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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/28136-h.zip b/28136-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..99e3e00 --- /dev/null +++ b/28136-h.zip diff --git a/28136-h/28136-h.htm b/28136-h/28136-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca8b44f --- /dev/null +++ b/28136-h/28136-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1650 @@ +<!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, August 1877, Vol. XXII., by Various. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + table.bee {width: 500px; text-align: center; background-image: + url("images/illus036.png"); background-repeat: no-repeat;} + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + .copyright {text-align: center; font-size: 70%;} + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold; font-size: 70%;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .poem2 {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} + .story {font-size: 200%; margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Nursery, August 1877, Vol. Vol. XXII, No. 2, 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, August 1877, Vol. XXII, No. 2 + A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 20, 2009 [EBook #28136] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, AUGUST 1877 *** + + + + +Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. Music +by Linda Cantoni. + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<h3>THE</h3> + +<h1>NURSERY</h1> + +<h2><i>A Monthly Magazine</i></h2> + +<h2><span class="smcap">For Youngest Readers.</span></h2> + +<div class='center'>VOLUME XXII.—No. 2.<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> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<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'> </td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Day at the Beach</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Buttercup and Daisy</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Aunt Mary's Bullfinch</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The poor Man's Well</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Spitfire</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Drawing-Lesson</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"Great I and little you" </td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Our Dog Tasso</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>My Pets</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Drilling the Troops</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Picture-Book</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_60">60</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'> </td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bumble-Bee</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>King Drake</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Cosset-Calf</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Primer and Slate</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Making Cheeses</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Blacksmith's Song</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Madam Quack (<i>with music</i>) </td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_64">64</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_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus033.png" width="500" height="349" alt="VOL. XXII.—NO. 2." title="" /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>A DAY AT THE BEACH.</h2> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 106px;"> +<img src="images/illus034.png" width="106" height="125" alt="T" title="" /> +</div><div class='unindent'><br /><br />HERE are few of the little readers of "The +Nursery" who could not tell of pleasant days +spent among green fields and woods, or on the +seashore. But in almost every large city, there +are many children who have never been out of +sight of brick walls.</div> + +<p>Their homes are in close rooms in narrow streets, and +there they live from one year's end to the other. In winter +they are often pinched with cold. In summer they suffer +even more from the heat. You may see them at windows +and doors, or on hot sidewalks, trying to get a breath of +fresh air. It is not pure air, but the best they can get.</p> + +<p>What I am going to tell you is about two of those poor +children. One is a little girl, nine years old, whom we will +call Jane. The other, who is only eight years old, is her +brother George.</p> + +<p>Both children go to a Sunday school, and have for their +teacher a kind lady, who takes great interest in them. One +warm summer day, to their great delight, this lady, whom +we will name Miss White, called for them to go with her on +a trip to the seashore.</p> + +<p>Dressed in the best clothes they could muster, they were +soon on board the steamboat. Here every thing was new +to them. As the boat steamed down the harbor, it would +have been joy to anybody only to watch the happy expression +on their faces.</p> + +<p>By and by the boat neared the land; and there the +children saw a wonderful sight. What do you suppose it +was? It was a cow quietly feeding on the shore. They +had never seen a cow before.</p> + +<p>Then Jane got sight of an apple-tree, and George spied a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +man raking hay. Here was another new sensation. While +they were feasting their eyes on green fields, and inhaling +the sweet country air, the boat stopped at the wharf.</p> + +<p>A few steps brought them to the beach; and there, +stretched before them, was the great wide ocean, with the +surf rolling in, and a cool sea-breeze blowing. Then their +joy knew no bounds. Miss White did not try to restrain +them; for she meant to give them at least one day of +perfect freedom.</p> + +<p>So they roamed at will. How they dug wells in the +sand, how they flung stones into the water, how they picked +up shells and sea-weed, how they scrambled over the rocks, +it would take too much space to tell.</p> + +<p>When they were well tired out, and began to be hungry, +Miss White opened a luncheon-box in a shady place among +the rocks, and gave them such a dinner as they had never +had before. Then their bliss was complete.</p> + +<p>The day passed away almost too quickly, and the time +came to go back to the city. That seemed rather hard to +Jane and George. But they have the promise of another +excursion before the summer is over.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Jane Oliver.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/illus035.png" width="350" height="270" alt="Ships at sea" 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_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> + + + + + +<h2>BUMBLE-BEE.</h2> +<div class='center'> <table class="bee" summary="Bumble-bee"> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">The</span> smartest of dandies is young Mr. Bee,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who is known by the name of Bumble;</span><br /> +His life is a short one, but merry and free:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They're mistaken who call him "Humble."</span><br /> +Clad in black velvet, with trimmings of yellow,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He knows well enough he's a fine-looking fellow;</span><br /> +And, hiding away a sharp little dagger,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He dashes about with a confident swagger,</span><br /> +While to show he's at ease, and to tell of his coming,<br /> +A tune he is always carelessly humming.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eating or drinking, or looking for pleasure</span><br /> +Fit for the tastes of a person of leisure,<br /> +Down where the meadow is sunny and breezy,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the red clover, he takes the world easy;</span><br /> +Or, feeling the need of a little diversion,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He makes to the garden a pleasant excursion,</span><br /> +And into a lily or hollyhock dodging<br /></div></td></tr></table></div> +<div class='poem'> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With quiet assurance he takes up his lodging.</span><br /> +With a snug little fortune invested in honey,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Young Bumble Bee lives like a prince, on his money,</span><br /> +And, scorning some plodding relations of his, he<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Leaves hard labor to them,—his cousins named "Busy."</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">D. B. Barnard.</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_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus037.png" width="500" height="377" alt="Buttercup and Daisy" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<h2>BUTTERCUP AND DAISY.</h2> + + +<p><i>Dear little Readers of "The Nursery:"</i>—I would like to +tell you a story about my little brother Clinton and myself. +We each have a nice little calf down at our grandpa's farm +in the country. One is a pure Alderney, grandpa says, and +is of a beautiful fawn color: the other is red and white. +Grandpa let us name them: so we called them Buttercup +and Daisy. Clinton's is Buttercup, and mine is Daisy.</p> + +<p>They are both very kind and gentle. Both have cunning +little horns, just coming out of their heads; but they do not +hook little brother or me. In the picture you will see them +eating corn out of our hands.