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Does not live in the rocks;</span><br /> +And just what his fate was I never have learned:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">This only I know,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">That, a long time ago,</span><br /> +He left there one morning—and never returned.<br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Fleta F.</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_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus160.png" width="500" height="222" alt="GRASSHOPPER GREEN." title="" /> +</div> + + + +<h2>GRASSHOPPER GREEN.</h2> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">T. Crampton.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus160-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/may77.mid">here</a>.]</small><br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +1. +Grasshopper Green is a comical chap;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He lives on the best of fare;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bright little jacket and breeches and cap,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">These are his summer wear.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Out in the meadows he loves to go,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Playing away in the sun;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It's hopperty, skipperty, high and low,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Summer's the time for fun.</span><br /> +<br /> +2. +Grasshopper Green has a dozen wee boys,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And soon as their legs grow strong,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All of them join in his frolicsome joys,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Humming his merry song.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Under the leaves in a happy row,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Soon as the day has begun;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It's hopperty, skipperty, high and low,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Summer's the time for fun.</span><br /> +<br /> +3. +Grasshopper Green has a quaint little house,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It's under a hedge so gay,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grandmother spider as still as a mouse,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Envies him o'er the way.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Little folks always he calls I know,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Out in the beautiful sun:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It's hopperty, skipperty, high and low,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Summer's the time for fun.</span><br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes</h3> +<p>Transcriber's Notes: + +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></div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Nursery, May 1877, Vol. XXI. No. 5, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, MAY 1877 *** + +***** This file should be named 28133-h.htm or 28133-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/1/3/28133/ + +Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. Music +by Linda Cantoni. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Vol. XXI. No. 5, 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, May 1877, Vol. XXI. No. 5 + A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 20, 2009 [EBook #28133] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, MAY 1877 *** + + + + +Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. Music +by Linda Cantoni. + + + + + + + + +THE + +NURSERY + + +_A Monthly Magazine_ + +FOR YOUNGEST READERS. + +VOLUME XXI.--No. 5. + + BOSTON: + JOHN L. SHOREY, No. 36 BROMFIELD STREET, + 1877. + + + +Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by + +JOHN L. SHOREY, + +In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. + +FRANKLIN PRESS: RAND, AVERY, AND COMPANY, 117 FRANKLIN STREET, BOSTON. + + +[Illustration: Contents] + + +IN PROSE. + + The Young Lamplighter 129 + Fourth Lesson in Astronomy 131 + The Poor Blind Woman 133 + "Good-morning, Sir!" 136 + Playing April-Fool 138 + The Eider-Duck 139 + The Trial-Trip 141 + Swaddling-Clothes 142 + Drawing-Lesson 145 + Fanny and Louise 146 + True Story of a Bird 149 + A Rough Sketch 151 + Peter's Pets 153 + The Strolling Bear 154 + The Parrot and the Sparrow 156 + + +IN VERSE. + + "Popping Corn" 132 + The Cooper's Song 135 + Polliwogs 143 + The Toad 148 + That Fox 158 + Grasshopper Green (_with music_) 160 + +[Illustration: Decoration] + + + +[Illustration: THE YOUNG LAMPLIGHTER.] + + + + +THE YOUNG LAMPLIGHTER. + + +[Illustration: W]ALLACE is a boy about ten years old, who lives in a +town near Boston. He has a brother Charles, eighteen years of age. These +two