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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/28134-h.zip b/28134-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1268d85 --- /dev/null +++ b/28134-h.zip diff --git a/28134-h/28134-h.htm b/28134-h/28134-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..93d9309 --- /dev/null +++ b/28134-h/28134-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1597 @@ +<!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, June 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; + } + .story {font-size: 200%; margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em;} + + 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;} + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<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.—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 </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 </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'S NEW SLOOP." title="" /> +<span class="caption">ARTHUR'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.—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'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—<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—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,—even the bay-colt in the pasture, and the four +smutty kittens at the barn,—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>—Good-morning, madam. It is a fine day. +Are you going out for a walk?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Smith.</i>—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>—Be careful, and don't let her catch the +whooping-cough.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Smith.</i>—O sir! you alarm me. Is it much about?</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Jones.</i>—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>—What an affliction! Is that horse of +yours safe? Does he ever kick?</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Jones.</i>—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>—Oh, pray hold him in, Mr. Jones! Don't +let him be so gay.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Jones.</i>—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>—Good-morning, Mr. Jones. Pray don't +run over any little boys in the street.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Jones.</i>—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>,—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,—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'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—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'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,—<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,—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—<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 *** + +***** This file should be named 28134-h.htm or 28134-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/1/3/28134/ + +Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. + + +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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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: ASCII + +*** 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. + + + + + + + +THE + +NURSERY + + +_A Monthly Magazine_ + +FOR YOUNGEST READERS. + +VOLUME XXI.--No. 6. + + 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. + + Arthur's New Sloop 161 + A True Story 164 + Playing Soldier 167 + Madie's Visit at Grandma's 168 + What I overheard 170 + The Encounter 173 + Jamie's Letter to a Little Uncle 174 + The Disappointed Kitty 175 + The Mare and her Colt 177 + The Fisherman's Return 180 + More about Crickets 183 + Fifth Lesson in Astronomy 185 + + +IN VERSE. + + Tot's Turnover 163 + The Kingfisher 166 + Bye-Lo-Land 171 + Kissing a Sunbeam 179 + The Puppy and the Wasp 182 + June 187 + +[Illustration: Birds] + + + + +[Illustration: ARTHUR'S NEW SLOOP.] + + + + + +ARTHUR'S NEW SLOOP. + + +"[Illustration: N]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?" + +"I should take in all sail, and scud under bare poles," said Arthur. + +"But what if you did not want to be blown ashore?" + +"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." + +"Well, that's pretty well said, though not just as a sailor would say +it. Look here, Henry, where is the stern?" + +"You have your left hand on it, sir." + +"That's true. And where's the rudder?" + +"Your little finger is resting on it." + +"What sort of a craft do you call this?" + +"I call it a sloop; for it has but one mast." + +"If you were holding the tiller, and I were to say, 'Larboard' or +'port,' what should you do?" + +"If I stood looking forward, I should move the tiller to the left side +of the vessel." + +"That's right; and, if I said 'Starboard,' you would move the tiller to +the right side.--Now, boys, which of you can tell me the difference +between a tiller and a helm?" + +"I always thought," said Arthur, "that they meant pretty much the same +thing." + +"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." + +"Yes, now I understand," said Arthur. "How jolly it is to have an Uncle +Martin to explain things!" + +"You rogue, you expect me to be at the launch, eh?" + +"Yes, uncle: I've got a bottle of hard cider to smash, on the occasion. +It ought to be rum, by the old rule." + +"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?" + +"Ah! that you will hear at the launch," said Arthur. + +"It's the 'Artful Dodger,'" whispered brother Henry. + + ALFRED SELWYN. + +[Illustration] + + + + +TOT'S TURNOVER. + + + SUGARED and scalloped and cut as you see, + With juicy red wreath and name, T-O-T, + This is the turnover dear little Tot + Set in the window there all piping hot: + Proud of her work, she has left it to cool: + Benny must share it when he's out of school. + Scenting its flavor, Prince happens that way, + Wonders if Tot will give him some to-day. + Benny is coming, he's now at the gate-- + Prince for himself decides not to wait. + Oh, pity! 