</p> + +<p>At first we were afraid of their damp noses and rough +tongues; but we soon got over that, and now feed them +every time we go to the farm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>Papa tried to have the little Alderney give us a ride on +its back; but, as soon as we were well on, the calf kicked up +its heels and ran away, saying, "Bah!" and leaving brother +and me on our backs on the soft turf. We were not hurt +at all, but had a good laugh.</p> + +<p>Buttercup soon came back for more corn; and uncle said, +"Give it to her in the ear;" but I said I thought her mouth +was the best place to put it in. Then uncle laughed, and +said that was a joke. Do you know what he meant?</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Harry C. Mather.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>AUNT MARY'S BULLFINCH.</h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Now</span> be sure and not frighten it, children," said Aunt +Mary as she left the room.</p> + +<p>John and Lucy lifted the handkerchief from the cage, +while Paul and Richard, with anxious eyes, stood by to get +a sight of the piping bullfinch, of which they had heard so +much.</p> + +<p>This little bird had been presented to Aunt Mary by a +German lady to whom she had been kind. It could whistle +two or three tunes in a way to surprise all hearers. While +the children were looking at it, it began to pipe.</p> + +<p>"I know that tune," cried Richard. "It is 'Coming +through the rye!'"</p> + +<p>"And now the tune changes to 'Merrily every bosom +boundeth,'" said Lucy. "What a wonderful little bird!"</p> + +<p>"But how did it learn to whistle these tunes?" asked +Paul.</p> + +<p>Aunt Mary, coming in at that moment, explained to the +children that in some of the small towns of Germany are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +persons who teach these little birds. It takes about a year +for a bullfinch to learn a tune. But some of them learn +more quickly than others: so it is with some children.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 336px;"> +<img src="images/illus039.png" width="336" height="400" alt="Looking at the bullfinch" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The birds are at first kept in a dark room; and when +they are fed, a tune is played or whistled. They associate +this tune with the act of feeding; and gradually seem to +find out what is wanted of them.</p> + +<p>The price of a bird that can pipe a tune in good style is +from fifty to one hundred dollars. A good deal of time and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +trouble has to be spent in teaching the birds. Sometimes a +child is employed to play a tune on a little hand-organ; and +this the little bird learns after hearing it many times.</p> + +<p>When the bullfinch learns well, he is praised and petted, +and this he seems to enjoy very much. Even birds, you +see, like to be praised and petted.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Dora Burnside.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>KING DRAKE.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +"<span class="smcap">I'm</span> king of the rock," said a silly old drake;<br /> +"And no one must dare my claim to partake.<br /> +I shall punish severely whoever comes near<br /> +Without my permission: let all the world hear!"<br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 260px;"> +<img src="images/illus040.png" width="260" height="300" alt="King Drake" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class='poem'> +But out of the water, on the rock as he stands,<br /> +Comes up, as if praying, what seemed like two hands.<br /> +"Ah! here is a subject already for me!<br /> +Come, my son, and fear nothing, I'll spare you," said he.<br /> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 274px;"> +<img src="images/illus041a.png" width="274" height="300" alt="Drake sees lobster" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class='poem'> +But his majesty starts as if from a shock,<br /> +When he sees a big lobster make a bow on the rock.<br /> +"That is well," said the king; "but consider, my son,<br /> +This rock is my throne, and is only for one."<br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus041b.png" width="300" height="281" alt="Go, pigmy!" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +The lobster, however, is slow to obey;<br /> +He spreads himself out; he will not go away.<br /> +"Are you deaf?" cries King Drake, "go, pigmy! Get down!<br /> +How dare you thus brave a drake of renown?"<br /> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus042a.png" width="300" height="189" alt="Lobster nips King Drake" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class='poem'> +But the lobster, at this, nips King Drake in the leg.<br /> +"Oh, loosen your claw! Let go! Oh! I beg."<br /> +Tighter pinches the claw: "Rebellion! help! hear!<br /> +King Drake is in trouble: is nobody near?"<br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 297px;"> +<img src="images/illus042b.png" width="297" height="250" alt="In vain are his kicks" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class='poem'> +In vain are his kicks; his cries are in vain:<br /> +The lobster clings fast, in spite of the pain;<br /> +Nor lets go his hold till they get to the bank:<br /> +Then the king waddles home, giving up throne and rank.<br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">From the German.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 304px;"> +<img src="images/illus042c.png" width="304" height="250" alt="The King waddles home" 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_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>THE POOR MAN'S WELL.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Among</span> the Azores, is situated the beautiful Island of +Fayal, with its orange-groves and profusion of flowers. +But, notwithstanding the fruit and flowers, there is one +thing which Americans who live there miss sadly, and that +is fresh, cool water. There are no lakes or ponds, such +as we have here; and so the people have to use rain-water, +which they save in large tanks or cisterns.</p> + +<p>There are a few wells on the island, which, as the water +rises and falls in them twice in every twenty-four hours, +are called "tide-wells." But there was a time, many years +ago, when the people had neither cisterns nor wells, and +were obliged to get water from hollows in the rocks. And +this is the story of the first well.</p> + +<p>The year 1699 was a year when scarcely any rain fell. +The grain did not grow, the cows and sheep died from thirst, +and many of the poor people also. Now there was a very +rich man on the island, who had come here to live many +years before, from another part of the world.</p> + +<p>Though he was so rich, and might have done much good +with his money, he was so stingy and so hard, that the +people did not love him at all. But his bags of silver and +gold did not buy him water; and at last the thought came +to him, "Why! I will dig a well, as people used to do in +my country. I will dig it on my own land, and no one +shall have a drop of the water but myself."</p> + +<p>So he hired men to come and dig the well; but he paid +them only a little money, and was very unkind to them. +They dug and they dug; but no water came. At last they +said they would work no longer unless their master would +promise them some of the water, and he promised them the +use of the well for half of every day.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus044.png" width="500" height="377" alt="Lower and lower in the well" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Now they dug with more patience; and one morning, as +early as six o'clock, they suddenly found water. They +claimed the privilege of using the well for the first six +hours; and the master dared not refuse. As they were +drawing the water, they noticed that it began to grow +lower and lower in the well; and at twelve o'clock, the +master's hour, none was left.</p> + +<p>He was very, very angry, and said he would never give +the men any work again. However, at six o'clock that +night, they again demanded the use of the well. He +mockingly asked them if they expected the water would +come for them, and not for him. Nevertheless they went +to the well; and, to the master's awe and wonder, it was +full of water.</p> + +<p>At midnight, the master again tried to get water from +the well, and, as before, found it empty. He now felt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +afraid, believing that some divine power controlled the +action of the water. He went to the church and vowed, +before God, that if the water should come again next +morning, he would dedicate it to the poor forever.</p> + +<p>In the morning, when the men visited the well, there +was the fresh water awaiting them. The master kept his +vow, and thus the well became "The Poor Man's Well." +To this day the water rises and falls in it twice in every +twenty-four hours. I give you here a picture of the well, +and should you ever go to Fayal you may see the original.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +K. H. S.<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: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus045.png" width="500" height="299" alt="Spitfire" title="" /> +</div> + + + + + + +<p><span class="smcap">Can</span> you guess what she was? She was a little black +kitten; and I must tell you all about her, and why we gave +her such a funny name. Teddikins had a great mouse-colored +cat called Maltie, and she had three little kitties,—Spitfire, +Miss Tittens, and Cuddle. Spitfire was all black, +just as black as a lump of coal, while Miss Tittens was gray, +and Cuddle was gray and white.