brothers are the town lamplighters. + +There are at least fifty lamps to be lighted every night; and some of +them are a good deal farther apart than the street-lamps in large +cities. Charles takes the more distant ones for his part of the work, +and drives from post to post in a gig. + +Wallace, being a small boy, calls to his aid his father's saddle-horse. +This horse is a kind, gentle creature, and as wise as he is kind. He and +Wallace are about the same age, and have always been good friends. + +So when Wallace puts the saddle on him every evening, just before dark, +the horse knows just what is going to be done. He looks at the boy with +his great bright eyes, as much as to say, "We have our evening work to +do, haven't we, Wallace? Well, I'm ready: jump on." + +Wallace mounts the horse; and they go straight to the nearest lamp-post. +Here the horse stops close by the post, and stands as still and steady +as the post itself. + +Then Wallace stands upright on the saddle, takes a match from his +pocket, lights the lamp, drops quickly into his seat again, takes up the +bridle, gives the word to the horse, and on they go to the next +lamp-post. + +So they go on, till all the lamps allotted to Wallace are lighted. Then +they trot home merrily, and, before Wallace goes to bed himself, I am +sure he does not forget to see that his good horse is well fed and cared +for. + +This is a true story. + + UNCLE SAM. + +[Illustration] + + + + +FOURTH LESSON IN ASTRONOMY. + + +BECAUSE our earth has one sun and one moon, you may think all earths +have only one; but wise men have looked through their telescopes, and +have discovered that some of the stars which look to us like single +stars are really double; and many of them are clusters of three or four, +all lighting up the same planets. + +Those earths, then, have more than one sun: they have two, three, or +four, as the case may be. Think of two suns. How bright it must be! And +imagine one of them red, and the other blue, as some of them are. +Wouldn't you feel as if you were living in a rainbow? + +And how would you like to look out of the window in the evening and see +four moons? The wise men can see through their telescopes that Jupiter +has four and Saturn eight. (You remember I told you Jupiter and Saturn +are two of the earths lighted up by our sun.) Shouldn't you think so +many moons would make the nights so bright that one could hardly go to +sleep? + +On the whole, I think we get along very well as we are; and I hope the +people who live in the brightness of two suns have strong eyes given +them. It must be very beautiful, though. Perhaps you can get an idea how +it seems to have a red sun, if you look through a piece of red glass; +but I do not believe we can any of us imagine what it would be like to +have two suns of different colors. + +Do you think a red sun shining on a moon makes a red moon? A colored sun +or a colored moon seems very strange to us; but I suppose the people +that are used to them would think our white light strange. + +I wonder whether the two suns rise and set at the same time. But we may +all wonder and wonder. Nobody knows much about it. I hope you will all +look at a double star through a telescope, if you ever have an +opportunity. + + M. E. R. + +[Illustration] + + + + +"POPPING CORN." + + + BRING a yellow ear of corn, and then rub, rub, rub, + Till the kernels rattle off from the nub, nub, nub! + Then put them in a hopper made of wire, wire, wire, + And set the little hopper on the fire, fire, fire! + If you find them getting lively, give a shake, shake, shake; + And a very pretty clatter they will make, make, make: + You will hear the heated grains going pop, pop, pop; + All about the little hopper, going hop, hop, hop! + When you see the yellow corn turning white, white, white, + You may know that the popping is done right, right, right: + When the hopper gets too full, you may know, know, know, + That the fire has changed your corn into snow, snow, snow: + Turn the snow into a dish, for it is done, done, done; + Then pass it round and eat--for that's the fun, fun, fun! + + FLETA F. + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE POOR BLIND WOMAN. + + +I HAVE a true story to tell about a colored woman who lives in the city +of Salem, not far from Boston. + +She is old and poor and blind. She has had a husband and six children; +but they are all dead; her last remaining son was killed in the war, and +she is now quite alone in the world. + +But she is a cheerful old body. She does not whine, nor complain, nor +beg; though she needs help much, and is very thankful for any help that +is given her. + +When she goes out to walk, she finds her way as well as she can by +groping about with her big umbrella. Very often she loses her way, and +goes in the wrong direction; and sometimes she gets bewildered: but I +have never known her to be really lost or hurt. There is always somebody +to set her right; and it is pleasant to see how kind every one is to +her. + +Many a time I have seen some gentleman, while hurrying to catch his +train, stop to help her over the crossing; or some handsomely-dressed +lady take her by the arm, and set her right, when she has gone astray. + +Best of all it is, though, to see the children so kind to her. She comes +to our square every Saturday; and, as she is very apt to go to the wrong +gate, the little girls--bless their dear hearts!