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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:37:32 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:37:32 -0700 |
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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/28141-h.zip b/28141-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f959c2e --- /dev/null +++ b/28141-h.zip diff --git a/28141-h/28141-h.htm b/28141-h/28141-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8df3a64 --- /dev/null +++ b/28141-h/28141-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1638 @@ +<!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, February 1878, Vol. XXIII., 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, February 1878, Vol. XXIII, 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, February 1878, Vol. XXIII, No. 2 + A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 20, 2009 [EBook #28141] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, FEBRUARY 1878 *** + + + + +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 XXIII.—No. 2.<br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>Contents.</h2> + + +<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'>Ebony and Lucy</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Daisy</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>My First Attempt at Fishing</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>New Method of Catching Mice</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Jamie Canfield's Sand-Heap</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Dick's Dream</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_47">47</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'>Romeo the Shirk</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tied Not Mated</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>My Kitten</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Lesson in Flying</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>How Little Edith Went to Sleep </td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_62">62</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'>The Terrible Trio</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Shy Little Pansy</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Song for Baby</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Three Little Chicks</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mother's Last Look</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"Lullaby!"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Blow, Blow, East Wind (<i>with music</i>) </td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td></tr> +</table></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="353" alt="VOL. XXIII.—No. 2." 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_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> +<h2>EBONY AND LUCY.</h2> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 119px;"> +<img src="images/illus034.png" width="119" height="125" alt="E" title="" /> +</div><div class='unindent'><br /><br />BONY is the name of Lucy's black dog. I will +leave you to guess why he is so called.</div> + +<p>On a bright, cold winter day, when no wind +was stirring, and the ice of the pond was +smooth as glass, Lucy went out, followed by +Ebony. Such joyful barking as there was!</p> + +<p>Her father knew that the good dog would pull her out of +the water, if the ice should break through. But the day +was so cold, there was little danger from thin ice.</p> + +<p>A bright idea occurred to Lucy when she had put on her +skates. She had scarfs and handkerchiefs with her, and, +tying three or four of these together, she made a noose, +which she threw over Ebony's head. Thus she held him, so +that he could pull her on her skates over the ice.</p> + +<p>"Now, Ebony, let us see how fast you can go," said Lucy. +Ebony started at a full gallop; and she began to sing,—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"We issue no tickets, we close no gate,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">We blow no whistle, and nobody's late;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Our train is off as soon as we're in it;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">We go at the rate of ten miles a minute,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">(And that is six hundred miles an hour!)—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">For ours is an engine of one-dog power;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">But that dog's Ebony, bold and fleet,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">A dog, you'll find, that is hard to beat:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">So look out, stragglers and tramps! I guess</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">You'd better not trifle with our express!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Hardly had Lucy finished her song, when Ebony, who +had been going at great speed for some distance, slipped on +his haunches, where the ice was very smooth, and, sliding +along, fell over on his side.</p> + +<p>Lucy fell too, but she was not hurt. "You good Ebony,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +said she. "You have done well. But it is too bad to +make you play the part of a locomotive engine. And +so, old fellow, I will take off your harness, and let you go +free."</p> + +<p>Then Lucy took the scarf from the dog's neck, and darted +off alone on her skates to a part of the pond where her +brother Felix had just had a tumble on the ice.</p> + +<p>But Ebony would not forsake her. He kept close at her +heels; for he knew there was water underneath the ice, +and he meant to be near at hand, should any accident +happen. I am glad to say, that, after a good frolic on the +ice, they reached home safely in time for dinner.</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/illus035.png" width="350" height="246" alt="Terrible Trio" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<h2>THE TERRIBLE TRIO.