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>The first time Teddikins and I looked into the box where +Maltie and her kitties were, they were very, very little, and +their eyes were not open. The black kitty was lying on top +of the others; and Teddikins put in his little fat hand and +picked her up. What do you suppose she did? She said, +"<i>Sptss!</i>" and she kept on saying, "<i>Sptss</i>" until Teddikins +put her down again; and so we called her Spitfire.</p> + +<p>Just as soon as she could see out of her funny little gray +eyes, she began to try to get out of the box. She wanted +to see what there was outside, where Maltie went. She +would climb up a little way, and then tumble back on Miss +Tittens and Cuddle, which would make them say, "Mew," +and make Teddikins laugh; but Spitfire always said, "<i>Sptss!</i>" +and would try again.</p> + +<p>At last, one day we heard a thump; and we looked +around, and there was Spitfire on the floor. She had +climbed to the top of the box, and tumbled over the edge, +and there she stood, with her tail straight in the air, and +her legs wide apart, looking at us, and saying, "<i>Sptss!</i>"</p> + +<p>Maltie was very proud of her kitties, and used to take +Cuddle and Miss Tittens in her mouth, and carry them into +the dining-room when we were eating our breakfast, to +show them to us. But Spitfire would not let her mamma +carry her. She would walk in all alone, tumbling over on +her little nose very often (for her legs were not yet strong), +but carrying her little black tail just as straight as little +boys carry sticks when they call them guns.</p> + +<p>One morning, Teddikins put a saucer of milk on the floor +and what do you suppose that little Spitfire did? Why, +she looked at it very hard, and then she said, "<i>Sptss</i>," and +walked right into the milk, and out the other side of the +saucer, with Tittens and Cuddle after her. The floor was +covered with the funny white prints of their little paws.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>One day a mouse ran across the kitchen; and Cuddle and +Tittens were very much frightened; but Spitfire humped +up her back, and made her tail very big, and said "<i>Sptss!</i>" +very hard, and then cantered off sideways staring at the +mouse, and saying, "<i>Sptss!</i>" all the time.</p> + +<p>You know how kitties like to go to sleep, all cuddled up +together. But Spitfire would not lie down with the others: +she always tried to get on top of them.</p> + +<p>When the little kitties were quite strong, they used to +play a funny sort of game. There was a round foot-stool, +covered with carpet, and Spitfire used to sit up on it, and +then Cuddle and Miss Tittens would try to climb up the +sides. Then Spitfire would say, "<i>Sptss!</i>" and pat them on +the heads with her little paws until they rolled down again. +Sometimes, when she was busy driving one off, another +would get up behind her, and drive her off too; but she +always worked hard until she was up again.</p> + +<p>Do you not think she was a funny kitty? She always +went first, and took the lead, and used to box the ears of +Cuddle and Tittens when they did not mind her. Now she +is a big black cat, with a red collar around her neck, and +she catches rats and mice, and is very good and useful. +She only says, "<i>Sptss!</i>" when strange cats come into her +yard; but we still call her Spitfire.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +E. F.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus047.png" width="300" height="225" alt="Spitfire after a mouse" 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_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>THE COSSET-CALF.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">When</span> I was quite a little girl<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I had a cosset-calf,</span><br /> +And, when it ran about the fields,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It always made me laugh.</span><br /> +<br /> +It seemed as gentle as a lamb,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And from my hand was fed;</span><br /> +And how I grieved when first I felt<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The horns upon its head!</span><br /> +<br /> +It always answered to my call,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thrust its wet nose through</span><br /> +The bars, and tried its very best<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To say, "How do you do?"</span><br /> +<br /> +I left it in the early fall,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And kissed my pet with tears;</span><br /> +For to a little child the months<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stretch out as long as years.</span><br /> +<br /> +And when the summer came again,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I never shall forget</span><br /> +With what dismay I gazed upon<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My former little pet.</span><br /> +<br /> +I was afraid of those great horns,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So crooked on its brow,</span><br /> +Nor would believe my little calf<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was that enormous cow!</span><br /> +<br /> +But soon I learned to know its face<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And conquered my alarm,</span><br /> +And thought there was no nicer cow<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On any other farm.</span><br /> +<br /> +And oh the rich sweet milk she gave!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Why, just to make me laugh,</span><br /> +My mother used to call me then<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her little cosset-calf!</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> +<h2>PRIMER AND SLATE.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">Primer</span> and slate, primer and slate!<br /> +Hurry up, mother! I fear I am late.<br /> +A, B, C, D, and 1, 2, 3, 4,<br /> +Must be studied, so I can recite them once more.<br /> +Primer and slate, primer and slate,<br /> +Must be carefully conned if we hope to be great:<br /> +A man cannot hope much of a man to be,<br /> +Unless, when a boy, he has learned A, B, C.<br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Uncle Theo.</span><br /></div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 352px;"> +<img src="images/illus049.png" width="352" height="500" alt="DRAWING-LESSON BY HARRISON WEIR." title="" /> +<span class="caption">DRAWING-LESSON BY HARRISON WEIR.</span> +</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>"GREAT I AND LITTLE YOU."</h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">How</span> do you like that little new neighbor of yours?" +asked Herbert Greene's big brother, who had seen the two +little boys playing together in the yard.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you must mean Georgie Worthman," said Herbie. +"Why, I don't know. I like him, and I don't like him."</p> + +<p>Wallace laughed. "Then you quarrel a little sometimes," +said he. "Is that it?"</p> + +<p>"No, we don't quarrel," said Herbie. "I don't let him +know when I'm mad with him."</p> + +<p>"What does he do to make you mad with him?" asked +Wallace.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he says things," said Herbie.</p> + +<p>"Such as what?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he looks at my marbles, and says, 'Is that all +you've got? I have five times as many as that,—splendid +ones, too. They'd knock those all to smash.'"</p> + +<p>"Ah, I see!" said Wallace. "It is a clear case of '<i>great +I and little you</i>.'"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?" said Herbie.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you don't find out by Saturday night, I'll tell +you," said Wallace. This was on Monday.</p> + +<p>On Wednesday afternoon Herbie was out at play, and +presently Georgie Worthman came out. Wallace was in +his room, reading, with the windows open, and could hear +all that was said.</p> + +<p>Georgie brought his kite with him, and asked Herbie if +he would go to the common with him to fly his kite.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! if mother is willing," said Herbie. "But +where did you get that kite?—made it yourself, didn't +you? I've got one ever so much bigger than that, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +yards and yards of tail, and, when we let it out, it goes out +of sight quick,—now, I tell you!"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus051.png" width="500" height="379" alt="Fishing" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"This isn't the best I can make," said Georgie; "but if +I had a bigger one I couldn't pitch it, or hold it after it +was up."</p> + +<p>"Pooh! I could hold one that pulled like ten horses," +said Herbie; and he ran in to ask his mother if he could go +with Georgie to the common.</p> + +<p>His mother was willing if Wallace would go too; and so, +after a little good-natured bothering, and pretending he did +not want to go, Wallace took his hat, and Herbie got his +kite and twine, and the three boys set off for the common.</p> + +<p>Georgie's kite was pitched first, and went up in fine style. +Then Herbie's went off, and soon passed it, for it had a +longer string; and both were far up in the dazzling blue of +the sky.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There now!" said Herbie, "didn't I tell you my kite +would beat yours all to nothing? I bet there isn't another +kite in town that will begin to be a match for it!"</p> + +<p>"How is this? How is this?" said Wallace. "Seems to +me 'great I and little you' are around here pretty thick."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?" said both the little boys.