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diff --git a/28139-h/28139-h.htm b/28139-h/28139-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f4d0bd2 --- /dev/null +++ b/28139-h/28139-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1713 @@ +<!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, November 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;} + + 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, November 1877, Vol. XXII. No. 5, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Nursery, November 1877, Vol. XXII. No. 5 + A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 20, 2009 [EBook #28139] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, NOVEMBER 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. 5.<br /> + +<br /><br /> +BOSTON:<br /> +JOHN L. SHOREY, No. 36 BROMFIELD STREET,<br /> +1877.<br /> +</div> + +<div class='copyright'><br /><br /><br /> +Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by<br /> +JOHN L. SHOREY,<br /> +In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.<br /> +<br /><br /><br /> +FRANKLIN PRESS:<br /> +RAND, AVERY, AND COMPANY,<br /> +117 FRANKLIN STREET,<br /> +BOSTON.<br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/contents.png" width="400" height="210" alt="Contents" title="" /> +</div> + +<h3>IN PROSE.</h3> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents in Prose"> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sarah's Picture</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Kitty Bell</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A clever Fox</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>How Ponto got his Dinner</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Pet Pigeon</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Eighth Lesson in Astronomy </td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Drawing-Lesson</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Farm</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Drawing-Master</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Learning to iron</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Birdie and Baby</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Boys and Rabbits</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tobacco and Egg</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_158">158</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'>Steering for Home</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Three naughty Pigs</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Butterfly and the Grasshopper </td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Little Mosquito</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A naughty Baby</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Apple Tree (<i>with music</i>)</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/contents_end.png" width="200" height="139" alt="Birds" title="" /> +</div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 351px;"> +<img src="images/illus129.png" width="351" height="500" alt="STEERING FOR HOME." title="" /> +<span class="caption">STEERING FOR HOME.</span> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> +<h2>STEERING FOR HOME.</h2> + + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 118px;"> +<img src="images/illus130.png" width="118" height="125" alt="B" title="" /> +</div><div class='poem2'><br /><br />LOW, thou bitter northern gale;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Heave, thou rolling, foaming sea;</span><br /> +Bend the mast and fill the sail,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let the gallant ship go free!</span><br /> +Steady, lad! Be firm and steady!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the compass fix your eye;</span><br /> +Ever watchful, ever ready,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let the rain and spray go by!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">We're steering for home.</span><br /> +<br /> +Let the waves with angry thud<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shake the ship from stem to stern;</span><br /> +We can brave the flying scud,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It may go, it may return:</span><br /> +In the wind are cheerful voices,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the waves a pleasant song,</span><br /> +And the sailor's heart rejoices<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As the good ship bounds along.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">We're steering for home.</span><br /> +<br /> +Standing on the briny deck,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beaten by the blinding spray,</span><br /> +Fearing neither storm nor wreck,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let us keep our onward way.</span><br /> +Loving hearts for us are yearning,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now in hope, and now in doubt,</span><br /> +Looking for our swift returning,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How they try to make us out!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">We're steering for home.</span><br /> +<br /> +Fainter blows the bitter gale,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And more peaceful grows the sea;</span><br /> +Now, boys, trim again the sail;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Land is looming on the lee!</span><br /> +See! the beacon-light is flashing,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hark! those shouts are from the shore;</span><br /> +To the wharf home friends are dashing;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now our hardest work is o'er.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Three cheers for our home!</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Tom Bowling.