'tis gone, and here you and I + See the last that Tot saw of that pretty pie. + + M. A. C. + + + + +A TRUE STORY. + + +ONCE, 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? + +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. + +One night there came a terrible storm of wind and rain. When I awoke in +the morning, and opened my window, 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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +One day I looked in the pail, and it was empty. The birdies had grown +up, and had flown away. + + HANNAH PAULDING. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE KINGFISHER. + + + WHERE the white lilies quiver + By the sedge in the river, + I fly in and out, + I hunt all about; + For I am the daring kingfisher, + kingfisher! + + Rod and line have not I, + But, a fish when I spy, + From the tree-top I start, + And down, down, I dart; + For I am the daring kingfisher, kingfisher! + + My dinner I make, + My pleasure I take, + And the fish must be quick + That would parry my trick; + For I am the daring kingfisher, kingfisher! + + Now summer is near, + And the boys will be here; + But I fly or I run, + When I look on a gun, + Tho' I am the daring kingfisher, kingfisher! + + EMILY CARTER. + +[Illustration] + + + + +PLAYING SOLDIER. + + +LITTLE 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. + +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. + +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. + +"Forward march!" shouted our little captain again; and her soldier +marched forward with a quick step. + +"Halt!" cried she after he had marched back; and he stopped at once. + +"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--and the +play was over. + + M. + + + + +MADIE'S VISIT AT GRANDMA'S. + + +MADIE 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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +They pass many boats on the way, filled with ladies and 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. + +[Illustration] + +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. + +So Madie kisses everybody "good-by" a great many times,--even the +bay-colt in the pasture, and the four smutty kittens at the barn,--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. + + MERLE ARMOUR. + + + + +WHAT I OVERHEARD. + + +ONE 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 _alive_, but was a poor little stuffed gopher. + +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. + +"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." + +"Is that so?" said the other man. + +"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 +_keeps right at it_! There is no _giving up_ in him." + +"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. + +"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!" + +"Are gophers so very industrious, then?" I asked. + +"Industrious, ma'am! Well, yes: they've got the _work_ 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 +farmer beamed in admiration upon the stiff, little unconscious specimen +before us in the case. + +"It is very interesting," I said, "to know of such patience in a little +animal like this." + +"Yes, ma'am," he responded: "you would think so if you could see one. +Why, _working_ is their _life_. 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. + +I stopped to take a further look at "little gopher," with whom I felt +pretty well acquainted by this time. + + H. M. S. + +[Illustration] + + + + +BYE-LO-LAND. + + + BABY is going to Bye-lo-land, + Going to see the sights so grand: + Out of the sky the wee stars peep, + Watching to see her fast asleep. + Swing so, + Bye-lo! + Over the hills to Bye-lo-land. + + Oh the bright dreams in Bye-lo-land, + All by the loving angels planned! + Soft little lashes downward close, + Just like the petals of a rose. + Swing so, + Bye-lo! + Prettiest eyes in Bye-lo-land! + +[Illustration] + + Sweet is the way to Bye-lo-land, + Guided by mother's gentle hand. + Little lambs now are in the fold, + Little birds nestle from the cold. + Swing so, + Bye-lo! + Baby is safe in Bye-lo-land! + + GEORGE COOPER. + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE ENCOUNTER. + + +_Mr. Jones._--Good-morning, madam. It is a fine day. Are you going out +for a walk? + +_Mrs. Smith._--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. + +_Mr. Jones._--Be careful, and don't let her catch the whooping-cough. + +_Mrs. Smith._--O sir! you alarm me. Is it much about? + +_Mr. Jones._--Yes, ma'am: so is the measles. I know two gentlemen who +were kept away from their base-ball last Saturday afternoon by the +measles. + +_Mrs. Smith._--What an affliction! Is that horse of yours safe? Does he +ever kick? + +_Mr. Jones._--I never knew him to kick in my life; but, as you see, he +is a little restive: he may step on your toes. + +_Mrs. Smith._--Oh, pray hold him in, Mr. Jones! Don't let him be so gay. + +_Mr. Jones._--Madam, my horse seems to be of the opinion that we have +talked long enough: so I will wish you a very good-morning. + +_Mrs. Smith._--Good-morning, Mr. Jones. Pray don't run over any little +boys in the street. + +_Mr. Jones._--Little boys must not come in my way. Good-by, Mrs. Smith! +Good-by, Miss Aldabella! + + + + +JAMIE'S LETTER TO A LITTLE UNCLE. + + +_My dear little Uncle_,--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. + +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. + +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, and says, 'No, no, baby!' What can I do? what can I do to please +everybody?" + +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. + +Dear little uncle, I am growing very big. Next summer I can run on the +beach with you, and dig in the sand. + +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, + + JAMIE. + + + + +THE DISAPPOINTED KITTY. + + +[Illustration] + +THE 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. + +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. + +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,--Mousie, or Breezy? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + FANNY EVERTON. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration: THE MARE AND HER COLT. + +V. XXI.