</p> + +<p>"Why, when a fellow says that he has got the best +marbles, and the best kite, and the swiftest sled, and the +handsomest velocipede, and the most knowing dog, anywhere +in town, we say his talk is all '<i>great I and little +you</i>.' That is, we mean he is always bragging; and a +braggart is a very disagreeable person," said Wallace.</p> + +<p>Herbie looked at Georgie, and both blushed a little. The +boys had great fun with their kites; and when they got +home, and Wallace and Herbie went up stairs to put away +the kite, Herbie said, "Well, my kite did beat Georgie's, +just as I told him it would."</p> + +<p>"That is true," said Wallace; "but you said the other +day that you liked Georgie, and didn't like him, because +he was always telling how much bigger and better his +things were than yours; and now, to-day, you were making +yourself disagreeable to him by bragging about your kite. +Now, if you want the boys to like you, my lad, you must +give up talking 'great I and little you,' for it is not sensible +nor kind."</p> + +<p>So Herbie found out what Wallace meant, and he said to +himself, "I don't mean to let the fellows hear me talking, +'great I and little you' any more."</p> + +<div class='sig'> +H. W.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus052.png" width="300" height="103" alt="Decoration" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 331px;"> +<img src="images/illus053.png" width="331" height="400" alt="Our dog Tasso" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<h2>OUR DOG TASSO.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Tasso</span> is a big black dog. His back comes up almost to +the top of a dining-table. He does not look as though he +could ever have been carried about in a handkerchief; but, +when he was a puppy, he was brought home in that way +by a young lady as a present to her brothers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tasso seems to take delight in making himself useful. +When there is work to be done, he always wants to do his +part. He brings in wood, stick by stick, and puts it in the +wood-box, never stopping till the box is full. While he +is carrying in the wood, the boys fill the chip-basket; and +then Tasso takes that in his mouth, and puts it in its place +beside the wood-box.</p> + +<p>If any of the family has a basket or a bag to take to the +station, Tasso always insists on taking it. One rainy day, +we sent him to the station with three umbrellas, and he +delivered them all safely. One day his master went out to +the barn without his hat. Tasso did not think this was +proper: so he took the hat in his mouth and carried it out +to him.</p> + +<p>I could tell you many other amusing things about Tasso. +He is always attentive and obedient, and every one who +knows him loves him and trusts him.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +F. A. S.<br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>MAKING CHEESES.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">"<span class="smcap">Does</span> the little fairy</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Work in a dairy?</span><br /> +I hear her talk about making cheese,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She with her locks the color of money,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hanging long and crinkled and sunny</span><br /> +Down to her waist,—a golden fleece."<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Oh, such a laughter</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">As rings out after</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>My words, is the sweetest sound I know!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sparkle the eyes that had been dreaming:—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Aunty dear, if you want to see me,</span><br /> +I'll show you how to make one,—so!"<br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus055.png" width="500" height="372" alt="Round she whirls" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class='poem'> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Soon as she utters</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">This, out she flutters,</span><br /> +Her full fresh frock as white as the snows;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Round she whirls, and then in a minute</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sits down quick, and the air within it</span><br /> +Puffs it out like a full-blown rose.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That's what she pleases</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To call "making cheeses."</span><br /> +I'm sure I could give it a better name.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Call it playing at daffy-down-dilly,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Call it playing at white day-lily:</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>Either will suit me just the same.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Lily for brightness</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">She is, and for whiteness;</span><br /> +A golden centre her long locks grow!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And isn't that head, so shimmering, sunny,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Daffy-down-dilly-like, yellow as money?—</span><br /> +Rogue she is anyway, <i>that</i> I know.<br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Mrs. Clara Doty Bates.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>MY PETS.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">I am</span> a little girl seven years old. I live way up in the +woods of Maine, in the little town of Howland, forty miles +from anywhere. Now you may wonder how I can amuse +myself, so far away from the world: so I am going to tell +you.</p> + +<p>I live on a great farm, with grandpapa, Aunt Peeps, and +Nan, and Will. I have a pair of top-boots, so I can play +out doors in wet weather. I was glad when grandpapa +brought them home; and the first thing I did was to find +a good large mud-puddle, and oh! didn't I have fun, splashing +right through it!</p> + +<p>I drive old Frank whenever I please; and then, when we +get home, I feed him on apples and bread. He is twenty +years old, and has no teeth to eat hay with, and grandpapa +says he would starve to death if it were not for me.</p> + +<p>We let him go wherever he likes, and in hot weather he +stays on the barn-floor, out of the reach of the flies, most of +the time. He lets me card him, and he never kicks me. +One day last summer, Emma and I got old Frank upon a +haymow, about four feet from the floor, and there he lay +down on his side, and took a nap. Then I brought out a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +pan of meal and water, and fed it to him with an iron +spoon.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus057.png" width="500" height="381" alt="Frank on the floor" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>I have an old pet sheep too. It will run out from the +flock any time when it sees me coming, and follow me to +the house. One day I heard a noise against the kitchen-door, +and, when I opened it, my sheep came in, and followed +me right into the dining-room, and would not go out till I +gave it some potatoes.</p> + +<p>Major and Velvet Paw are my pet cats, and Peep is my +German canary-bird; and I had a pet chicken, but grandpapa +stepped on it one day. He says he would rather have +lost the best cow in the barn than have killed my chicken. +William says he will give me four eggs in the spring, and +then, perhaps, I can have four chickens instead of one.</p> + +<p>I have a bear,—a black, fierce-eyed bear, that gnashes +his teeth, and growls, and stands up and shakes his paws at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +me; but he is not a <i>real live bear</i>. He has to be wound +up with a key before he will growl. We have live bears +here in the woods, though: they come right into our yard, +and eat our sheep. We set a trap for one last fall, close to +the house, and a bear was caught in it.</p> + +<p>I have a wax doll almost as large as a real baby. I have +named it Gretchen. Cousin Mary brought it to me from +Germany. It has flaxen curls, and six of the prettiest little +pearl teeth, and it goes to sleep, and says papa and mamma, +and whines, and cries. I wonder if any of you little girls +have such a beautiful dolly.</p> + +<p>My doll, Rosie Deben, is six years old, and almost as +large as I am. I wash her whenever I like, and about once +a year Auntie Peeps paints her face over. I like Rosie for +an every-day doll, because I can wash her hands and face, +and undress her, and if she tumbles out of her wagon it only +bumps her head, and bruises her nose. She has tumbled +down stairs ever so many times.</p> + +<p>I have no little girls to play with; but there is a little +boy who comes to see me sometimes: his name is Percy, +and we go fishing down at the brook, and we catch little +bits of fish with pin hooks.</p> + +<p>I went to school last summer, and read in my "Nursery," +and Nan said I learned nicely. There were only four +scholars,—one for each corner of the room; and we had a +little rocking-chair to sit in.</p> + +<p>Nan thinks I have told you enough about my pets this +time, and I will bid you good-by.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Mamie.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus058.png" width="400" height="113" alt="Duck" 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_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 277px;"> +<img src="images/illus059.png" width="277" height="350" alt="Drilling the troops" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<h2>DRILLING THE TROOPS.