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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Nursery, June 1877, Vol. XXI., By Various.
+    </title>
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+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's The Nursery, June 1877, Vol. XXI. No. 6, 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, June 1877, Vol. XXI. No. 6
+       A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: February 20, 2009 [EBook #28134]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, JUNE 1877 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</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.&mdash;No. 6.<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'>Arthur's New Sloop</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A True Story</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Playing Soldier</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Madie's Visit at Grandma's</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>What I overheard</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Encounter</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Jamie's Letter to a Little Uncle&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Disappointed Kitty</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Mare and her Colt</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Fisherman's Return</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>More about Crickets</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Fifth Lesson in Astronomy</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_185">185</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'>Tot's Turnover</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Kingfisher</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_166">166</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Bye-Lo-Land</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Kissing a Sunbeam</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>The Puppy and the Wasp&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>June</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;">
+<img src="images/contents_end.png" width="200" height="139" alt="Birds" 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_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 357px;">
+<img src="images/illus161.png" width="357" height="500" alt="ARTHUR&#39;S NEW SLOOP." title="" />
+<span class="caption">ARTHUR&#39;S NEW SLOOP.</span>
+</div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
+<h2>ARTHUR'S NEW SLOOP.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 120px;">
+<img src="images/illus162.png" width="120" height="125" alt="N" title="" />
+</div><div class='unindent'><br /><br />OW, boys," said Uncle Martin, "if you were at
+sea in a vessel like this, what should you do
+when you saw a squall coming up?"</div>
+
+<p>"I should take in all sail, and scud under
+bare poles," said Arthur.</p>
+
+<p>"But what if you did not want to be blown ashore?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then I should leave out the first reef, so as to catch as
+much wind as I could risk, and steer for the sea, the sea, the
+open sea."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's pretty well said, though not just as a sailor
+would say it. Look here, Henry, where is the stern?"</p>
+
+<p>"You have your left hand on it, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"That's true. And where's the rudder?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your little finger is resting on it."</p>
+
+<p>"What sort of a craft do you call this?"</p>
+
+<p>"I call it a sloop; for it has but one mast."</p>
+
+<p>"If you were holding the tiller, and I were to say, 'Larboard'
+or 'port,' what should you do?"</p>
+
+<p>"If I stood looking forward, I should move the tiller to
+the left side of the vessel."</p>
+
+<p>"That's right; and, if I said 'Starboard,' you would move
+the tiller to the right side.&mdash;Now, boys, which of you can
+tell me the difference between a tiller and a helm?"</p>
+
+<p>"I always thought," said Arthur, "that they meant pretty
+much the same thing."</p>
+
+<p>"No: the difference is this," said Uncle Martin: "A tiller
+is this little bar or handle by which I move the rudder.
+The helm is the whole of the things for steering, consisting
+of a rudder, a tiller, and, in large vessels, a wheel by which
+the tiller is moved. So a tiller is only a part of the helm."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, now I understand," said Arthur. "How jolly it is
+to have an Uncle Martin to explain things!"</p>
+
+<p>"You rogue, you expect me to be at the launch, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, uncle: I've got a bottle of hard cider to smash, on
+the occasion. It ought to be rum, by the old rule."</p>
+
+<p>"The best thing to do with rum is to pour it into the
+sea," said Uncle Martin. "But what's the name of the new
+sloop?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! that you will hear at the launch," said Arthur.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the 'Artful Dodger,'" whispered brother Henry.</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>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
+<img src="images/illus163.png" width="300" height="207" alt="Tot&#39;s Turnover" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<h2>TOT'S TURNOVER.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">Sugared</span> and scalloped and cut as you see,<br />
+With juicy red wreath and name, <span class="smcap">t-o-t</span>,<br />
+This is the turnover dear little Tot<br />
+Set in the window there all piping hot:<br />
+Proud of her work, she has left it to cool:<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>Benny must share it when he's out of school.<br />
+</div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
+<img src="images/illus164.png" width="300" height="198" alt="Prince stealing" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Scenting its flavor, Prince happens that way,<br />
+Wonders if Tot will give him some to-day.<br />
+Benny is coming, he's now at the gate&mdash;<br />
+Prince for himself decides not to wait.<br />
+Oh, pity! 'tis gone, and here you and I<br />
+See the last that Tot saw of that pretty pie.<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+M. A. C.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
+<h2>A TRUE STORY.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Once</span>, when I lived in the country, some robins built a
+nest in a lilac-bush in the garden. One day I looked in the
+nest, and saw one little green egg. Two or three days after,
+I saw three more little green eggs, and pretty soon what did
+I see there but four little cunning baby-birdies?</p>
+
+<p>The old birds seemed so happy as they fed their little
+ones, who opened their mouths wide to take the food in,
+that I loved dearly to watch them.</p>
+
+<p>One night there came a terrible storm of wind and rain.