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>SARAH'S PICTURE.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> name is Sarah. I live in Bristol, Conn., and am +not quite five years old. I have taken "The Nursery" +ever since I was two.</p> + +<p>About three years ago a lady gave me a little trunk, and +I have kept my magazines in it ever since. Last winter, +when snow was on the ground, and I had to stay in the +house a good deal, I used to get my trunk and sit down on +the floor by mamma, and look my "Nursery" through +almost every day. So mamma thought she would like to +have my picture taken just in that way.</p> + +<p>Now I must introduce you to my dog Beauty, who sits +by my side in the picture. You see he is a Spitz; but do +not be frightened: he will never have hydrophobia. I +cannot think of having him muzzled, for one of his charms +is the way he opens and shuts his mouth when he barks. +Oh, no, Beauty! I will never hurt your feelings by making +you wear a muzzle.</p> + +<p>My grandma gave me this dear dog a year ago last<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +Christmas. He had two beautiful red eyes then; now he +has none. He had two long silky ears then; now he has +but one. He had four legs, and a bushy tail curled over his +back; now he has but two legs, and no tail. But I love him +just as well as ever.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus132.png" width="500" height="376" alt="The dolly you see sitting against the trunk" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The dolly you see sitting up against the trunk is my +daughter Nannie. I have four other children.</p> + +<p>Nellie is a fair-haired blonde, but is getting rather past +her prime. You know blondes fade young.</p> + +<p>Rosa Grace once had lovely flaxen curls, and very rosy +cheeks; but now her curls are few and far between, her +cheeks are faded, and her arms and feet are out of order.</p> + +<p>Next comes Florence, who has joints, and can sit up +like a lady anywhere. My papa brought her from San +Francisco. She has yellow hair, and is dressed in crimson +silk.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> + +<p>My youngest is not yet named. She is quite small, has +black hair and eyes, and is rather old-fashioned looking. +If you can think of a name just right for her, I wish you +would please let me know. It is so perplexing to name so +many children!</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Sarah H. Buck.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>THREE NAUGHTY PIGS.</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Three</span> naughty pigs,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All in one pen,</span><br /> +Drank up their milk<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Left by the men.</span><br /> +<br /> +Then all the three,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fast as they could,</span><br /> +Dug their way out<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To find something good.</span> <br /> +<br /> +Out in the garden<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A maiden fair</span><br /> +Had set some flowers,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of beauty rare.</span><br /> +<br /> +Out in the garden<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A merry boy</span><br /> +Had planted seeds,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With childish joy.</span><br /> +</td><td align='left'>One naughty pig<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ran to the bed;</span><br /> +Soon lay the flowers<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Drooping and dead.</span><br /> +<br /> +Two naughty pigs<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dug up the seeds,</span><br /> +And left for the boy<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not even weeds.</span><br /> +<br /> +Three naughty pigs<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Back in the pen,</span><br /> +Never could do<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Such digging again.</span><br /> +<br /> +For in their noses<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Something would hurt</span><br /> +Whenever they tried<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To dig in the dirt.</span><br /> +</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class='sig'> +F. L. T.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/illus133.png" width="350" height="170" alt="Three pigs" 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_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2>KITTY BELL.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> there was a little girl named Alice, and she had an +Uncle George whom she loved very dearly. One day, as +Alice was looking out of the window, she saw her Uncle +George coming into the yard with a covered basket in his +hand.</p> + +<p>Alice ran to meet him, and, as she was kissing him in the +hall, she heard a faint sound in the basket, and exclaimed, +"O Uncle George! what have you brought me?"</p> + +<p>"Look into the basket and see," said her uncle.</p> + +<p>So Alice peeped in very carefully, and saw a little black +kitten. The little girl was delighted, and fairly danced +around her uncle as she said, "What a dear little kitten! +Is it for me, Uncle George? Who sent it to me? Did +you bring it from your house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said her uncle, "your Cousin Edith sent it to +you; she thought you would like it."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Alice, "you must thank Edith a thousand +times, and here is a kiss for you for bringing it to me; and +I'm sure the poor little thing must be hungry: so I'll give +it something to eat."