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">These</span> are the robbers,—the terrible three!<br /> +In showing no mercy they all agree;<br /> +They fill the woods with their war-whoops dire:<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>Policemen and soldiers, beware, retire!<br /> +<br /> +Rinaldo's the name of the captain: you learn<br /> +His rank from his cap, and his frown so stern.<br /> +The next is Grimaldi, a desperate fellow!<br /> +His eyes they are blue, and his hair it is yellow.<br /> +<br /> +The youngest but dreadfulest of them all<br /> +Has a terrible name that I cannot recall:<br /> +'Tis hard to pronounce; and it's well, perhaps,<br /> +That memory here has suffered a lapse.<br /> +<br /> +Oh! doesn't it make you all shudder to look<br /> +At their likenesses even, all here in a book?—<br /> +Rinaldo the fierce, and Grimaldi the grim,<br /> +And that young, nameless bandit, so bold and so trim.<br /> +<br /> +But if you should meet with this terrible band,<br /> +Now don't run away, but come quick to a stand:<br /> +Be humble and quiet, and don't act amiss,<br /> +And all that they'll rob you of, will be—a kiss!<br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Ida Fay.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/illus036.png" width="350" height="195" 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_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus037.png" width="500" height="377" alt="Daisy" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<h2>DAISY.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">A friend</span> of mine, Mr. S., had a beautiful colt named +Daisy, who was the pet of all the family. She was so tame +she would put her head in at the open windows to see what +was going on in the house; and very often, when she saw +the front-door open, she would go up the steps of the +piazza, and deliberately march into the hall. No one ever +struck Daisy with a whip, or even a switch. A little slap +of the hand, and a "Go out, Daisy," were all that were +necessary.</p> + +<p>Mrs. S. had a new cook; and one day she set a pan of +custard on the back-porch to cool. When she went out to +get it, an hour or two after, she found nothing but the empty +pan. Molly ran to Mrs. S. in great distress, and told her of +the loss of the custard. "Ah!" said Mrs. S., "then Daisy +has eaten it." And, sure enough, Daisy was the thief.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>Another time the naughty colt put her head in the kitchen-window, +and ate up some apple-pies that were on the table. +All this was very bad indeed, but Daisy was always forgiven +because she was so lovely and gentle. She would follow +any of the family about the grounds, and rub her head +against them to show how much she loved them.</p> + +<p>One day a man came to Mr. S.'s house to make a visit. +He was not in the habit of visiting the family, and so had +not made Daisy's acquaintance. After tea, Mr. S. and his +visitor were standing on the piazza, when Daisy came trotting +up, as she always did when she saw one of the family +there, and opened her mouth, expecting Mr. S. to put a +piece of bread or apple in. The stranger did not understand +this little trick, and (coarse man that he was!) spat a +quantity of tobacco-juice into Daisy's face. Poor little +Daisy! She hung her head down, and walked off under the +trees, where she stood looking very miserable.</p> + +<p>The next morning Mr. S. asked his visitor to walk with +him through his grounds; and, as they were walking along, +they passed a place where Daisy, who still looked as if she +felt insulted and injured, was quietly grazing.</p> + +<p>As soon as she saw her enemy (as she must have considered +him), she pricked up her ears as if some happy idea +had come into her head. She gave herself a little shake, +and, walking behind him until she was quite near, suddenly +wheeled around, and gave a kick that would have broken +some of his bones, if he had not jumped out of the way just +in time to escape her heels.</p> + +<p>As it was, he was very much frightened, and looked very +mean; for he knew that a kick was just what he deserved +for his vulgarity and insolence.</p> + +<p>Daisy had never been known to kick at anybody before, +and she never kicked anybody afterwards.</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> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>THE FAMOUS MOZART BAND.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> famous Mozart Band, as everybody ought to know, +was formed in our village. It has serenaded almost every +family on the street; and there is no end to the money (in +the form of beans and smooth stones) that has been poured +into the hat carried round by Miss Amy, the youngest +member.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus039.png" width="500" height="335" alt="Mozart Band" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The band is composed of five members, whose names are +Charles, Edwin, Susan, Bella, and Amy. Charles was the +founder of the band. While on a visit to his uncle in the +city, he had seen a strolling band of men in the street, who +played finely on trumpets and flutes. He resolved to form +a band at home, and to call it the Mozart Band.</p> + +<p>But why call it the Mozart? Well, Mozart was a wonderful +musical genius, who could compose music when he +was five years old, and who astonished all Germany by his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +skill and aptness as a performer. So Charles decided on +calling his band the Mozart Band.</p> + +<p>At great expense I have obtained a drawing of the members +of the Mozart Band. Charles (first drum) is the leader; +Edwin (second drum) is next in rank; Amy (trumpet) is +the next, for she owns the trumpet, and so comes before the +other two ladies, who are merely vocal performers, by which +I mean singers.