+When I awoke in the morning, and opened my window,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
+there were the old robins flying about the garden in great
+distress, making such a dreadful cry, that I went out to see
+what was the matter. What do you think I saw?</p>
+
+<p>The pretty nest was on the ground, torn in pieces by the
+wind; and the little baby-birds lay in the cold wet grass,
+crying pitifully. The old birds were flying about, and
+beating the grass with their wings.</p>
+
+<p>I ran to the house, and found an old tin pail. I lined this
+with nice hay from Billy's stable, picked up the poor little
+robins, and put them in the warm dry hay. Then I hung
+the pail on a branch of the bush, tied it firmly with some
+twine, and went into the house to watch the old birds from
+my window.</p>
+
+<p>They looked first on one side, then on the other, to see
+that there was nobody near. At last they flew to the old
+pail, and stood on its edge. Pretty soon they began to sing
+as if they were just as happy as they could be.</p>
+
+<p>I think they liked the old pail just as well as their pretty
+nest; for they lived in it till the little baby-birdies were
+able to fly, and to feed themselves.</p>
+
+<p>One day I looked in the pail, and it was empty. The
+birdies had grown up, and had flown away.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Hannah Paulding.</span><br />
+</div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 275px;">
+<img src="images/illus165.png" width="275" height="203" alt="Baby birds" 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_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>THE KINGFISHER.</h2>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 217px;">
+<img src="images/illus166.png" width="217" height="700" alt="The Kingfisher" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class='poem'><br /><br /><br />
+<span class="smcap">Where</span> the white lilies quiver<br />
+By the sedge in the river,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I fly in and out,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I hunt all about;</span><br />
+For I am the daring kingfisher,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">kingfisher!</span><br />
+<br /><br />
+Rod and line have not I,<br />
+But, a fish when I spy,<br />
+From the tree-top I start,<br />
+And down, down, I dart;<br />
+For I am the daring kingfisher, kingfisher!<br />
+<br /><br />
+My dinner I make,<br />
+My pleasure I take,<br />
+And the fish must be quick<br />
+That would parry my trick;<br />
+For I am the daring kingfisher, kingfisher!<br />
+<br /><br />
+Now summer is near,<br />
+And the boys will be here;<br />
+But I fly or I run,<br />
+When I look on a gun,<br />
+Tho' I am the daring kingfisher, kingfisher!<br /><br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Emily Carter.</span><br /><br /><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_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus167.png" width="500" height="376" alt="Playing Soldier" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>PLAYING SOLDIER.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Little</span> Mary lives in Boston. She has no brothers or
+sisters to play with her, and no mother. But her papa
+plays with her a great deal.</p>
+
+<p>There is one game she has with him that is very entertaining
+to others who are looking on. At least so her
+aunts and uncles thought on Thanksgiving evening, when
+it was played for their amusement. I have called the game
+"Playing soldier." Mary was the captain; and her papa
+was the soldier.</p>
+
+<p>This is the way it was done: Mary went to her papa, who
+was standing, and placed herself in front of him, with her
+back against him. "Shoulder arms!" shouted the little
+captain; and her tall soldier immediately put her on his
+left shoulder, in imitation of the real soldier, who holds
+his musket or gun against that place.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Forward march!" shouted our little captain again; and
+her soldier marched forward with a quick step.</p>
+
+<p>"Halt!" cried she after he had marched back; and he
+stopped at once.</p>
+
+<p>"Ground arms!" was the next command; and the soldier
+put his captain down on the floor in front of him just as
+she had stood before&mdash;and the play was over.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+M.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