</p> + +<p>She carried the kitten into the kitchen, and soon got from +the cook a nice pan of milk. Her little brother Harry came +running in to see the new kitten eat its dinner, and with +him came the old family cat, Mouser, who rubbed and +purred against Alice, as if he wanted her to pet him too.</p> + +<p>The next thing was to find a name, "pretty, and not too +common," Alice said. While she was trying to think of +one, she went up to her own little room, and searched +among her ribbons for a piece to tie around the kitten's +neck. She soon found one that was just the thing.</p> + +<p>In one of her drawers she found a tiny bell that somebody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +had given her, and thought it would be a good plan +to hang that around kitty's neck by the ribbon. Kitty +made no objection to being thus decorated, and a happy +thought struck Alice; "Kitty Bell would be just the name +for her!" and Kitty Bell it was.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 323px;"> +<img src="images/illus135.png" width="323" height="400" alt="Girls and Kitty Bell" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Kitty grew very fast; and one morning, after she had got<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +to be a good-sized kitten, she came to Alice, and mewed +quite piteously. Alice gave her some milk; but Kitty Bell +was not hungry, and mewed still more. Alice could not +think what was the matter.</p> + +<p>At last Kitty Bell gave her head a shake, and put one +paw up to the ribbon on her neck, as if trying to pull it +over her head. Alice untied the ribbon, and away ran Kitty +Bell quite out of sight. In a short time she came back +with a mouse in her mouth, which she laid at Alice's feet.</p> + +<p>Do you see what had been the trouble? The bell had +frightened the mice away, so that Kitty Bell could not get +near enough to catch them.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +W.<br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>A CLEVER FOX.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">On</span> a summer day, a gentleman was lying under the +shelter of some shrubs on the banks of the River Tweed, +when he saw a large brood of ducks, which had been made +to rise on the wing by the drifting of a fir-branch among +them. After circling in the air for a little time, they again +settled down on their feeding-ground.</p> + +<p>There was a pause for two or three minutes, and then +the same thing took place again. A branch drifted down +with the stream into the midst of the ducks, and made them +take to flight once more. But when they found that the +bough had drifted by, and done no harm, they flew down +to the water as before.</p> + +<p>After four or five boughs had drifted by in this way, the +ducks gave no heed to them, and hardly tried to fly out of +their way on the stream, even when they were near to +being touched.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 322px;"> +<img src="images/illus137.png" width="322" height="400" alt="Clever fox" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The gentleman who had been observing all this now +watched for the cause of the drifting of the boughs. At +length he saw, higher up the bank of the stream, a fox, +which, having set the boughs adrift, was watching for the +moment when the ducks should cease to be startled by +them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + +<p>This wise and clever fox at last seemed satisfied that the +moment had come. So what did he do but take a larger +branch of spruce-fir than any he had yet used, and, spreading +himself down on it so as to be almost hidden from +sight, set it adrift as he had done the others!</p> + +<p>The ducks, now having ceased to fear the boughs, hardly +moved till the fox was in the midst of them, when, making +rapid snaps right and left, he seized two fine young ducks +as his prey, and floated forward in triumph on his raft. +The ducks flew off in fright, and did not come back.</p> + +<p>That fox must have had a fine dinner that day, I think. +The gentleman who saw the trick pitied the poor ducks, +but could not help laughing at the fox's cunning.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Uncle Charles.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>HOW PONTO GOT HIS DINNER.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Ponto</span> in his youth had been a very wise and active +dog. Not only had he been brave at watching, but he had +been taught to carry packages and notes for his master.</p> + +<p>But, as he grew old and feeble, he gradually got out of +the way of doing such services, and spent his time mostly +in sleeping, or in jogging about, without care.</p> + +<p>One day his mistress had told her husband, as he went to +his business in the morning, to send around the carriage at +ten o'clock. This he forgot to do; and when the hour +came, and there was no carriage, the lady knew it would +be necessary to remind her husband of his promise.</p> + +<p>But she had no one to send with a message. At last she +chanced to remember that Ponto used to go on such errands, +and, writing a note, she called him to her, and said,—</p> + +<p>"Here, Ponto, take this note to your master."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ponto took the note carefully in his mouth, but did not +seem to know what he was expected to do with it.</p> + +<p>"Go, Ponto," she said; "take the note to your master."</p> + +<p>He trotted on a little way, paused, turned and hesitated, +and then trotted a little farther. This he repeated several +times, and at last, started off at a good gait.</p> + +<p>But wise old Ponto! Did he, after so much pondering, +take the note to his master? Not a bit of it! He went +straight to the butcher's, and presented the billet, wagging +his tail at the same time, as much as to say, "Here's an +order for my dinner!"