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Here</span> is Corporal Hans drilling a squad under the eye of +his superior officer, Captain Ernest. The corporal is a +brave soldier. Anybody could tell that by his looks. But +he does not give his orders quite sternly enough to suit the +captain, who is teaching him how to do it.</p> + +<p>It makes a man of peace shudder to see the corporal +stand so calmly right at the mouth of a cannon. What if +the cannon should go off! But these military men get used +to such things. I don't suppose now that one of that whole +squad could be frightened into running away. They will +not move till they hear the word of command.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Uncle Sam.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>THE PICTURE-BOOK.</h2> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 244px;"> +<img src="images/illus060.png" width="244" height="300" alt="Horse" title="" /> +</div> +<div class='story'> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the book that Mary likes +so much to look at, there is a +nice picture of a horse. Here +it is.</p> + + + +<p>The horse +has a very +long tail and +also a long +thick mane. +He stands +very quietly +in his stall, +turning his +head around, as if he were in +want of some more hay. If he +should ask for it, what would +he say? Little Mary says he +would say, "Neigh!"</p> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 243px;"> +<img src="images/illus061.png" width="243" height="300" alt="Donkeys" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class='story'> +<p>The next picture shows us +two donkeys,—an old one and +a young one. They have very +long ears, and look as if they +might hear +all that we +say.</p> + + + +<p>The worst +we can say +of them or +their race is +that they are +homely, and +not so fleet +as the horse. But they are +very tough and strong and +patient.</p> + +<p>If the donkey should hear +this, perhaps he would open his +mouth and say, "Bray!"</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_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus062.png" width="500" height="384" alt="Blacksmith's Song" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<h2>A BLACKSMITH'S SONG.</h2> + + +<div class='poem2'> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><span class="smcap">Clang</span>, cling, clang, cling!</span><br /> +Bellows, you must roar, and anvil, you must ring;<br /> +Hammer, you and I must work—for ding, dong, ding<br /> +Must dress my Kate and baby, and bread for us must bring.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">So dong, ding, dong, ding!</span><br /> +Anvil, to my hammer make music while I sing,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Clang, cling, clang, cling!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Clang, cling, clang, cling!</span><br /> +Oh, well I love my smithy when the birds in spring-time sing,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>And the pleasant sun comes streaming in, the sun that loves to bring<br /> +Its gladness to me, working, and to hear my anvil ring.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Dong, ding, dong, ding!</span><br /> +And to see my iron glowing, and the sparks in showers spring,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Clang, cling, clang, cling!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Blow, blow, blow, blow!</span><br /> +Bellows, you must work till the furnace is aglow.<br /> +Snug is my old smithy when, without, comes down the snow,<br /> +When sooty wall and rafter in the blaze are all aglow.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Blow, blow, blow, blow!</span><br /> +What care I if the storm, then, without, be high or low?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Blow, blow, blow, blow!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Clang, cling, clang, cling!</span><br /> +Merrily the hours fly that hear my anvil ring;<br /> +And quick my evening chair and my evening meal they bring;<br /> +Then, while Kate works beside me, I'm as happy as a king.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Clang, cling, clang, cling!</span><br /> +God give me always health and strength to make my anvil ring:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Clang, cling, clang, cling!</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">W. C. Bennett.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 425px;"> +<img src="images/illus063.png" width="425" height="153" alt="Decoration" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus064.png" width="400" height="190" alt="MADAM QUACK." title="" /> +</div> + +<h2>MADAM QUACK.</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +Words from "The Nursery." Music by <span class="smcap">T. Crampton.</span><br /> +</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus064-music.png" width="500" height="573" alt="Music" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="center"><small>[<i>Transcriber's Note: You can play this music (MIDI file) by clicking</i> <a href="music/aug77.mid">here</a>.]</small><br /><br /></div> + + + + +<div class='poem2'> +1. Good-Day! Madam Quack with your young in your track,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Quite early they're out,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What are they about—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Those bright little things</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With their short downy wings?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm glad of your luck, you're a good mother duck!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And if young folks did know half the joy they bestow</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When attentive and good—they would try all they could.</span><br /> +<br /> +2. You know sir, I see what young ducklings should be;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your taste I commend,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My civil young friend;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They're beauties you see and obedient to me.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In ponds they can paddle,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On land they can waddle,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They dive and they flutter,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Quack, quack, they can utter:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm glad they can learn, and great fame they will earn.</span><br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes</h3> +<p>The July edition of the Nursery had a table of contents for the next +six issues of the year. This table was divided to cover each specific +issue. A title page copied from this same July edition was also used for +this number and the issue number added after the Volume number. +</p> + +<p>Page 38, closing single quotation mark added to text. (through the rye!'")</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Nursery, August 1877, Vol. XXII, +No. 2, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, AUGUST 1877 *** + +***** This file should be named 28136-h.htm or 28136-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/1/3/28136/ + +Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. 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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, August 1877, Vol. XXII, No. 2 + A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 20, 2009 [EBook #28136] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, AUGUST 1877 *** + + + + +Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. Music +by Linda Cantoni. + + + + + + + + +THE + +NURSERY + + +_A Monthly Magazine_ + + +FOR YOUNGEST READERS. + + +VOLUME XXII.--No. 2. + + + 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. + + PAGE + A Day at the Beach 33 + Buttercup and Daisy 37 + Aunt Mary's Bullfinch 38 + The poor Man's Well 43 + Spitfire 45 + Drawing-Lesson 49 + "Great I and little you" 50 + Our Dog Tasso 53 + My Pets 56 + Drilling the Troops 59 + The Picture-Book 60 + + +IN VERSE. + + PAGE + Bumble-Bee 36 + King Drake 40 + The Cosset-Calf 48 + Primer and Slate 48 + Making Cheeses 54 + A Blacksmith's Song 62 + Madam Quack (_with music_) 64 + +[Illustration: Birds] + + +[Illustration: VOL. XXII.--NO. 2.] + + + + +A DAY AT THE BEACH. + + +[Illustration: T]HERE are few of the little readers of "The Nursery" who +could not tell of pleasant days spent among green fields and woods, or +on the seashore. But in almost every large city, there are many children +who have never been out of sight of brick walls. + +Their homes are in close rooms in narrow streets, and there they live +from one year's end to the other. In winter they are often pinched with +cold. In summer they suffer even more from the heat. You may see them at +windows and doors, or on hot sidewalks, trying to get a breath of fresh +air. It is not pure air, but the best they can get. + +What I am going to tell you is about two of those poor children. One is +a little girl, nine years old, whom we will call Jane. The other, who is +only eight years old, is her brother George. + +Both children go to a Sunday school, and have for their teacher a kind +lady, who takes great interest in them. One warm summer day, to their +great delight, this lady, whom we will name Miss White, called for them +to go with her on a trip to the seashore. + +Dressed in the best clothes they could muster, they were soon on board +the steamboat. Here every thing was new to them. As the boat steamed +down the harbor, it would have been joy to anybody only to watch the +happy expression on their faces. + +By and by the boat neared the land; and there the children saw a +wonderful sight. What do you suppose it was? It was a cow quietly +feeding on the shore. They had never seen a cow before. + +Then Jane got sight of an apple-tree, and George spied a man raking +hay. Here was another new sensation. While they were feasting their eyes +on green fields, and inhaling the sweet country air, the boat stopped at +the wharf. + +A few steps brought them to the beach; and there, stretched before them, +was the great wide ocean, with the surf rolling in, and a cool +sea-breeze blowing. Then their joy knew no bounds. Miss White did not +try to restrain them; for she meant to give them at least one day of +perfect freedom. + +So they roamed at will. How they dug wells in the sand, how they flung +stones into the water, how they picked up shells and sea-weed, how they +scrambled over the rocks, it would take too much space to tell. + +When they were well tired out, and began to be hungry, Miss White opened +a luncheon-box in a shady place among the rocks, and gave them such a +dinner as they had never had before. Then their bliss was complete. + +The day passed away almost too quickly, and the time came to go back to +the city. That seemed rather hard to Jane and George. But they have the +promise of another excursion before the summer is over. + + JANE OLIVER. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +BUMBLE-BEE. + + + THE smartest of dandies is young Mr. Bee, + Who is known by the name of Bumble; + His life is a short one, but merry and free: + They're mistaken who call him "Humble." + Clad in black velvet, with trimmings of yellow, + He knows well enough he's a fine-looking fellow; + And, hiding away a sharp little dagger, + He dashes about with a confident swagger, + While to show he's at ease, and to tell of his coming, + A tune he is always carelessly humming. + Eating or drinking, or looking for pleasure + Fit for the tastes of a person of leisure, + Down where the meadow is sunny and breezy, + In the red clover, he takes the world easy; + Or, feeling the need of a little diversion, + He makes to the garden a pleasant excursion, + And into a lily or hollyhock dodging + With quiet assurance he takes up his lodging. + With a snug little fortune invested in honey, + Young Bumble Bee lives like a prince, on his money, + And, scorning some plodding relations of his, he + Leaves hard labor to them,--his cousins named "Busy." + + D. B. BARNARD. + +[Illustration] + + + + +BUTTERCUP AND DAISY. + + +_Dear little Readers of "The Nursery:"_--I would like to tell you a +story about my little brother Clinton and myself. We each have a nice +little calf down at our grandpa's farm in the country. One is a pure +Alderney, grandpa says, and is of a beautiful fawn color: the other is +red and white. Grandpa let us name them: so we called them Buttercup and +Daisy. Clinton's is Buttercup, and mine is Daisy. + +They are both very kind and gentle. Both have cunning little horns, just +coming out of their heads; but they do not hook little brother or me. In +the picture you will see them eating corn out of our hands. + +At first we were afraid of their damp noses and rough tongues; but we +soon got over that, and now feed them every time we go to the farm. + +Papa tried to have the little Alderney give us a ride on its back; but, +as soon as we were well on, the calf kicked up its heels and ran away, +saying, "Bah!" and leaving brother and me on our backs on the soft turf. +We were not hurt at all, but had a good laugh. + +Buttercup soon came back for more corn; and uncle said, "Give it to her +in the ear;" but I said I thought her mouth was the best place to put it +in. Then uncle laughed, and said that was a joke. Do you know what he +meant? + + HARRY C. MATHER. + + + + +AUNT MARY'S BULLFINCH. + + +"NOW be sure and not frighten it, children," said Aunt Mary as she left +the room. + +John and Lucy lifted the handkerchief from the cage, while Paul and +Richard, with anxious eyes, stood by to get a sight of the piping +bullfinch, of which they had heard so much. + +This little bird had been presented to Aunt Mary by a German lady to +whom she had been kind. It could whistle two or three tunes in a way to +surprise all hearers. While the children were looking at it, it began to +pipe. + +"I know that tune," cried Richard. "It is 'Coming through the rye!'" + +"And now the tune changes to 'Merrily every bosom boundeth,'" said Lucy. +"What a wonderful little bird!" + +"But how did it learn to whistle these tunes?" asked Paul. + +Aunt Mary, coming in at that moment, explained to the children that in +some of the small towns of Germany are persons who teach these little +birds. It takes about a year for a bullfinch to learn a tune. But some +of them learn more quickly than others: so it is with some children. + +[Illustration] + +The birds are at first kept in a dark room; and when they are fed, a +tune is played or whistled. They associate this tune with the act of +feeding; and gradually seem to find out what is wanted of them. + +The price of a bird that can pipe a tune in good style is from fifty to +one hundred dollars. A good deal of time and trouble has to be spent in +teaching the birds. Sometimes a child is employed to play a tune on a +little hand-organ; and this the little bird learns after hearing it many +times. + +When the bullfinch learns well, he is praised and petted, and this he +seems to enjoy very much. Even birds, you see, like to be praised and +petted. + + DORA BURNSIDE. + + + + +KING DRAKE. + + + "I'M king of the rock," said a silly old drake; + "And no one must dare my claim to partake. + I shall punish severely whoever comes near + Without my permission: let all the world hear!" + +[Illustration] + + But out of the water, on the rock as he stands, + Comes up, as if praying, what seemed like two hands. + "Ah! here is a subject already for me! + Come, my son, and fear nothing, I'll spare you," said he. + +[Illustration] + + But his majesty starts as if from a shock, + When he sees a big lobster make a bow on the rock. + "That is well," said the king; "but consider, my son, + This rock is my throne, and is only for one." + +[Illustration] + + The lobster, however, is slow to obey; + He spreads himself out; he will not go away. + "Are you deaf?" cries King Drake, "go, pigmy! Get down! + How dare you thus brave a drake of renown?" + +[Illustration] + + But the lobster, at this, nips King Drake in the leg. + "Oh, loosen your claw! Let go! Oh! I beg." + Tighter pinches the claw: "Rebellion! help! hear! + King Drake is in trouble: is nobody near?" + +[Illustration] + + In vain are his kicks; his cries are in vain: + The lobster clings fast, in spite of the pain; + Nor lets go his hold till they get to the bank: + Then the king waddles home, giving up throne and rank. + + FROM THE GERMAN. + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE POOR MAN'S WELL. + + +AMONG the Azores, is situated the beautiful Island of Fayal, with its +orange-groves and profusion of flowers. But, notwithstanding the fruit +and flowers, there is one thing which Americans who live there miss +sadly, and that is fresh, cool water. There are no lakes or ponds, such +as we have here; and so the people have to use rain-water, which they +save in large tanks or cisterns. + +There are a few wells on the island, which, as the water rises and falls +in them twice in every twenty-four hours, are called "tide-wells." But +there was a time, many years ago, when the people had neither cisterns +nor wells, and were obliged to get water from hollows in the rocks. And +this is the story of the first well. + +The year 1699 was a year when scarcely any rain fell. The grain did not +grow, the cows and sheep died from thirst, and many of the poor people +also. Now there was a very rich man on the island, who had come here to +live many years before, from another part of the world. + +Though he was so rich, and might have done much good with his money, he +was so stingy and so hard, that the people did not love him at all. But +his bags of silver and gold did not buy him water; and at last the +thought came to him, "Why! I will dig a well, as people used to do in my +country. I will dig it on my own land, and no one shall have a drop of +the water but myself." + +So he hired men to come and dig the well; but he paid them only a little +money, and was very unkind to them. They dug and they dug; but no water +came. At last they said they would work no longer unless their master +would promise them some of the water, and he promised them the use of +the well for half of every day. + +[Illustration] + +Now they dug with more patience; and one morning, as early as six +o'clock, they suddenly found water. They claimed the privilege of using +the well for the first six hours; and the master dared not refuse. As +they were drawing the water, they noticed that it began to grow lower +and lower in the well; and at twelve o'clock, the master's hour, none +was left. + +He was very, very angry, and said he would never give the men any work +again. However, at six o'clock that night, they again demanded the use +of the well. He mockingly asked them if they expected the water would +come for them, and not for him. Nevertheless they went to the well; and, +to the master's awe and wonder, it was full of water. + +At midnight, the master again tried to get water from the well, and, as +before, found it empty. He now felt afraid, believing that some divine +power controlled the action of the water. He went to the church and +vowed, before God, that if the water should come again next morning, he +would dedicate it to the poor forever. + +In the morning, when the men visited the well, there was the fresh water +awaiting them. The master kept his vow, and thus the well became "The +Poor Man's Well." To this day the water rises and falls in it twice in +every twenty-four hours. I give you here a picture of the well, and +should you ever go to Fayal you may see the original. + + K. H. S. + +[Illustration] + + + + +SPITFIRE. + + +CAN you guess what she was? She was a little black kitten; and I must +tell you all about her, and why we gave her such a funny name. Teddikins +had a great mouse-colored cat called Maltie, and she had three little +kitties,--Spitfire, Miss Tittens, and Cuddle. Spitfire was all black, +just as black as a lump of coal, while Miss Tittens was gray, and Cuddle +was gray and white. + +The first time Teddikins and I looked into the box where Maltie and her +kitties were, they were very, very little, and their eyes were not open. +The black kitty was lying on top of the others; and Teddikins put in his +little fat hand and picked her up. What do you suppose she did? She +said, "_Sptss!