+<h2>MADIE'S VISIT AT GRANDMA'S.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Madie</span> is a dear little girl who lives in a pretty village
+in the State of New York. Every summer she goes to visit
+her grandmother, whose home is at Bay View, near a
+beautiful body of water called Henderson Bay, a part of
+Lake Ontario.</p>
+
+<p>She is very happy at Bay View; for, besides grandma,
+there are an uncle and two aunts, who are never too busy
+to swing her in the hammock, out under the maples, or play
+croquet with her on the lawn.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes she drives out with her uncle behind his black
+ponies; and, if the road is smooth and level, he lets Madie
+hold the reins. But she likes better to go with him on the
+water, in his fine sail-boat, "Ildrian," which is a Spanish
+name, and means "fleet as lightning."</p>
+
+<p>When the weather is fine, and the water is calm, her
+aunts take her out rowing in their pretty row-boat, "Echo."
+As they row along by the shore, stopping now and then to
+gather water-lilies, Madie looks at the pretty cottages and
+white tents nestled among the green trees, where the city
+people are spending their summer.</p>
+
+<p>They pass many boats on the way, filled with ladies and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>
+gentlemen, who give them a gay salute; and Madie waves
+her handkerchief in one hand, and her little flag in the other,
+as they go by. Sometimes they go ashore in a shady cove;
+and Aunt Clara fills her basket with ferns and moss, while
+Madie picks up shells and gay-colored stones on the beach.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus169.png" width="500" height="378" alt="Madie waves" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>But these lovely summer-days go by quickly. October
+comes, and with it Madie's mamma, to claim her little girl,
+who is so tanned and rosy, that mamma calls her, "Gypsy,"
+and thinks papa will hardly know his little "sunbeam"
+now.</p>
+
+<p>So Madie kisses everybody "good-by" a great many
+times,&mdash;even the bay-colt in the pasture, and the four
+smutty kittens at the barn,&mdash;and goes back to her own
+home. But, when the sweet June roses bloom again, she
+will go once more to Bay View, which she thinks is the
+nicest place in the world.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Merle Armour.</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_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>WHAT I OVERHEARD.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">One</span> day last summer, at the great Centennial Exhibition
+in Philadelphia, I overheard a conversation that interested
+me very much. The subject of it was a queer little animal
+called a "gopher," which sat stuck up in a case with its
+comical little head perched up in the air; for it wasn't
+even <i>alive</i>, but was a poor little stuffed gopher.</p>
+
+<p>In front of the case I noticed two farmers, who were
+talking about my little friend in a very earnest way: so I
+listened to their remarks.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said one, "I tell you he is a dreadful creature to
+dig. Why, he makes us a sight of trouble out our way!
+can't keep anything that he can dig for, away from him."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that so?" said the other man.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Why, I pay my boys five cents for every one of
+'em they catch; and it's lively work getting 'em, I tell you!
+See his nose, now! doesn't that look sharp? I tell you,
+when that fellow gets hold of a job, he <i>keeps right at it!</i>
+There is no <i>giving up</i> in him."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me!" thought I, "how nice of little gopher! Ugly
+as he is, I quite fall in love with him." And I drew nearer,
+and showed, I suppose, my interest in my face; for the
+speaker turned around, and addressed me.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am, he steals my potatoes, and does lots of
+mischief. Just look at those paws of his! Doesn't he keep
+them busy, though!"</p>
+
+<p>"Are gophers so very industrious, then?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Industrious, ma'am! Well, yes: they've got the <i>work</i>
+in them, that's true; and, if they begin any thing, they'll
+see it through. They don't sit down discouraged, and give
+up; but they keep right on, even when there's no hope.