</p> + +<p>The butcher, understanding the situation, rolled up a +nice piece of meat in a paper, gave it to Ponto, and then +himself delivered the note to the gentleman.</p> + +<p>Ponto stalked home as proud as a king, laid the package +at his mistress's feet, and waited, with a delighted, expressive +wag, for her approval.</p> + +<p>Of course she gave him all the meat, patted his faithful +old head, and called him "good Ponto."</p> + +<p>The carriage came in good time; and Ponto does not +know to this day but what he did exactly as he was told.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +C. D. B.<br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>THE BUTTERFLY AND THE GRASSHOPPER.</h2> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 191px;"> +<img src="images/illus140.png" width="191" height="800" alt="Butterfly and the Grasshopper" title="" /> +</div> + + +<div class='poem'> +"<span class="smcap">Pretty</span> Butterfly, stay!<br /> +Come down here and play,"<br /> +A Grasshopper said,<br /> +As he lifted his head.<br /> +"Oh, no! and oh, no!<br /> +Daddy Grasshopper, go!<br /> +Once you weren't so polite,<br /> +But said, 'Out of my sight,<br /> +You base, ugly fright!'"<br /> +"Oh, no! and oh, no!<br /> +I never said so,"<br /> +The Grasshopper cried:<br /> +"I'd sooner have died<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>Than been half so rude.<br /> +You misunderstood."<br /> +"Oh, no! I did not;<br /> +'Twas near to this spot:<br /> +The offence, while I live,<br /> +I cannot forgive."<br /> +"I pray you explain<br /> +When and where such disdain,<br /> +Such conduct improper,<br /> +Was shown by this Hopper."<br /> +"I then was a worm:<br /> +'Tis a fact, I affirm,"<br /> +The Butterfly said,<br /> +With a toss of her head.<br /> +"In my humble condition,<br /> +Your bad disposition<br /> +Made you spurn me as mean,<br /> +And not fit to be seen.<br /> +In my day of small things<br /> +You dreamed not that wings<br /> +Might one day be mine,—<br /> +Wings handsome and fine,<br /> +That help me soar up<br /> +To the rose's full cup,<br /> +And taste of each flower<br /> +In garden and bower.<br /> +This moral now take<br /> +For your own better sake:<br /> +Insult not the low;<br /> +Some day they may grow<br /> +To seem and to do<br /> +Much better than you.<br /> +Remember; and so,<br /> +Daddy Grasshopper, go!"<br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Emily Carter.</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_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 267px;"> +<img src="images/illus141.png" width="267" height="350" alt="The Pet Pigeon" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<h2>THE PET PIGEON.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> I was about nine years old, my father and mother +were living in a Southern city; and, as I had been very ill +for a long time, I was taken from school, and permitted to +do as I liked.</p> + +<p>In one of my walks I met an old colored woman, who +took quite a fancy to me; and once, when I was sick at +home, she came to see me, bringing as a present a young +pigeon. Its feathers were not grown enough to show its +color; but it proved to be brown and white.</p> + +<p>I was very much grieved when my mother said that she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +could not have a pigeon kept in the house; but my father +persuaded her to indulge me till I was able to go out again; +and then my pet gave so little trouble that nobody objected +to him.</p> + +<p>For the first two or three weeks, he was put at night in +another room; but I begged so hard that finally "Pidgy," +as I called him, was allowed to roost on top of the wardrobe +in my bed-room.</p> + +<p>The first time he saw me asleep, he seemed very much +alarmed (so my mother told me); but he settled down on +my shoulder, and kept very quiet till I awoke. This he +always did after that morning, sometimes waiting more +than two hours. After amusing myself with him till it was +time to get up, I used to give him a large basin of water, +into which he would jump with great delight; and he would +be making his toilet while I was making mine.</p> + +<p>For two or three months I kept his wings clipped, so +that he could not fly far. When I went out for a walk, I +generally took him, either in my arms or perched on my +hand; and thus I and my pet became known all over the +neighborhood; and, when my little playmates invited me +to visit them, an invitation was always sent for "Lillie and +her pigeon."</p> + +<p>He followed me everywhere. If I was reading, he rested +on my chair; if playing on the piano, he would listen +attentively: indeed he acquired such a taste for music, +that the only time he ever seemed willing to leave me +was to perch upon the foot of a gentleman who was singing +very finely.</p> + +<p>I taught him a number of tricks, such as bringing me +any thing that he could carry, lying down very still till I +told him to get up, and running over the piano-keys to +make music for himself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> + +<p>During the two years that Pidgy and I enjoyed so much +together, he never fed from any hand but mine; and once, +when I staid from home over night, he would not eat at all, +but pecked at my mother and sister so that they were quite +provoked with him. On my return, he flew to meet me +with an angry "coo," his feathers all ruffled up, as if trying +to reprove me for my neglect.</p> + +<p>What finally became of my pet I never knew. I had +him out on the porch, one day, and, as I ran into the house +for a few minutes, the door was blown to, so that he could +not follow me. A boy caught him up, and was seen running +away with his prize. Every effort was made to find +him; but I never saw my dear little pigeon again.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Anne Page.