</p> + +<p>Now, if you want to hear the famous Mozart Band, you +must come to our village. Performances take place every +Wednesday and Saturday afternoon, and sometimes oftener. +If you come, you must bring some money to put into Amy's +hat; for the band cannot afford to play for nothing. They +are getting to be so famous that I should not wonder if they +were to have an invitation soon to come on to New York +or Boston, and give a concert in one of the large halls.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Aunt Cecilia.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT FISHING.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> I was seven years old, my father took me down to +the river to fish. I had a nice new line, and a little hook +that I bought of a peddler the week before. My father cut +me a pole from the woods near by; and I caught a grasshopper +for bait.</p> + +<p>I tried to put the grasshopper on the hook, but I pricked +my finger: so my father put it on for me. Then I threw +in my line, and kept moving it up and down.</p> + +<p>Pretty soon I thought I felt a bite, and called out to my +father, "O father, I've got a fish!" I pulled it up, and +what do you think I had caught? You could not guess in +a week. It was my sister's old rag baby.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Frank Lynn.</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_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus041.png" width="400" height="495" alt="Shy Little Pansy" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<h2>SHY LITTLE PANSY.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +"<span class="smcap">Why</span> so shy, my Pansy,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tell me why so shy?</span><br /> +Mother's arms are round thee;<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">This is grandma by.</span><br /> +She can tell you stories<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the time, my dear,</span><br /> +When she was a little girl<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Just like Pansy here.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Once there was a dolly,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And its name was Bess;</span><br /> +Grandma then, like Pansy,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was—how old? Now guess!</span><br /> +Just the age of Pansy!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Well, one night, you see"—</span><br /> +"Grandma," said the little girl,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Take me on your knee."</span><br /> +<br /> +Pansy's shyness melted;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grandma won the day:</span><br /> +Now hugged tight in grandma's arms<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Little Pansy lay;</span><br /> +And she heard a story<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of a doll so fine,</span><br /> +Left out on the cold, cold ground,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where no sun could shine.</span><br /> +<br /> +And the snow fell slowly,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Softly fell, like down,</span><br /> +Till a heap of drifted flakes<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Covered dolly's gown.</span><br /> +Yes, it hid and covered<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All the bright blue dress,</span><br /> +Then her hair and rosy cheeks—<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poor forsaken Bess!</span><br /> +<br /> +Dolly's little mother<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hunted for her child;</span><br /> +But no trace of her was seen<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till the air grew mild.</span><br /> +When the snow was melted,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There was dolly found,</span><br /> +With her silken dress all soiled<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the muddy ground.</span><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> +<h2>NEW METHOD OF CATCHING MICE.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Perhaps</span> some of your youthful readers will be glad to +know how I catch mice. If you think so, you are at liberty +to publish the following; for I do not intend to apply for a +patent.</p> + +<p>One evening last week we made some molasses candy; +and, as too much of it, eaten before going to bed, is not good +for the teeth, I spread some on a baking-tin, and set it away +to cool for the next day.</p> + +<p>It was not cooked enough to harden thoroughly; and a +little mouse had the curiosity to taste it; but, the moment +his feet touched it, they stuck fast, and he could not get +away.</p> + +<p>His cries for help brought two other mice to his assistance; +but they shared the same fate, the molasses candy +holding all three prisoners.</p> + +<p>When I found them the next morning, all three were +stuck fast. This shows what a useful thing molasses candy +is to have in a house, and is a warning to all mice not to +meddle with it.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Arthur F. Corbin.</span><br /> +</div> +<p><span class="smcap">Gouverneur, N.Y.</span><br /></p> + +<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_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>A SONG FOR BABY.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">Nuts</span> for all the baby-birds<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the merry budding spring;</span><br /> +Roses, where the dusty bees<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">May sip and cling.</span><br /> +<br /> +Shade for all the pretty lambs<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That in the summer stray;</span><br /> +Hedges, where the crickets chirp<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their time away.