+Oh, they're brave little fellows!" And the honest old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>
+farmer beamed in admiration upon the stiff, little unconscious
+specimen before us in the case.</p>
+
+<p>"It is very interesting," I said, "to know of such patience
+in a little animal like this."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am," he responded: "you would think so if
+you could see one. Why, <i>working</i> is their <i>life</i>. If they
+couldn't work, they'd die. I know, 'cause I've proved it.
+Once, we caught one, and I put him in a box, and my boys
+and I threw in some sand. The box was considerably
+big, and the little fellow went right to work. He dug, and
+threw it all back of him over to the other side; then back
+of him again, till he went through that sand I don't know
+how many times. Well, he was as lively as a cricket, and,
+to try what he would do, I took away the sand, and 'twas
+but a few hours before he was dead. Yes, dead, ma'am!
+just as dead as this one, here!" pointing with his finger to
+our friend in the case, who preserved a stolid indifference
+to the fate of his gopher-cousin.</p>
+
+<p>I stopped to take a further look at "little gopher," with
+whom I felt pretty well acquainted by this time.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+H. M. S.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
+<h2>BYE-LO-LAND.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">Baby</span> is going to Bye-lo-land,<br />
+Going to see the sights so grand:<br />
+Out of the sky the wee stars peep,<br />
+Watching to see her fast asleep.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Swing so,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Bye-lo!</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>Over the hills to Bye-lo-land.<br />
+<br />
+Oh the bright dreams in Bye-lo-land,<br />
+All by the loving angels planned!<br />
+Soft little lashes downward close,<br />
+Just like the petals of a rose.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Swing so,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Bye-lo!</span><br />
+Prettiest eyes in Bye-lo-land!<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus172.png" width="500" height="339" alt="Rocking baby" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Sweet is the way to Bye-lo-land,<br />
+Guided by mother's gentle hand.<br />
+Little lambs now are in the fold,<br />
+Little birds nestle from the cold.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Swing so,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Bye-lo!</span><br />
+Baby is safe in Bye-lo-land!<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">George Cooper.</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_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 399px;">
+<img src="images/illus173.png" width="399" height="400" alt="THE ENCOUNTER" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>THE ENCOUNTER.</h2>
+
+
+<p><i>Mr. Jones.</i>&mdash;Good-morning, madam. It is a fine day.
+Are you going out for a walk?</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Smith.</i>&mdash;I was just taking my little Aldabella out
+for an airing. Poor child! She has been kept in the house
+so long by the bad weather, that she has lost all her color.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Jones.</i>&mdash;Be careful, and don't let her catch the
+whooping-cough.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Smith.</i>&mdash;O sir! you alarm me. Is it much about?</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Jones.</i>&mdash;Yes, ma'am: so is the measles. I know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>
+two gentlemen who were kept away from their base-ball
+last Saturday afternoon by the measles.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Smith.</i>&mdash;What an affliction! Is that horse of
+yours safe? Does he ever kick?</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Jones.</i>&mdash;I never knew him to kick in my life; but,
+as you see, he is a little restive: he may step on your toes.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Smith.</i>&mdash;Oh, pray hold him in, Mr. Jones! Don't
+let him be so gay.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Jones.</i>&mdash;Madam, my horse seems to be of the
+opinion that we have talked long enough: so I will wish
+you a very good-morning.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Smith.</i>&mdash;Good-morning, Mr. Jones. Pray don't
+run over any little boys in the street.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Jones.</i>&mdash;Little boys must not come in my way.