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>EIGHTH LESSON IN ASTRONOMY.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">How</span> shall I make such little folks understand that the +sun and the stars really stand still, when they seem to take +a journey across the sky every day? Perhaps the best +way will be to make a little game of it. We will explain +it with boys.</p> + +<p>I want a boy to represent the earth, and as many as can +be found for sun and stars: there is no danger of too +many. Now, the fattest boy of all must be the earth, and +stand in the middle. We want him fat and round, because +the earth is as round as an orange. (We need not mind +about the size of the stars: they always look small, they +are so far off.)</p> + +<p>All the other boys must stand about him, and stand still. +If they are not satisfied with their places, they must not +move; for they are fixed stars. That is right. I can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +imagine you now just as you are, the fat boy in the +middle.</p> + +<p>But <i>you</i> must not stand still, fat boy, because I told the +star-boys not to move. You are the earth, and must do +what the earth does. Don't you know what it does? Oh! +it does not run away. Come back, and I will tell you what +it does. It turns around just as a top spins. That is right. +Every time the earth turns, it makes a day and a night, by +turning towards the sun, and away from it again.</p> + +<p>Don't turn so fast, my dear: you make the days and +nights too short, and you will be dizzy. Besides, you are +turning the wrong way. The earth turns from west to +east, and you must remember you are the earth, and not +Charlie. Now go the other way, and more slowly, and +keep your eyes on the little boys who are the sun and +stars.</p> + +<p>We will suppose now that Frank is the sun. There he +is just behind you. He is shining now on the other side of +the earth,—on your back. As you turn around to the +left, to the east, you begin to see him: he rises. Now, as +you turn more towards him, he seems to pass in front of +you towards the west, and pretty soon he is out of sight. +He has set. So much for the sun.</p> + +<p>It is just the same if you look at the stars,—John, or +Willie, or James. As you turn round they all seem to be +going round you. Now can't you see, that, as the real +earth turns around, the sun and stars about it seem to you +to rise and set, although they stand still, like Frank and +John and Willie and James.</p> + +<p>A great many years ago, everybody supposed that the +earth stood still, and the sun and stars revolved around it; +but a wise man named Copernicus found out the mistake, +and you had better call your game the Copernican game.</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_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 370px;"> +<img src="images/illus145.png" width="370" height="500" alt="DRAWING-LESSON BY HARRISON WEIR." title="" /> +<span class="caption">DRAWING-LESSON BY HARRISON WEIR.</span> +</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>THE FARM.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Very</span> often in summer, after looking at the sky, and consulting +the barometer, my father would say to me, "Tell +John to bring around the horse and carryall, and we will +all go out to the farm for the day." John had the horse +harnessed in a little while, mother sent out a great basket +of lunch, and in less than half an hour we were all off,—father, +mother, Dick, and I.</p> + +<p>The farm was seven miles in the country, and the road +leading to it was a fine one. There were some hills, to be +sure; but, whenever we came to one, Dick and I used to +climb out of the back-window, and hang on behind, fancying +that we lightened the load by not being inside. We always +enjoyed the ride very much.</p> + +<p>At the farm there was a pretty cottage, where the tenant +Mr. Clark lived. We used to go in for a little while to see +Mrs. Clark's babies, and then we started off in search of +adventures. What fun we did have! Sometimes there +would be great brush-heaps to burn, made of bushes and +branches of trees that had been cleared off from the land. +They made glorious bonfires.</p> + +<p>There was an old yellow horse on the farm, that used to +run the wood-sawing machine. He was blind in one eye, +but was the very gentlest horse in the world. Dick and I +would both get on him at the same time, with only the +halter to guide the horse, and go all over the farm.</p> + +<p>Now and then, in shaking himself to get rid of the flies, +Bob (the horse) would shake us both off; but he always +stopped at once when we met with such an accident, so that +we could get on again. Once, when we were riding in this +way, our horse stopped and refused to go on.</p> + +<p>On looking to see what was the matter, we saw a large<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +black snake in the road just ahead of us. Being very +reckless children, we slid off old Bob, found some heavy +sticks, and attacked the snake. First Dick struck it, and, +when it turned on him, I struck it; and so we pounded the +snake, turn and turn about, until it was killed.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus147.png" width="500" height="382" alt="Bob and the snake" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Another thing that we enjoyed very much was to go +down to the creek that ran through the farm, and put some +ears of green corn in the water close by the edge. We +would then keep very still, and watch the corn, and, as soon +as we saw it move a little, we would give it a sudden slap +out of the water, and would almost always succeed in landing +one or two crawfish. We dug wells in the sand, which +we would fill with water to put our crawfish in. Sometimes +we would have a dozen or more.