--seem to consider it +their duty to guide her, and to help her over the slippery places. + +In the picture, you may see Lily helping the poor old woman along, as I +often see her from my window. Another day it may be Lina, and the next +time Mamie; for they are all good to her. Even baby Robin runs to meet +her, and is not afraid of her black face. + +Last week, these small folks had a fair for her in Lily's house. Nobody +thought they would get so much money; but they made fifty dollars out of +it. This will make the old woman comfortable for a long time. + +The good woman said, when she was told what they had done, that she +hoped the Lord would reward them, for she could not. + +I think he has rewarded them already by making them very happy while +they were doing this kind deed. + + P. + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE COOPER'S SONG. + + + I AM the cooper: I bind the cask: + The sweat flows down as I drive my task; + Yet on with the hoop! And merry's the sound + As I featly pound, + And with block and hammer go travelling round, + And round and round. + + I am the cooper: I bind the cask; + And gay as play is my nimble task; + And though I grow crooked with stooping to pound, + Yet merry's the sound + As with block and with hammer I journey round + And round and round. + + I am the cooper: I bind the cask: + Am healthy and happy--what more shall I ask? + Not in king's palaces, I'll be bound, + Such joy is found, + Where men do nothing, and still go round, + And round and round. + + So I'll still be a cooper, and bind the cask: + Bread for children and wife is all I ask; + And glad will they be at night, I'll be bound, + That, with cheerful sound, + Father all day went a-hammering round, + And round and round. + + FROM THE GERMAN. + + + + +"GOOD-MORNING, SIR!" + + +THERE was once a little robin that grew to be so tame, that it would +come to my sister Helen's door every morning for a few crumbs. Sometimes +it would perch on the table. + +What a power there is in kindness! It is very pleasant to form these +friendships with birds; so that they learn to trust you and to love you. +The sound of the human voice often seems to have a strange effect on +animals, as if they almost understood your words. + +My sister would say, "Good-morning, sir! Come in! Don't make yourself a +stranger. Hard times these; but you will find plenty of crumbs on the +table. Don't be bashful. You don't rob us. Try as you may, you can't eat +us out of house and home. You have a great appetite, have you? Oh, well, +eat away! No cat is prowling round." + +[Illustration] + +The little bird, as if he knew that my sister was talking to him, would +chirp away, and seem quite happy. As soon as the warm weather came, his +visits were not so frequent; but, every now and then, he would make his +appearance, as if to say, "Don't forget me, Helen. I may want some more +crumbs when the cold weather comes." + + IDA FAY. + + + + +PLAYING APRIL-FOOL. + + +IT was the last evening in March, and raining drearily out of doors; but +in mamma's sitting-room all was bright, warm, and cosey. Jim and his big +brother Rob were stretched out on the rug, feet in the air, watching the +blazing fire, and talking of the tricks they meant to play next day. + +"No, sir," said Rob, "you can't fool me! I know about every way there is +of fooling; and I'd just like to see anybody try it on me!" And Rob +rolled over on his back, and studied the ceiling with a very defiant +air. + +Poor little Jim looked very much troubled; for, if Rob said he could not +be fooled, of course he couldn't be; and he did want to play a trick on +Rob so badly! At last he sprang up, saying, "I'm going to ask mamma;" +and ran out of the room. Rob waited a while; but Jim did not come back: +so he yawned, stretched, and went to bed. + +Next morning, bright and early, up jumped Jim, pulled on his clothes; +wrong-side out and upside down (for he was not used to dressing +himself), and crept softly downstairs. + +An hour or two later, Rob went slowly down, rubbing his eyes. He put on +his cap, and took up the pail to go for the milk; but it was very heavy. +What could be the matter with it? Why, somebody had got the milk +already. Just then, Jim appeared from behind the door, crying, "April +Fool! April Fool! You thought I couldn't fool you; but I did." + +Rob looked a little foolish, but said nothing, and went out to feed his +hens. To his great surprise, the biddies were already