+Good-by, Mrs. Smith! Good-by, Miss Aldabella!</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
+<h2>JAMIE'S LETTER TO A LITTLE UNCLE.</h2>
+
+
+<p><i>My dear little Uncle</i>,&mdash;You see I have not forgotten
+that long ago you wrote me a letter. My mamma told me
+to-night that she would answer it for me, because something
+happened yesterday that I want you to know.</p>
+
+<p>You remember it was May-day. Mamma said, "Jamie,
+you are too little a boy to go out in the fields and woods
+Maying." That made me feel badly, because the sun was
+shining so brightly, and the grass looked so green, that I was
+sure there were plenty of flowers hidden away in the fields.</p>
+
+<p>So I thought, "What can a little boy do? I am so
+little, I can't walk. I am so little, I can't talk much. I
+can creep, but when I get to a nice bit on the floor and
+put it into my mouth, mamma jumps, and takes it away,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>
+and says, 'No, no, baby!' What can I do? what can I do
+to please everybody?"</p>
+
+<p>At last I thought of something. I was sitting in mamma's
+lap, when, all at once, she called out, "Aunt Fanny, come
+here and put your thimble in the baby's mouth. I'm sure
+that's a tooth." And, sure enough, one little tooth had just
+peeped out. Then everybody said, "Baby has a tooth!"
+I didn't tell them that I went Maying all by myself, and
+found that little tooth; but I tell you as a secret, little uncle.</p>
+
+<p>Dear little uncle, I am growing very big. Next summer
+I can run on the beach with you, and dig in the sand.</p>
+
+<p>Now you must kiss my grandmamma for me; give her a
+kiss on her right eye, her left cheek, her nose, and her lips,
+and whisper in her ear that I love her very much; then
+pull my grandpapa's whiskers, and give him two kisses;
+then give a kiss to all my uncles and aunts, and take one
+for yourself from your little nephew,</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Jamie.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
+<h2>THE DISAPPOINTED KITTY.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 200px;">
+<img src="images/illus175.png" width="200" height="124" alt="Kitty" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> name of my kitten is Breezy.
+I gave her that name because she
+is never quiet. When she cannot
+frolic, she mews; but, as she is
+frolicking all the time when she is
+not asleep, she does not make much of an outcry, after all.</p>
+
+<p>It has been the height of Breezy's ambition to catch a
+mouse. The other day, I was sitting in my little arm-chair,
+studying my spelling-lesson, when what should come forth
+from under the cupboard but a wee mouse not much bigger
+than the bowl of a teaspoon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Breezy, for a wonder, was asleep on the rug. Mousie
+looked around, as if in search of some crumbs. I put down
+my book, and kept very still. Which did I favor in my
+heart,&mdash;Mousie, or Breezy?</p>
+
+<p>To tell the truth, my sympathies were divided. The little
+bright-eyed mouse was so cunning and swift, that I thought
+to myself, "What a pity to kill such a bright little fellow!"
+But then I knew how disappointed poor Breezy would be,
+if she should wake, and learn somehow that a mouse had
+run over the floor while she was indulging in inglorious
+slumber.</p>
+
+<p>Out came mousie quite boldly, and, finding some crumbs
+under the table, nibbled at them in great haste. Poor little
+fellow, if I had had a bit of cheese, I should have been
+tempted to give it to him, there and then.</p>
+
+<p>But, all at once, Breezy woke, and saw what was going on.
+Mousie, however, had not been so stupid, while making his
+meal, as not to keep one eye open on his enemy. Quick as a
+flash he ran for the little crack that led under the cupboard,
+and thus made his escape.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Breezy! She seemed really ashamed of herself.
+She had her nose at that crack a full hour after mousie had
+escaped. It seemed as if she could not get over her disappointment.