</p> + +<p>It would have been great fun to wade in the creek, but +for one thing: there were sand-leeches in the water, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +they would get between our toes, and bite so firmly into the +flesh, that we could hardly get them off.</p> + +<p>A great event in the day was lunch, which we ate in +picnic style on the ground near the spring. We were +always so hungry, that the simplest food seemed delicious. +I don't think we were ever very fond of bread and butter +anywhere else. By night we were very tired, and generally +went sound asleep on the way home.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +A.<br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>THE DRAWING-MASTER.</h2> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 260px;"> +<img src="images/illus148.png" width="260" height="300" alt="THE DRAWING-MASTER" title="" /> +</div> +<p><span class="smcap">Our</span> Peter has opened a +school for teaching drawing. +At present he has +only two pupils; but he +hopes to have more. They +pay him two pins a lesson; +not a high price. I fear +that Peter will not get rich +very soon at that rate.</p> + + + +<p>But he is no miser. He +loves to do good, and to +teach to others all the good +he knows. So he says to +Tom and Harry, "This +that I am drawing now is what we call a horizontal line; +and this is a curved line. Do you know what a circle is, +Tommy?"</p> + +<p>"A circle is something round, isn't it?" replies Tommy.</p> + +<p>"A circle," says Peter, drawing one on paper,—"a +circle is a plane figure, bounded by a single curved line<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +called its circumference, every part of which is equally +distant from a point within it called the centre."</p> + +<p>"How can I remember all that stuff?" said Harry.</p> + +<p>"Stuff! Do you call it <i>stuff</i>, sir?" said Peter, snapping +him twice on his closely-shorn head: "I will teach you not +to call my definitions <i>stuff</i>."</p> + +<p>"What's a definition?" asked Tommy.</p> + +<p>"A definition," said Peter, "is what I say to you when I +tell you what a thing means. If I ask you what <i>green</i> is, +and I tell you it's the color of fresh summer grass, I give +you a definition."</p> + +<p>"School is out!" cried Harry. "Peter uses too many +big words for us. Hallo! there's Bob, the butcher's dog. +I'm going to have a frolic with him. Good-by, drawing-master!"</p> + +<p>And so the school was broken up. "Never did I see boys +behave so in school-time," said the teacher.</p> + +<p>I hope his pupils will be more attentive the next time he +tries to teach them how to draw.</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> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/illus149.png" width="350" height="256" 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_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus150.png" width="500" height="95" alt="Decoration" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<h2>LITTLE MOSQUITO.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">Little</span> Mosquito she sits on a sill,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Whee, whee, whee!</span><br /> +And longs for the time when the people are still,<br /> +That she, in the darkness, may stab them at will,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Whee, whee, whee!</span><br /> +<br /> +She whets up her dagger, and looks at the moon,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Whee, whee, whee!</span><br /> +She says to herself, "I'll begin pretty soon<br /> +To look for my victims, and sing them a tune,"—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Whee, whee, whee!</span><br /> +<br /> +With a hum and a flutter, the way to prepare,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Whee, whee, whee!</span><br /> +She rises and circles about in the air;<br /> +Then settles herself with a great deal of care,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Whee, whee, whee!</span><br /> +<br /> +But one,—more awake than he seeks to appear,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Whee, whee, whee!</span><br /> +Slaps little Mosquito, alight on his ear,<br /> +And thus puts an end to her hopeful career,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Whee, whee, whee!</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Fleta F.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 323px;"> +<img src="images/illus151.png" width="323" height="400" alt="Learning to Iron" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<h2>LEARNING TO IRON.</h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Now</span> I've had my lesson in my 'Nursery Primer,'" +said little five-year-old Ellen, "and I want to learn to +iron clothes."</p> + +<p>"You are rather too young to be trusted with a flat-iron," +said her mother: "you might burn your fingers."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll promise not to cry if I do," said Ellen. "Please +let me go out and help Patience iron, mamma."</p> + +<p>Mamma at last gave her consent; and our picture of +Ellen and Patience at work at the ironing-board gives about +as good likenesses of the two as their reflections in a mirror +could have given.</p> + +<p>Ellen saw how Patience used her flat-iron, and then used +hers in the same way. She ironed a towel so well, that +Patience praised her, and said she could not have done it +better herself.</p> + +<p>But, as she was trying to put a flat-iron on the stove, +Ellen burnt her fingers so as to make her hop. She did not +cry; for she remembered her promise. Patience wet a +cloth with cold water, and put it on the burn; then she +remembered that common brown soap was the best thing +for a burn, so she spread some soap on a cotton rag and put +that on. Soon the pain was gone, and Ellen ran and told +her mother what had happened.