enjoying +breakfast; and again he heard little Jim behind him, shouting, "April +Fool! April Fool!" + +Poor Rob! He started to fill the kitchen wood-box; but Jim had filled +it. Jim had filled the water-pails: in fact, he had done all of Rob's +work; and at last, when he trudged in at breakfast-time, with the sugar +that Rob had been told to bring from the store the first thing after +breakfast, Rob said, "I give up, Jim. You have fooled me well. But such +tricks as yours are first-rate, and I don't care how many of them you +play." + + AUNT SALLIE. + + + + +THE EIDER-DUCK. + + +DID you ever sleep under an eider-down quilt? If you have, you must have +noticed how light and soft it was. Would you like to hear where the +eider-down comes from? I will tell you. + +[Illustration] + +A long, long way from here, there is a country called Norway. It is a +very cold country, and very rocky; and there are a great many small +islands all around it. It is on these islands that the dear little +eider-ducks build their nests. They take a great deal of time and +trouble to make them, and they use fine seaweed, mosses, and dry sticks, +so as to make them as strong as they can. + +When the mother-duck has laid four or five eggs, which are of a pretty, +green color, she plucks out some of the soft gray down that grows on her +breast, to cover them up, and keep them warm, while she goes off to find +some food. + +And now what do you think happens? Why, when she comes back to sit on +her eggs, she finds that all her eggs and beautiful down have been taken +away! Oh! how she cries, and flaps her wings, to find her darling eggs +gone! + +But, after a while, she lays five more, and again pulls the down out of +her dear little breast to cover them. She goes away again; and again the +people take the down away. + +When she returns the second time, her cries are very sad to hear; but, +as she is a very brave little duck, she thinks she will try once more; +and this time she is left in peace, and when she has her dear little +children-ducks around her, you may be sure she is a joyful mamma. + +So this is where the eider-down comes from; and, as there are a great +many ducks, the people get a great deal of down; and with this down are +made the quilts which keep us so warm in cold winter-nights. + +The eider-down quilts are very light and warm; but I always feel sorry +for the poor mamma-duck. + + SISTER PEPILLA. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE TRIAL-TRIP + + +DAVIE and Harold are two little Boston boys. They are brothers. Last +summer, they had two pretty little yachts given them by a friend. Then +they had a launch in the bath-tub; and their mamma named the yachts, +breaking a bottle of water (a small medicine-bottle) over the bows. +Davie's yacht was named the "West Wind;" and Harold's, the "Flyaway." + +One afternoon, the boys went to City Point, hired a row-boat, and rowed +out about halfway to Fort Independence, where they put the little +vessels into the water for a trial-trip. It was a pretty sight to see +the sails fill with the wind, and the tiny yachts ride the waves as if +they meant to go to China before they stopped. + +The "West Wind" beat the "Flyaway," and I regret to say that Davie +taunted his brother with the fact, and made him cry; for Harold is a boy +that takes every thing to heart. + + MAMMA. + + + + +SWADDLING-CLOTHES + + +DID the little readers of "The Nursery" ever think how thankful they +should be for the free use of their arms and legs? I do not believe it +ever came into their thoughts that there could be any other way than to +use them freely. But in Syria, a country many miles from here, the +mothers do not let their babies kick their feet, and hold out their dear +little hands. They are bound very closely in what are called +"swaddling-clothes." + +They are seldom undressed, and are kept in a rough cradle, and rocked to +sleep as much as possible. When the mother carries them out, she straps +them to her back; and often, on the mountains there, one may see a woman +with a baby on her back, and a great bundle of sticks in her arms. + +With the sticks she makes her fire, in a room where there is no chimney, +and where the smoke often makes poor baby's eyes smart; but all he can +do, poor swaddled child, is to open his mouth, and cry. + +This custom of binding the baby up so straight and tight is a very old +one. The Bible tells us, you know, that the mother of Jesus "wrapped him +in swaddling-clothes, and laid him in a manger." So the people of Syria +keep on using swaddling-clothes, thinking, that, if they do not, the +baby will grow crooked. + +[Illustration] + +They are used in Russia also, and in other countries of northern Europe. +Poor babies! We pity them. + + EM. JUNIUS. + + + + +POLLIWOGS. + + + THE cat-tails all along the brook + Are growing tall and green; + And in the meadow-pool, once more, + The polliwogs are seen; + Among the duck-weed, in and out, + As quick as thought they dart about; + Their constant hurry, to and fro, + It tires me to see: + I wish they knew it did no good + To so uneasy be! + I mean to ask them if they will + Be, just for one half-minute, still! + "Be patient, little polliwogs, + And by and by you'll turn to frogs." + + But what's the use to counsel them? + My words are thrown away; + And not a second in one place + A polliwog will stay. + They still keep darting all about + The floating duck-weed, in and out. + Well, if they will so restless be, + I will not let it trouble me, + But leave these little polliwogs + To wriggle till they turn to frogs! + + MARIAN DOUGLAS. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration: DRAWING-LESSON BY HARRISON WEIR. + +VOL. XXI.--NO. 5.] + + + + +FANNY AND LOUISE. + + +FANNY was a little pony, and Louise was a little girl. Fanny had a long +black mane and tail, and Louise had long brown curls. Louise wore a +gypsy-hat with blue ribbons, and Fanny wore a saddle and bridle with +blue girths and reins. + +Louise was a gentle little girl, and Fanny was a very headstrong pony; +consequently Fanny had it all her own way. When she was trotting along +the road, with Louise on her back, if she chanced to spy a nice prickly +thistle away up on a bank, up she would scramble, as fast as she could +go, the sand and gravel rolling down under her hoofs; and, no matter how +hard Louise pulled on the reins, there she would stay until she had +eaten the thistle down to the very roots. Then she would back down the +bank, and trot on. + +Fanny was fond of other good things besides thistles. She would spy an +apple on a tree, no matter how thick the leaves were; and, without +waiting to ask Louise's permission, she would run under the tree, +stretch her head up among the branches, and even raise herself up on her +hind-legs, like a dog, to reach the apple. + +Louise would clasp Fanny around the neck, and bury her face in her mane: +but she often got scratched by the little twigs; and many a long hair +has she left waving from the apple-boughs after such an adventure. + +Whenever Fanny smelled any very savory odor issuing from the kitchen, +she would trot up, and put her head in at the window, waiting for Biddy +to give her a doughnut or cooky. One day a boy named Frank borrowed +Fanny, as he wished to ride out with a little girl from the city. As +they were passing a farm-house, Fanny perceived by the smell that some +one was frying crullers there. + +[Illustration] + +She immediately ran down the lane to the house, and stuck her head in at +the open window, and would not stir from the spot until the farmer's +wife gave her a cruller. Then she went quickly back to the road, and +behaved very properly all the rest of the way. + +Fanny was such a good pony, with all her tricks, that the neighbors +often used to borrow her. This Fanny did not think at all fair; and she +soon found a way to put a stop to it. One warm summer day, the minister +borrowed her in order to visit a sick man about two miles away. After +several hours he returned, very warm and tired, walking through the +dust, and leading Fanny, who came limping along, holding down her head, +and appearing to be very lame. + +She had fallen lame when only half-way to the sick man's house; and the +good old minister had led her all the way, rather than ride her when she +was lame. All the family gathered around Fanny to see where she was +hurt, when Fanny tossed her head, kicked up her heels, and pranced off +to the stable, no more lame than a young kitten. It had been all a trick +to punish the minister for borrowing her. And it succeeded; for he never +asked for Fanny again. + + L. S. H. + +[Illustration] + + + + + +THE TOAD. + + + WHAT a curious thing is the little brown toad; + Do come and look at it, pray! + It sits in the grass, and, when we come near, + Just hops along out of our way. + + It does not know how to sing like a bird, + Nor honey to make like a bee; + 'Tis not joyous and bright like a butterfly; + Oh, say, of what use can it be? + + But, since God made it, and placed it here, + He must have meant it to stay: + So we will be kind to you, little brown toad, + And you need not hop out of our way. + + E. A. B. + +[Illustration] + + + + +TRUE STORY OF A BIRD. + +ONE day last spring, in looking over the contents of some boxes which +had long been stowed away in the attic, I found some pieces of lace, +which, though old-fashioned, seemed to me very pretty. But they were +yellow with age,--quite too yellow for use. + +I took them to the kitchen, and, after a nice washing, spread them on +the grass to bleach. I knew that the bright sun would soon take away +their yellow hue. + +A day or two after, Johnnie came running in, and said, "Auntie, the +birds are carrying off all your old rags out there," pointing to the +place where the laces were spread. Out I went to see about my "old +rags," as he called them; and