+Every day since then she has patiently
+watched the cupboard. Will mousie give her another
+chance? That remains to be seen.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Fanny Everton.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;">
+<img src="images/illus176.png" width="200" height="124" alt="Nose at the crack" 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_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 354px;">
+<img src="images/illus177.png" width="354" height="500" alt="THE MARE AND HER COLT." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE MARE AND HER COLT.</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_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE MARE AND HER COLT.</h2>
+
+<div class='story'>
+<p><span class="smcap">Here</span> is a picture of the
+mare and her colt. The old
+mare is almost white; but the
+colt is jet black. He is a bright
+little fellow, and I am sure that
+his mother is proud of him.</p>
+
+<p>Our Willie likes to stand at
+the bars of the pasture and
+look at the colt. He often
+comes so near that the little
+boy pats him on the head.</p>
+
+<p>Willie has named the colt
+"Frisky," because he is so very
+lively. He is so nimble with
+his heels, that it is not safe for
+a small boy to go very near
+him now; but Willie expects
+to ride him by and by.</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_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
+<img src="images/illus179.png" width="300" height="275" alt="KISSING A SUNBEAM" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>KISSING A SUNBEAM.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">Little</span> Baby Brown-Eyes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sitting on the floor,</span><br />
+Every thing around him<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ready to explore,</span><br />
+Plumpy, dumpy, roly-poly,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pretty Baby Brown-Eyes</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sitting on the floor!</span><br />
+<br />
+Flutters in a sunbeam<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through the open door,</span><br />
+Like a golden butterfly<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Silently before</span><br />
+Plumpy, dumpy, roly-poly,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pretty Baby Brown-Eyes</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sitting on the floor.</span><br />
+<br />
+See his little fingers<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eager for a prize,</span><br />
+And the hungry gladness<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Laughing in his eyes!</span><br />
+Plumpy, dumpy, roly-poly,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pretty Baby Brown-Eyes</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Capturing a prize!</span><br />
+<br />
+Plucking at the sunbeam<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With his finger-tips,</span><br />
+Tenderly he lifts them<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To his rosy lips;</span><br />
+Plumpy, dumpy, roly-poly,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pretty Baby Brown-Eyes</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Kissing the pink tips!</span><br />
+<br />
+Brother of the sunbeam,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With your browny eyes,</span><br />
+Greet your silent sister,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stealing from the skies;</span><br />
+Plumpy, dumpy, roly-poly,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pretty Baby Brown-Eyes</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Kiss her as she flies!</span><br />
+<br />
+Mamma catches sunbeams<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In your laughing eye,</span><br />
+Hiding in your dimples,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Peeping very sly:</span><br />
+Plumpy, dumpy, roly-poly,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pretty Baby Brown-Eyes,</span><br />
+She'll kiss them on the fly!<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">George S. Burleigh.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
+<h2>THE FISHERMAN'S RETURN HOME.</h2>
+
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Father</span> is coming! Father is coming!" was little
+Tim's cry, as he sat at the window of the little house by
+the seashore.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know he is coming?" said mother, who
+was tending the baby, and at the same time trying to sew
+up the seams of a dress for Miss Bella, the second child.</p>
+
+<p>"I know he is coming, because I can see him in his boat,"
+cried Tim. "Hurrah, hurrah! I'll be the first one at the
+landing."</p>
+
+<p>Mamma was by this time satisfied that her husband, Mr.
+Payson, was indeed in sight. He was a fisherman, and had
+been absent, on a trip to the Banks of Newfoundland, more
+than six weeks. There had been many storms during that
+time, and she had passed some anxious moments.</p>
+
+<p>But now there he was before her eyes, safe and sound.
+"Come, Bella," she said, "let us see if we can't get the
+first kiss."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, I'll get it!" cried Tim, starting on the run for
+the landing-place.</p>
+
+<p>Sure enough, Tim got the first kiss; but mother's and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>
+baby's and Bella's soon followed; and so there was no
+complaint.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus181.png" width="500" height="382" alt="Fisherman&#39;s return" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>Mr. Payson had made a prosperous trip. His schooner
+lay off the point, and he had sold his fish at a good profit.</p>
+
+<p>How glad he was to get home, and find his family well!