</p> + +<p>"You should not have tried to put the flat-iron on the +stove," said her mother. "If your clothes had caught fire, +you might have had a bad time."</p> + +<p>"Would my dress have blazed up?" asked Ellen.</p> + +<p>"I take care to dip your clothes in a weak solution of +nitre before they are worn; for that prevents their blazing, +even if they should catch fire," said mamma. "But +you must not let that keep you from taking great care."</p> + +<p>"Next Tuesday may I take another lesson in ironing?" +asked Ellen.</p> + +<p>"Yes: if you say your lessons well during the week, you +shall not only learn to iron your clothes, but to wash +them."</p> + +<p>"That will be fun!" cried Ellen, clapping her hands, +and quite forgetting her burnt finger.</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> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 234px;"> +<img src="images/illus153.png" width="234" height="350" alt="Birdie and Baby" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<h2>BIRDIE AND BABY.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Birdie</span> is a canary-bird of pale gold color. Tiny as he is, +he is quite old compared with baby.</p> + +<p>He was the sole pet of the house long before baby came +into the world, and he did as much as any bird could to fill +a baby's place.</p> + +<p>All the bright hours of the day, the door of his cage stood +open. He would fly to Aunt Minnie's shoulder while she +sat sewing, and sing his sweetest notes for her, or perch on +her finger and take the bit of fresh lettuce she brought for +him from the table.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> + +<p>But after baby came—can you believe it?—this dear +little birdie behaved just like a spoiled child. He rolled +himself up into a soft yellow ball, and actually moped.</p> + +<p>Not a note would he sing. Aunt Minnie could not coax +him with green leaf or seed. He would insist on making +himself unhappy until baby was taken out for an airing. +Then he would burst into song again, and seem to feel that +he was in his old place,—the only treasure.</p> + +<p>It was a long time before the poor little bird found out +that Aunt Minnie's heart was large enough to love him and +her precious baby too. But he is learning it now, and +likes to have baby held up to his cage.</p> + +<p>When Aunt Minnie lets him out into the room, he hops +close by the baby; and baby laughs, and stretches out his +dimpled hands to catch him; but he is wise enough to keep +out of baby's way.</p> + +<p>Don't you think it is nice for Aunt Minnie to have such +treasures?</p> + +<div class='sig'> +E. P. B.<br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>A NAUGHTY BABY.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">He's</span> a very naughty baby,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For he will not shut his eyes</span><br /> +And go to sleep, though I have done<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My best to hush his cries.</span><br /> +I've trotted him, I've patted him,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I've given him some food;</span><br /> +But nothing that I do for him<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will do him any good.</span><br /> +<br /> +I've sung a little lullaby,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The one that mother sings;</span><br /> +One that to weary little ones,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sweet slumber, always brings.</span><br /> +I've scolded him, I've shaken him,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All sorts of things I've tried;</span><br /> +But the naughty, noisy baby-man<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will not be pacified.</span><br /> +<br /> +He screams so loud he frightens me;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He's getting worse and worse.</span><br /> +I do wish mother would come home,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or get this boy a nurse.</span><br /> +I'll toss him up, I'll tumble him,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Play "creep-mouse," and "bo-peep,"</span><br /> +Perhaps if I can make him laugh,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The laugh will make him sleep.</span><br /> +<br /> +You naughty, naughty baby,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How could you vex me so?</span><br /> +One would not think you ever cried,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To hear you laugh and crow!</span><br /> +Hush, hush! He's getting tired out:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now very still I'll keep;</span><br /> +There's nothing like a hearty romp,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To put a child to sleep!</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> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>BOYS AND RABBITS.</h2> + +<div class='story'> +<p><span class="smcap">Here</span> are two little boys and +two little rabbits, all down on +the ground.</p> + +<p>The two boys are just the +same age. They are twin +brothers. Their names are +Paul and John.</p> + +<p>The girl who stands near +them is their sister Jane. She +is quite a little girl, as you +see; but she is full three years +older than the boys: so she +takes great care of them.</p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 315px;"> +<img src="images/illus157.png" width="315" height="425" alt="Growing every day" title="" /> +</div> +<p>You would laugh to see Paul +and John try to lift their rabbits +by the ears. The rabbits look +most as large as the boys. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157"><small>[157]</small></a></span> +the boys are growing larger +and stronger every day.</p> +</div> + + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">A. B. C.