I found that several pieces were missing. +We knew that the birds must have taken them; but, where to look for +them, we could not tell. + +That afternoon, Johnny invited me and his cousins to take a row with him +in his boat to Rocky Island, of which the readers of "The Nursery" have +heard before. We were all glad to go. As we were passing some bushes on +the bank of the river, one of us spied something white among them. We +wondered what it could be. + +Johnny rowed nearer; and we could see that it was a piece of lace. +Rowing nearer still, we saw another piece, and another, and at the same +time heard the flutter of wings. We then asked to be landed, and our +boatman soon brought us to shore in fine style. + +On parting the bushes, we saw a nest just begun, and a piece of lace +near it, but not woven in. Close by were four other pieces; but they +were all caught by the little twigs, so that the bird could not get them +to the nest. We took the lace off carefully, leaving the nest as it was, +and brought it away with us. + +On returning to the house, the children measured the lace, and found +nearly six yards, the largest piece being about two yards. It seemed +quite a lift for the little birds; and it was too bad that after all +they did not get the use of it. But do you think they were discouraged? + +Oh, no! for they soon had a nice nest built; and one day Johnny found an +egg in the nest, which, from its bright hue, he knew to be a robin's +egg. This was followed by other eggs, and, in due time, by a whole brood +of young birds. + + AUNT ABBIE. + +[Illustration] + + + + +A ROUGH SKETCH. + + +HERE is a boy drawing on a wall. He is a shoemaker's boy. His name is +Bob. + +Tom, the baker's boy, and a little girl named Ann are looking on. "What +is it?" asks Ann at sight of the picture. + +"It's a fine lady, of course," says Tom. "Don't you see her head-dress +and her sun-shade?" Bob is so busy that he cannot stop to talk. + +He is well pleased with his work. But the man who is looking around the +corner of the wall does not look pleased in the least. + +It is plain that he has no love for the fine arts. Or it may be that he +does not like to see such a rough sketch on his wall. + +Perhaps he thinks that when boys are sent on an errand, they ought not +to loiter by the way. + + A. B. C. + +[Illustration] + + + + +PETER'S PETS. + + +"HOW old are they, Peter?" asked Ralph Lamson, pointing to two little +guinea-pigs on a rude cage which Peter had himself made. + +"I've had them about six weeks," said Peter. "I don't know how old they +were then; but they were only little things: they've grown twice as big +since I've had them." + +"What do you give them to eat?" asked Edwin Moore. + +"Oh! all sorts of things," replied Peter. "They're fond of carrots, +apples, and all sorts of green leaves, and, what is queer, they are fond +of tea-leaves." + +"Fond of tea-leaves!" cried Ralph and Edwin. + +"Yes," said Peter, "they like tea-leaves very much. I give them oats +too, and bits of bread." + +"And what do they drink?" asked Edwin. + +"They don't want much to drink, if they get plenty of green stuff and +tea-leaves," said Peter; "but they like a drop of milk now and then, if +they can get it." + +"Where do these animals come from?" asked Ralph. + +"From Brazil and Paraguay in South America. It is thought that their +odor drives away rats; and that is one reason why we keep them." + +"What will you sell them for?" asked Ralph. + +"Oh, I can't sell them!" said Peter. "They are my pets. Funny little +fellows they are, and not so stupid as they seem. This white one I call +Daisy; and the other I call Dozy, because he sleeps a good deal." + + UNCLE CHARLES. + + + + +THE STROLLING BEAR. + + +IN St. Paul, one day last winter, a big black bear was seen strolling +along on the sidewalk on Third Street. He seemed to be quite at his +ease, and would stop now and then, and look in at the shop-windows. + +Half a dozen men and boys soon gathered behind him, following him at a +safe distance. Others, going up and down the street, would stop to +learn the cause of the crowd, and perhaps join it, so that they might +see the end of the fun. + +[Illustration] + +For a while, Bruin did not seem to care much for the crowd. But they +grew to be pretty free in their speech, calling out to him, "Does your +mother know you're out?" "Will you take a glass of whiskey?" and making +other rude remarks. Bruin stood it for a while, then turned fiercely +upon the crowd, who scattered at once, some running into shops, and +others down the side-streets. + +This free-and-easy bear then continued his stroll. But the crowd behind +him grew larger and larger, and he again turned upon them, and made them +run, all laughing and shouting, in various directions. + +At last, as if he had had enough of this kind of fun, he quickened his +pace, driving five or six fellows into a saloon, while he followed close +at their heels. The boys