_" and she kept on saying, "_Sptss_" until Teddikins put +her down again; and so we called her Spitfire. + +Just as soon as she could see out of her funny little gray eyes, she +began to try to get out of the box. She wanted to see what there was +outside, where Maltie went. She would climb up a little way, and then +tumble back on Miss Tittens and Cuddle, which would make them say, +"Mew," and make Teddikins laugh; but Spitfire always said, "_Sptss!_" +and would try again. + +At last, one day we heard a thump; and we looked around, and there was +Spitfire on the floor. She had climbed to the top of the box, and +tumbled over the edge, and there she stood, with her tail straight in +the air, and her legs wide apart, looking at us, and saying, "_Sptss!_" + +Maltie was very proud of her kitties, and used to take Cuddle and Miss +Tittens in her mouth, and carry them into the dining-room when we were +eating our breakfast, to show them to us. But Spitfire would not let her +mamma carry her. She would walk in all alone, tumbling over on her +little nose very often (for her legs were not yet strong), but carrying +her little black tail just as straight as little boys carry sticks when +they call them guns. + +One morning, Teddikins put a saucer of milk on the floor and what do you +suppose that little Spitfire did? Why, she looked at it very hard, and +then she said, "_Sptss_," and walked right into the milk, and out the +other side of the saucer, with Tittens and Cuddle after her. The floor +was covered with the funny white prints of their little paws. + +One day a mouse ran across the kitchen; and Cuddle and Tittens were very +much frightened; but Spitfire humped up her back, and made her tail very +big, and said "_Sptss!_" very hard, and then cantered off sideways +staring at the mouse, and saying, "_Sptss!_" all the time. + +You know how kitties like to go to sleep, all cuddled up together. But +Spitfire would not lie down with the others: she always tried to get on +top of them. + +When the little kitties were quite strong, they used to play a funny +sort of game. There was a round foot-stool, covered with carpet, and +Spitfire used to sit up on it, and then Cuddle and Miss Tittens would +try to climb up the sides. Then Spitfire would say, "_Sptss!_" and pat +them on the heads with her little paws until they rolled down again. +Sometimes, when she was busy driving one off, another would get up +behind her, and drive her off too; but she always worked hard until she +was up again. + +Do you not think she was a funny kitty? She always went first, and took +the lead, and used to box the ears of Cuddle and Tittens when they did +not mind her. Now she is a big black cat, with a red collar around her +neck, and she catches rats and mice, and is very good and useful. She +only says, "_Sptss!_" when strange cats come into her yard; but we still +call her Spitfire. + + E. F. + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE COSSET-CALF. + + + WHEN I was quite a little girl + I had a cosset-calf, + And, when it ran about the fields, + It always made me laugh. + + It seemed as gentle as a lamb, + And from my hand was fed; + And how I grieved when first I felt + The horns upon its head! + + It always answered to my call, + And thrust its wet nose through + The bars, and tried its very best + To say, "How do you do?" + + I left it in the early fall, + And kissed my pet with tears; + For to a little child the months + Stretch out as long as years. + + And when the summer came again, + I never shall forget + With what dismay I gazed upon + My former little pet. + + I was afraid of those great horns, + So crooked on its brow, + Nor would believe my little calf + Was that enormous cow! + + But soon I learned to know its face + And conquered my alarm, + And thought there was no nicer cow + On any other farm. + + And oh the rich sweet milk she gave! + Why, just to make me laugh, + My mother used to call me then + Her little cosset-calf! + + JOSEPHINE POLLARD. + + + + +PRIMER AND SLATE. + + + PRIMER and slate, primer and slate! + Hurry up, mother! I fear I am late. + A, B, C, D, and 1, 2, 3, 4, + Must be studied, so I can recite them once more. + Primer and slate, primer and slate, + Must be carefully conned if we hope to be great: + A man cannot hope much of a man to be, + Unless, when a boy, he has learned A, B, C. + + UNCLE THEO. + +[Illustration: DRAWING-LESSON BY HARRISON WEIR. + +VOL XXII.--NO. 2.] + + + + +"GREAT I AND LITTLE YOU." + + +"HOW do you like that little new neighbor of yours?" asked Herbert +Greene's big brother, who had seen the two little boys playing together +in the yard. + +"Oh, you must mean Georgie Worthman," said Herbie. "Why, I don't know. I +like him, and I don't like him." + +Wallace laughed. "Then you quarrel a little sometimes," said he. "Is +that it?" + +"No, we don't quarrel," said Herbie. "I don't let him know when I'm mad +with him." + +"What does he do to make you mad with him?" asked Wallace. + +"Oh, he says things," said Herbie. + +"Such as what?" + +"Well, he looks at my marbles, and says, 'Is that all you've got? I have +five times as many as that,--splendid ones, too. They'd knock those all +to smash.'" + +"Ah, I see!" said Wallace. "It is a clear case of '_great I and little +you_.'" + +"What do you mean by that?" said Herbie. + +"Well, if you don't find out by Saturday night, I'll tell you," said +Wallace. This was on Monday. + +On Wednesday afternoon Herbie was out at play, and presently Georgie +Worthman came out. Wallace was in his room, reading, with the windows +open, and could hear all that was said. + +Georgie brought his kite with him, and asked Herbie if he would go to +the common with him to fly his kite. + +"Oh, yes! if mother is willing," said Herbie. "But where did you get +that kite?--made it yourself, didn't you? I've got one ever so much +bigger than that, with yards and yards of tail, and, when we let it +out, it goes out of sight quick,--now, I tell you!" + +[Illustration] + +"This isn't the best I can make," said Georgie; "but if I had a bigger +one I couldn't pitch it, or hold it after it was up." + +"Pooh! I could hold one that pulled like ten horses," said Herbie; and +he ran in to ask his mother if he could go with Georgie to the common. + +His mother was willing if Wallace would go too; and so, after a little +good-natured bothering, and pretending he did not want to go, Wallace +took his hat, and Herbie got his kite and twine, and the three boys set +off for the common. + +Georgie's kite was pitched first, and went up in fine style. Then +Herbie's went off, and soon passed it, for it had a longer string; and +both were far up in the dazzling blue of the sky. + +"There now!" said Herbie, "didn't I tell you my kite would beat yours +all to nothing? I bet there isn't another kite in town that will begin +to be a match for it!" + +"How is this? How is this?" said Wallace. "Seems to me 'great I and +little you' are around here pretty thick." + +"What do you mean by that?" said both the little boys. + +"Why, when a fellow says that he has got the best marbles, and the best +kite, and the swiftest sled, and the handsomest velocipede, and the most +knowing dog, anywhere in town, we say his talk is all '_great I and +little you_.' That is, we mean he is always bragging; and a braggart is +a very disagreeable person," said Wallace. + +Herbie looked at Georgie, and both blushed a little. The boys had great +fun with their kites; and when they got home, and Wallace and Herbie +went up stairs to put away the kite, Herbie said, "Well, my kite did +beat Georgie's, just as I told him it would." + +"That is true," said Wallace; "but you said the other day that you liked +Georgie, and didn't like him, because he was always telling how much +bigger and better his things were than yours; and now, to-day, you were +making yourself disagreeable to him by bragging about your kite. Now, if +you want the boys to like you, my lad, you must give up talking 'great I +and little you,' for it is not sensible nor kind." + +So Herbie found out what Wallace meant, and he said to himself, "I don't +mean to let the fellows hear me talking, 'great I and little you' any +more." + + H. W. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + +OUR DOG TASSO. + + +TASSO is a big black dog. His back comes up almost to the top of a +dining-table. He does not look as though he could ever have been carried +about in a handkerchief; but, when he was a puppy, he was brought home +in that way by a young lady as a present to her brothers. + +Tasso seems to take delight in making himself useful. When there is work +to be done, he always wants to do his part. He brings in wood, stick by +stick, and puts it in the wood-box, never stopping till the box is full. +While he is carrying in the wood, the boys fill the chip-basket; and +then Tasso takes that in his mouth, and puts it in its place beside the +wood-box. + +If any of the family has a basket or a bag to take to the station, Tasso +always insists on taking it. One rainy day, we sent him to the station +with three umbrellas, and he delivered them all safely. One day his +master went out to the barn without his hat. Tasso did not think this +was proper: so he took the hat in his mouth and carried it out to him. + +I could tell you many other amusing things about Tasso. He is always +attentive and obedient, and every one who knows him loves him and trusts +him. + + F. A. S. + + + + +MAKING CHEESES. + + + "DOES the little fairy + Work in a dairy? + I hear her talk about making cheese,-- + She with her locks the color of money, + Hanging long and crinkled and sunny + Down to her waist,--a golden fleece." + + Oh, such a laughter + As rings out after + My words, is the sweetest sound I know! + Sparkle the eyes that had been dreaming:-- + "Aunty dear, if you want to see me, + I'll show you how to make one,--so!" + +[Illustration] + + Soon as she utters + This, out she flutters, + Her full fresh frock as white as the snows; + Round she whirls, and then in a minute + Sits down quick, and the air within it + Puffs it out like a full-blown rose. + + That's what she pleases + To call "making cheeses." + I'm sure I could give it a better name. + Call it playing at daffy-down-dilly, + Call it playing at white day-lily: + Either will suit me just the same. + + Lily for brightness + She is, and for whiteness; + A golden centre her long locks grow! + And isn't that head, so shimmering, sunny, + Daffy-down-dilly-like, yellow as money?-- + Rogue she is anyway, _that_ I know. + + MRS. CLARA DOTY BATES. + + + + +MY PETS. + + +I AM a little girl seven years old. I live way up in the woods of Maine, +in the little town of Howland, forty miles from anywhere. Now you may +wonder how I can amuse myself, so far away from the world: so I am going +to tell you. + +I live on a great farm, with grandpapa, Aunt Peeps, and Nan, and Will. I +have a pair of top-boots, so I can play out doors in wet weather. I was +glad when grandpapa brought them home; and the first thing I did was to +find a good large mud-puddle, and oh! didn't I have fun, splashing right +through it! + +I drive old Frank whenever I please; and then, when we get home, I feed +him on apples and bread. He is twenty years old, and has no teeth to eat +hay with, and grandpapa says he would starve to death if it were not for +me. + +We let him go wherever he likes, and in hot weather he stays on the +barn-floor, out of the reach of the flies, most of the time. He lets me +card him, and he never kicks me. One day last summer, Emma and I got old +Frank upon a haymow, about four feet from the floor, and there he lay +down on his side, and took a nap. Then I brought out a pan of meal and +water, and fed it to him with an iron spoon. + +[Illustration] + +I have an old pet sheep too. It will run out from the flock any time +when it sees me coming, and follow me to the house. One day I heard a +noise against the kitchen-door, and, when I opened it, my sheep came in, +and followed me right into the dining-room, and would not go out till I +gave it some potatoes. + +Major and Velvet Paw are my pet cats, and Peep is my German canary-bird; +and I had a pet chicken, but grandpapa stepped on it one day. He says he +would rather have lost the best cow in the barn than have killed my +chicken. William says he will give me four eggs in the spring, and then, +perhaps, I can have four chickens instead of one. + +I have a bear,--a black, fierce-eyed bear, that gnashes his teeth, and +growls, and stands up and shakes his paws at me; but he is not a _real +live bear_. He has to be wound up with a key before he will growl. We +have live bears here in the woods, though: they come right into our +yard, and eat our sheep. We set a trap for one last fall, close to the +house, and a bear was caught in it. + +I have a wax doll almost as large as a real baby. I have named it +Gretchen. Cousin Mary brought it to me from Germany. It has flaxen +curls, and six of the prettiest little pearl teeth, and it goes to +sleep, and says papa and mamma, and whines, and cries. I wonder if any +of you little girls have such a beautiful dolly. + +My doll, Rosie Deben, is six years old, and almost as large as I am. I +wash her whenever I like, and about once a year Auntie Peeps paints her +face over. I like Rosie for an every-day doll, because I can wash her +hands and face, and undress her, and if she tumbles out of her wagon it +only bumps her head, and bruises her nose. She has tumbled down stairs +ever so many times. + +I have no little girls to play with; but there is a little boy who comes +to see me sometimes: his name is Percy, and we go fishing down at the +brook, and we catch little bits of fish with pin hooks. + +I went to school last summer, and read in my "Nursery," and Nan said I +learned nicely. There were only four scholars,--one for each corner of +the room; and we had a little rocking-chair to sit in. + +Nan thinks I have told you enough about my pets this time, and I will +bid you good-by. + + MAMIE. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +DRILLING THE TROOPS. + + +HERE is Corporal Hans drilling a squad under the eye of his superior +officer, Captain Ernest. The corporal is a brave soldier. Anybody could +tell that by his looks. But he does not give his orders quite sternly +enough to suit the captain, who is teaching him how to do it. + +It makes a man of peace shudder to see the corporal stand so calmly +right at the mouth of a cannon. What if the cannon should go off! But +these military men get used to such things. I don't suppose now that one +of that whole squad could be frightened into running away. They will not +move till they hear the word of command. + + UNCLE SAM. + + + + +THE PICTURE-BOOK. + + +IN the book that Mary likes so much to look at, there is a nice picture +of a horse. Here it is. + +[Illustration] + +The horse has a very long tail and also a long thick mane. He stands +very quietly in his stall, turning his head around, as if he were in +want of some more hay. If he should ask for it, what would he say? +Little Mary says he would say, "Neigh!" + +The next picture shows us two donkeys,--an old one and a young one. They +have very long ears, and look as if they might hear all that we say. + +[Illustration] + +The worst we can say of them or their race is that they are homely, and +not so fleet as the horse. But they are very tough and strong and +patient. + +If the donkey should hear this, perhaps he would open his mouth and say, +"Bray!" + + A. B. C. + +[Illustration] + + + + +A BLACKSMITH'S SONG. + + + CLANG, cling, clang, cling! + Bellows, you must roar, and anvil, you must ring; + Hammer, you and I must work--for ding, dong, ding + Must dress my Kate and baby, and bread for us must bring. + So dong, ding, dong, ding! + Anvil, to my hammer make music while I sing,-- + Clang, cling, clang, cling! + + Clang, cling, clang, cling! + Oh, well I love my smithy when the birds in spring-time sing, + And the pleasant sun comes streaming in, the sun that loves to bring + Its gladness to me, working, and to hear my anvil ring. + Dong, ding, dong, ding! + And to see my iron glowing, and the sparks in showers spring,-- + Clang, cling, clang, cling! + + Blow, blow, blow, blow! + Bellows, you must work till the furnace is aglow. + Snug is my old smithy when, without, comes down the snow, + When sooty wall and rafter in the blaze are all aglow. + Blow, blow, blow, blow! + What care I if the storm, then, without, be high or low? + Blow, blow, blow, blow! + + Clang, cling, clang, cling! + Merrily the hours fly that hear my anvil ring; + And quick my evening chair and my evening meal they bring; + Then, while Kate works beside me, I'm as happy as a king. + Clang, cling, clang, cling! + God give me always health and strength to make my anvil ring: + Clang, cling, clang, cling! + + W. C. BENNETT. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration: MADAM QUACK.] + +[Illustration: Music] + + + + +MADAM QUACK. + + + Words from "The Nursery." Music by T. CRAMPTON. + + 1. Good-Day! Madam Quack with your young in your track, + Quite early they're out, + What are they about-- + Those bright little things + With their short downy wings? + I'm glad of your luck, you're a good mother duck! + And if young folks did know half the joy they bestow + When attentive and good--they would try all they could. + + 2. You know sir, I see what young ducklings should be; + Your taste I commend, + My civil young friend; + They're beauties you see and obedient to me. + In ponds they can paddle, + On land they can waddle, + They dive and they flutter, + Quack, quack, they can utter: + I'm glad they can learn, and great fame they will earn. + + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes: + +The July edition of the Nursery had a table of contents for the next six +issues of the year. This table was divided to cover each specific issue. +A title page copied from this same July edition was also used for this +number and the issue number added after the Volume number. + +Page 38, closing single quotation mark added to text. (through the +rye!'") + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Nursery, August 1877, Vol. XXII, +No. 2 by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, AUGUST 1877 *** + +***** This file should be named 28136.txt or 28136.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/1/3/28136/ + +Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. 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