</span><br /> +</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>TOBACCO AND EGG.</h2> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 214px;"> +<img src="images/illus158.png" width="214" height="300" alt="Tobacco and Egg" title="" /> +</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Our</span> house had a long back +piazza, covered all over with +grape-vines, with steps going +down to the yard.</p> + + +<p>I discovered that by standing +on my tip-toes, half way +up the steps, I could see into +the next yard, where there +grew such different flowers +from ours, and where there +often came a little girl of six +or seven—about my own age—to +gather bouquets.</p> + +<p>She did not see me at first: +so, for many days, I quietly +watched the stout little figure. During one of my observations, +her mother called her, and such a name as she had! +The call, as I heard it, was "Tobacco, my daughter!"</p> + +<p>I felt deeply for the girl who was afflicted by such a +name. I determined to throw her the finest bunch of +grapes on our vine by way of consolation.</p> + +<p>Some days after, when I was giving my large family of +dolls an airing in the garden, I saw a small face staring at +me just over the top of the fence. Being familiar with the +position myself, I was not alarmed, but hastened to mount +to the same level on my side, and offer some grapes.</p> + +<p>After a long stare on the part of both of us, I timidly +broke the silence by asking, "What is your name?"</p> + +<p>"Rebecca," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Why," I said, "I was pitying you all this time, thinking +you were called Tobacco."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" she cried, "it is not so bad as that. You +have a funny name, though. I have often wondered how +you came to have such a name. Perhaps you were born +on Easter-Monday, or were very fond of eggs."</p> + +<p>"What can you mean?" I replied. "I don't see any +thing funny about my name: I am told it is pretty."</p> + +<p>"Well, I should not call it pretty exactly," she giggled: +"it always makes me feel hungry."</p> + +<p>"Hungry?" I was trying to be friendly; but I did +feel slightly offended at this. At last, just as tears of +vexation were rising to my eyes, I thought of asking, +"What do you think my name is?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Egg, of course."</p> + +<p>"Oh the idea of such a thing!" We both laughed till +we nearly fell off our perches. As soon as I was sober +enough, I made haste to explain that my name was Agnes, +but that my brothers and sisters called me "Ag." It must +have been "Ag" that she heard, and thought it was Egg.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Agnes.</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: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus159.png" width="400" height="252" alt="ANCIENT ARMOR." title="" /> +<span class="caption">ANCIENT ARMOR.</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_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus160.png" width="500" height="220" alt="The Apple Tree" title="" /> +</div> + + +<h2>THE APPLE TREE.</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +Words by <span class="smcap">Clara D. Bates</span>. Music by <span class="smcap">T. Crampton</span>.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus160-music.png" width="500" height="561" 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/nov77.mid">here</a>.]</small><br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +1. Up in the apple tree,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">See the rosy cheeks:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">See the balls that look like gold:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">See the crimson streaks.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the lovely autumn day,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bright as in the bloom of May,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Filled with fruit and fair to see,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is the apple tree.</span><br /> +<br /> +2. Under the apple tree,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">See the rosy cheeks:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Little Jinx the baby boy;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What is it he seeks?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ah! his tiny teeth are white,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And are eager for a bite,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Such a tempting store to see,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is the apple tree.</span><br /> +<br /> +3. Under the apple tree,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Other rosy cheeks:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Edith, Mabel, Golden-Locks:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Full of merry freaks,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Here they run and there they run,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shouting merrily if one</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fallen in the group they see,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the apple tree.</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 150, single quotation mark changed to double (them a tune,")</p> + +<p>Page 159, double quotation mark added to text (fond of eggs.")</p></div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Nursery, November 1877, Vol. XXII. +No. 5, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, NOVEMBER 1877 *** + +***** This file should be named 28139-h.htm or 28139-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/1/3/28139/ + +Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. 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