+Tim brought him his primer, and proudly pointed to the
+pages he could read. Bella showed her first attempts at
+sewing; and, as for baby, she showed how well she could
+crow and frolic.</p>
+
+<p>"I've found the first violet, papa," cried Bella.</p>
+
+<p>"But I saw it first," said Tim.</p>
+
+<p>"And I smelt of it first," said mother.</p>
+
+<p>"And baby pulled it to pieces first," added Bella.</p>
+
+<p>It was a happy meeting; and father and mother agreed
+that to come home and find all the little ones well and
+happy was better even than to sell his fish at a good price.</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_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>THE PUPPY AND THE WASP.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="The Puppy and the wasp">
+<tr><td align='left'><img src="images/illus182a.png" width="200" height="135" alt="I was asleep" title="" />
+</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">As</span> asleep I was lying,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My ear on the ground,</span><br />
+A queer thing came flying<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And humming around.</span><br />
+Humming and coming<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Close to my ear:</span><br />
+Shall I never be quiet?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O dear, and O dear!</span><br />
+</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>You bold little teaser,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now take yourself off;</span><br />
+Of your buzzing and fussing<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I've had quite enough.</span><br />
+You will not? Tormentor,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I mean to rest here,</span><br />
+So mind how you vex me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And come not too near.</span><br />
+</td><td align='left'><img src="images/illus182b.png" width="210" height="225" alt="Do not come too near" title="" />
+</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><img src="images/illus182c.png" width="250" height="160" alt="With my paw uplifted" title="" />
+</td><td align='left'>You dare to defy me?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You come all the bolder?</span><br />
+I'll punish you, rash one,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ere I'm a breath older.</span><br />
+With my big paw uplifted<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'll crush you to dust:</span><br />
+Shoo! What a dodger!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Leave me&mdash;you must!</span><br />
+</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>I'll bite you, I'll kill you,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I snap and I spring:</span><br />
+If I only could catch you,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You rude saucy thing!</span><br />
+If you were not so little,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So cunning and spry,</span><br />
+I'd punish you quickly,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pert wretch! you should die.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span><br /></td><td align='left'><img src="images/illus182d.png" width="219" height="225" alt="I&#39;ll bite you" title="" />
+</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><img src="images/illus183a.png" width="250" height="167" alt="Oh, woe!" title="" />
+</td><td align='left'>It darts quick as lightning,&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O woe, and O woe!</span><br />
+On the nose it has stung me:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O, it burns and smarts so!</span><br />
+It pains like a needle,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It gives me no rest;</span><br />
+Oh, the wasp is a creature<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I hate and detest.</span><br />
+</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>He knows he has hurt me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Away now he darts;</span><br />
+Oh, poor little puppy!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It smarts and it smarts!</span><br />
+To think such an insect<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Should worry a dog!</span><br />
+He could not have hurt me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If I'd been a log!</span><br />
+</td><td align='left'><img src="images/illus183b.png" width="174" height="200" alt="Poor little puppy" title="" />
+</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
+<h2>MORE ABOUT CRICKETS.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">We</span> keep crickets in a box, and find them very interesting.
+They are very active, and occupy themselves in
+laying eggs, digging holes, eating, singing, and running.
+Only the males sing, and their wings are very rough, and
+curiously marked.</p>
+
+<p>Crickets have four different kinds of wings,&mdash;yellow,
+brown, black, and brownish-red. Those that have yellow
+wings seem to be less hardy than the others. They do not
+sing so well, but lay and eat more.</p>
+
+<p>The brown-winged crickets are quite common, but not so
+common as the black-winged, which are the most common
+of all kinds. Brownish-red crickets are very rare. Those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>
+that are black with yellow spots where the wings come out,
+sing the best.</p>
+
+<p>The eggs are yellow, about an eighth of an inch long, and
+of an oval shape.</p>
+
+<p>When we were in Lynn, a very handsome yellow-winged
+singer came into the box, and ate three crickets. We put
+him in another box with his mate, which he brought with
+him. In the same box were a large female, and a common
+sized white-winged cricket, both of which he ate.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
+<img src="images/illus184.png" width="300" height="197" alt="Crickets" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>Afterwards we found in his place a black-winged singer,
+somewhat smaller than the yellow-winged one was; but his
+mate remained the same as before.</p>
+
+<p>Some spiders make holes in the ground, and, when the