on the other side of the street laughed at +this: so he crossed the street quickly, and put them to flight; and the +way they all ran was fun for those near the saloon, who were now the +laughers, in their turn. + +At last, a man with whom Bruin was well acquainted, and on good terms, +came up, with a chain in his hand, and threw it about the bear's neck; +and then, as if he had had quite enough of a stroll, Bruin quietly +followed his guide, and was led back to his owner. + + ALFRED SELWYN. + + + + +THE PARROT AND THE SPARROW. + + +AT the "Jardin des Plantes," a famous garden and museum in Paris, there +was once a parrot that took a great fancy to a little wild sparrow. + +Every morning, the little bird would fly to the parrot's perch; and +there it would sit almost all day by the side of its great friend. +Sometimes the parrot would raise his unchained claw, and the sparrow +would perch upon it. + +Jacquot,--that was the parrot's name,--holding the sparrow at the end of +his claw, would turn his head on one side, and gaze fondly on the little +bird, which would flap its wings in answer to this sign of friendship. +Then Jacquot would slide down to his food-tin, as if to invite the +sparrow to share his breakfast. + +Once the parrot was ill for some days. He did not eat: he trembled with +fever, and looked very sad. The sparrow tried in vain to cheer him up. +Then the little bird flew out into the garden, and soon returned, +holding in his beak some blades of grass. The parrot with great effort +managed to eat them. The sparrow kept him supplied with grass; and in a +few days he was cured. + +Once, when the sparrow was hopping about on the grassplot near the +parrot's perch, a cat sprang out from some bushes. At this sight, +Jacquot raised a loud cry, and broke his chain to fly to the aid of his +friend. The cat ran away in terror; and the little bird was saved. + +[Illustration] + + UNCLE CHARLES. + + + + +THAT FOX! + + + A LITTLE gray fox + Had a home in the rocks, + And most of his naps and his leisure took there; + But, one frosty eve, + He decided to leave, + And for a short absence began to prepare. + + A letter he wrote; + And he brushed up his coat; + And he shook out his tail, which was plumy and fine: + At first break of day + He galloped away, + At some distant farm-house intending to dine. + + How gay he did look, + As he frisked to the brook, + And gazed at himself in the water so clear! + He looked with delight + At the beautiful sight; + For all was so perfect, from tail-tip to ear! + + That noon, our gray fox + Called on good Farmer Knox, + Where some of the fattest of poultry was kept, + And, sly as a mouse, + Lay in wait by the house; + Or, peeping and watching, he stealthily crept. + + He felt very sure + He should shortly secure + A fat little chicken, or turkey, or goose; + And his eyes were as bright + As the stars are at night, + As he tried to decide which his foxship should choose. + +[Illustration] + + From his sharp-pointed nose + To the tip of his toes, + He was all expectation!--when, suddenly "_Snap!_" + With a "_click_" and a "_clack_;" + And, before he could wink, + This smart little fox was caught fast in a trap. + + And now that gray fox + Does not live in the rocks; + And just what his fate was I never have learned: + This only I know, + That, a long time ago, + He left there one morning--and never returned. + + FLETA F. + +[Illustration: GRASSHOPPER GREEN.] + + + + +GRASSHOPPER GREEN. + + T. CRAMPTON. + +[Illustration: music] + + 1. + Grasshopper Green is a comical chap; + He lives on the best of fare; + Bright little jacket and breeches and cap, + These are his summer wear. + Out in the meadows he loves to go, + Playing away in the sun; + It's hopperty, skipperty, high and low, + Summer's the time for fun. + + 2. + Grasshopper Green has a dozen wee boys, + And soon as their legs grow strong, + All of them join in his frolicsome joys, + Humming his merry song. + Under the leaves in a happy row, + Soon as the day has begun; + It's hopperty, skipperty, high and low, + Summer's the time for fun. + + 3. + Grasshopper Green has a quaint little house, + It's under a hedge so gay, + Grandmother spider as still as a mouse, + Envies him o'er the way. + Little folks always he calls I know, + Out in the beautiful sun: + It's hopperty, skipperty, high and low, + Summer's the time for fun. + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes: + +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. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Nursery, May 1877, Vol. XXI. No. 5, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, MAY 1877 *** + +***** This file should be named 28133.txt or 28133.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/1/3/28133/ + +Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. Music +by Linda Cantoni. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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