--NO. 6.] + + + + +THE MARE AND HER COLT. + + +HERE 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. + +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. + +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. + + A. B. C. + +[Illustration] + + + + +KISSING A SUNBEAM. + + + LITTLE Baby Brown-Eyes + Sitting on the floor, + Every thing around him + Ready to explore, + Plumpy, dumpy, roly-poly, + Pretty Baby Brown-Eyes + Sitting on the floor! + + Flutters in a sunbeam + Through the open door, + Like a golden butterfly + Silently before + Plumpy, dumpy, roly-poly, + Pretty Baby Brown-Eyes + Sitting on the floor. + + See his little fingers + Eager for a prize, + And the hungry gladness + Laughing in his eyes! + Plumpy, dumpy, roly-poly, + Pretty Baby Brown-Eyes + Capturing a prize! + + Plucking at the sunbeam + With his finger-tips, + Tenderly he lifts them + To his rosy lips; + Plumpy, dumpy, roly-poly, + Pretty Baby Brown-Eyes + Kissing the pink tips! + + Brother of the sunbeam, + With your browny eyes, + Greet your silent sister, + Stealing from the skies; + Plumpy, dumpy, roly-poly, + Pretty Baby Brown-Eyes + Kiss her as she flies! + + Mamma catches sunbeams + In your laughing eye, + Hiding in your dimples, + Peeping very sly: + Plumpy, dumpy, roly-poly, + Pretty Baby Brown-Eyes, + She'll kiss them on the fly! + + GEORGE S. BURLEIGH. + + + + +THE FISHERMAN'S RETURN HOME. + + +"FATHER is coming! Father is coming!" was little Tim's cry, as he sat at +the window of the little house by the seashore. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +"No, no, I'll get it!" cried Tim, starting on the run for the +landing-place. + +Sure enough, Tim got the first kiss; but mother's and baby's and +Bella's soon followed; and so there was no complaint. + +[Illustration] + +Mr. Payson had made a prosperous trip. His schooner lay off the point, +and he had sold his fish at a good profit. + +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. + +"I've found the first violet, papa," cried Bella. + +"But I saw it first," said Tim. + +"And I smelt of it first," said mother. + +"And baby pulled it to pieces first," added Bella. + +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. + + UNCLE CHARLES. + + + + +THE PUPPY AND THE WASP. + + +[Illustration] + + AS asleep I was lying, + My ear on the ground, + A queer thing came flying + And humming around. + Humming and coming + Close to my ear: + Shall I never be quiet? + O dear, and O dear! + +[Illustration] + + You bold little teaser, + Now take yourself off; + Of your buzzing and fussing + I've had quite enough. + You will not? Tormentor, + I mean to rest here, + So mind how you vex me, + And come not too near. + +[Illustration] + + You dare to defy me? + You come all the bolder? + I'll punish you, rash one, + Ere I'm a breath older. + With my big paw uplifted + I'll crush you to dust: + Shoo! What a dodger! + Leave me--you must! + +[Illustration] + + I'll bite you, I'll kill you, + I snap and I spring: + If I only could catch you, + You rude saucy thing! + If you were not so little, + So cunning and spry, + I'd punish you quickly, + Pert wretch! you should die. + +[Illustration] + + It darts quick as lightning,-- + O woe, and O woe! + On the nose it has stung me: + O, it burns and smarts so! + It pains like a needle, + It gives me no rest; + Oh, the wasp is a creature + I hate and detest. + +[Illustration] + + He knows he has hurt me, + Away now he darts; + Oh, poor little puppy! + It smarts and it smarts! + To think such an insect + Should worry a dog! + He could not have hurt me, + If I'd been a log! + + + + +MORE ABOUT CRICKETS. + + +WE 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. + +Crickets have four different kinds of wings,--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. + +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 that are black with yellow spots where +the wings come out, sing the best. + +The eggs are yellow, about an eighth of an inch long, and of an oval +shape. + +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. + +[Illustration] + +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. + +Some spiders make holes in the ground, and, when the crickets go into +them, the spiders eat them. + +The male crickets fight with each other, singing all the while; and the +one that beats sings on, all the louder. + +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. + + HERBERT AND ELLA LYMAN. + +[Illustration] + + + + +FIFTH LESSON IN ASTRONOMY. + + + "A little boy was dreaming, + Upon his nurse's lap, + That the pins fell out of all the stars, + And the stars fell into his cap. + + So, when his dream was over, + What should that little boy do? + Why, he went and looked inside his cap-- + And found it wasn't true." + +IF 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? + +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 that; but do you know what does happen when a +star falls? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + M. E. R. + +[Illustration] + + + + +JUNE. + + + THE pretty flowers have come again, + The roses and the daisies; + And from the trees, oh, hear how plain + The birds are singing praises! + + The grass is fresh and green once more; + The sky is clear and sunny; + And bees are laying in a store + Of pure and golden honey. + + The little modest buttercup, + The dandelion splendid, + Their heads are bravely holding up, + Now winter's reign is ended. + + How charming now our walks will be + By meadows full of clover, + Through shady lanes, where we can see + The branches bending over! + + The flowers are blooming fresh and bright + In just the same old places, + And oh, it fills me with delight + To see their charming faces. + + The air is sweet, the sky is blue, + The woods with songs are ringing; + And I'm so happy, that I, too, + Can hardly keep from singing. + + JOSEPHINE POLLARD. + +[Illustration] + + + * * * * * + +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, June 1877, Vol. XXI. No. 6, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, JUNE 1877 *** + +***** This file should be named 28134.txt or 28134.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/1/3/28134/ + +Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. + + +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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