+crickets go into them, the spiders eat them.</p>
+
+<p>The male crickets fight with each other, singing all the
+while; and the one that beats sings on, all the louder.</p>
+
+<p>There is another kind of cricket that is a great deal
+smaller, and sings much longer, in an undertone. Its
+wings are always yellow or brown; but we do not know
+much about crickets of this kind, except that their habits
+are similar to those of the large ones, and that they are
+very numerous.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Herbert and Ella Lyman.</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_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus185.png" width="500" height="315" alt="Fifth Lesson in Astronomy" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>FIFTH LESSON IN ASTRONOMY.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='poem'>
+"A little boy was dreaming,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon his nurse's lap,</span><br />
+That the pins fell out of all the stars,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the stars fell into his cap.</span><br />
+<br />
+So, when his dream was over,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What should that little boy do?</span><br />
+Why, he went and looked inside his cap&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And found it wasn't true."</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">If</span> that little boy had been wide awake, and out of doors,
+with his cap on his head, instead of dreaming in his nurse's
+lap, don't you think he might really have seen a star
+fall out of the sky? Haven't you all seen one many a
+time?</p>
+
+<p>But you would never dream that those blazing suns, the
+stars, are pinned into the sky, and that they might tumble
+into your cap if the pins fell out. You know better than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>
+that; but do you know what does happen when a star
+falls?</p>
+
+<p>We say, "A star falls," because what we see falling looks
+to us like a star; but it really is no more like a star than a
+lump of coal. If we should see a piece of blazing coal
+falling through the air, we might be foolish enough to think
+that, too, was a star. And what we call a shooting star is,
+perhaps, more like a lump of coal on fire than like any thing
+else you know of.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes these shooting stars fall to the ground, and are
+picked up and found to be rocks. How do you suppose
+they take fire? It is by striking against the air which is
+around our earth. They come from nobody knows where,
+and are no more on fire than any rock is, until they fall into
+our air; and that sets them blazing, just as a match lights
+when you rub it against something.</p>
+
+<p>These meteors, as they are called, do not often fall to the
+ground; only the very large ones last until they reach
+the earth; most of them burn up on their way down. I
+think that is lucky, because they might at any time fall into
+some little boy's cap and spoil it, and might even fall on his
+head, if they were in the habit of falling anywhere.</p>
+
+<p>That little boy who thought the stars were only pinned
+in their places must have felt very uneasy. I don't wonder
+that he dreamed about them.</p>
+
+<p>Once in a great while, a shower of meteors rains down
+upon the earth; and sometimes many of them can be seen
+falling from the sky, and burning up in the air.</p>
+
+<p>The fall of the year is the best time for meteors; but you
+will be pretty sure to see one any evening you choose to
+look for it, and, perhaps, on the Fourth of July one of them
+will celebrate the day by bursting like a rocket, as they
+sometimes do.</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>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus187.png" width="500" height="277" alt="June" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>JUNE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">The</span> pretty flowers have come again,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The roses and the daisies;</span><br />
+And from the trees, oh, hear how plain<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The birds are singing praises!</span><br />
+<br />
+The grass is fresh and green once more;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sky is clear and sunny;</span><br />
+And bees are laying in a store<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of pure and golden honey.</span><br />
+<br />
+The little modest buttercup,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The dandelion splendid,</span><br />
+Their heads are bravely holding up,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now winter's reign is ended.</span><br />
+<br />
+How charming now our walks will be<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By meadows full of clover,</span><br />
+Through shady lanes, where we can see<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The branches bending over!</span><br />
+<br />
+The flowers are blooming fresh and bright<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In just the same old places,</span><br />
+And oh, it fills me with delight<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see their charming faces.</span><br />
+<br />
+The air is sweet, the sky is blue,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The woods with songs are ringing;</span><br />
+And I'm so happy, that I, too,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Can hardly keep from singing.</span><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>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
+<img src="images/illus188.png" width="300" height="228" alt="Decoration" title="" />
+</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, June 1877, Vol. XXI. No. 6, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, JUNE 1877 ***
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author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 02:37:30 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 02:37:30 -0700
commit	f7560b9863f7d5193ecd9c0bd9a5f46fc1785b4d (patch)
tree	eb85b1e7871dfa52b9950b4e24bc9af4d96ae325 /28134-h