</span><br /> +<br /> +Holes, where nimble squirrels hide<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When autumn hours are chill;</span><br /> +Heaping barns, where horse and cow<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have shelter still.</span><br /> +<br /> +Homes for rabbit, mouse, and mole,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When winter strews the ground;</span><br /> +But mother's arms for baby dear<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The whole year round!</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">George Cooper.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus044.png" width="500" height="203" 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_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus045.png" width="500" height="373" alt="Jamie Canfield's Sand-heap" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<h2>JAMIE CANFIELD'S SAND-HEAP.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Jamie Canfield</span> is a three-year-old boy who lives in +Lawrence, Kansas, the prettiest town in the State. He and +Freddy Bassett, a four-year-old neighbor, love to play in +the dirt; and their mammas allow them to do it, because it +is so healthy.</p> + +<p>It certainly has proved to be so in Jamie's case; for he +was quite pale and delicate in the spring, and now he is +brown and rugged, and ready to eat all the food he can get. +But dear me! he used to get so dirty!</p> + +<p>What was the use of washing him, and putting on clean +dresses and aprons, when he was constantly throwing aside +his other playthings, and making mud pies, or carting earth +in his little red wagon?</p> + +<p>His papa laughed and said, "Oh, never mind! Dirt is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +good for him." But mamma thought it was not very good +for his clothes; and, besides, she wanted him to be clean +enough to kiss without being washed every time he came +into the house.</p> + +<p>So she said one day to his papa, "James, I think it +would be a good idea to get a load of sand for Jamie to play +in. It will at least be cleaner than that dust-heap."</p> + +<p>That very day up came a load of yellow, shining sand. +It was heaped into a shady corner by mamma's bedroom-door, +and Jamie and Freddy dived into it at once.</p> + +<p>They made pies; they dug holes, and filled them with +water for wells; they made mountains with caves in their +sides, and every thing else they could think of. When +dinner-time came, Jamie had to be coaxed away from his +sand-heap; and mamma said she believed he would sleep +in it, if he were allowed to.</p> + +<p>After dinner, as soon as he waked from his nap, he went +straight to his sand again. Freddy was there before him; +and soon Minnie Rich, a little girl eleven years old, came +out, and played with them.</p> + +<p>She knew how to work sand better than any of them. +First she wet it. Then she made a house with holes in the +sides for doors and windows, and a chip for a chimney. +Then she made a smooth lawn in front of the house, and +some hills and valleys in the rear, fenced in a yard, and set +out some flowers.</p> + +<p>The boys were delighted; and mamma went to the door +more than once to look at the plantation, as Jamie called +it, before it was finished. It was really quite a pretty +thing, and Jamie declared his intention of keeping it just as +it was. But the hot sun dried the sand, so that the house +crumbled away; and the two boys were soon digging and +shovelling in their own way as before.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Jamie's Mamma.</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_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 258px;"> +<img src="images/illus047.png" width="258" height="350" alt="Spider" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<h2>DICK'S DREAM.</h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Yes</span>, step right down upon me, and kill me, if you +like," said Mrs. Tarantula to Dick, as they met at the schoolhouse +door. "This is a hard world, Dick Adams, and I am +about tired of living in it.</p> + +<p>"You don't know what a fine home I once had! It was +in that clay mound; and, when I had dug me a hole fully a +foot deep and an inch across, my jaws and my eight legs +were quite tired out. I left some small stones on the side +for stairs: I lined the hole with brown silk next to the dirt, +and with white satin inside, both of which I spun and wove +on the spot.</p> + +<p>"My nice round lid fitted so snug and even, that I thought +no one but myself ever could find my house. But, last +week, your brother Will's sharp eyes spied the round ring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +that marks my nest; and he went and tore the lid from its +hinges, and left my hundred and ten children without a roof +to cover their heads. <i>How I would like to bite that boy!</i></p> + +<p>"I found the lid, and tried to fasten it down again; but +a heavy shower came up, and I could not fix it in the rain. +Then my husband came over from his house. You know +our husbands never live with the rest of the family. They +are too cross and get too hungry at times.</p> + +<p>"We were not on very good terms; for, some time before, +when he thought I was away from home, he tried to get +into my house. I heard him, and, running up stairs, I put +my claws in the two little holes in the lining of the lid, and +braced myself so that he could not pry open the lid. He +said he only wanted to pay me a visit; but I knew he was +hungry, and wanted to eat up our children.</p> + +<p>"But now he spoke very kindly to me, and told me that +my lid could not be fixed on; but, as my children were now +old enough to care for themselves, I had better go home +with him. I went to his house to talk it over and forgot to +give the children their supper, and tell them to work for +themselves after this.</p> + +<p>"My husband told me a few days after that my boys and +girls got into a fight, and, before they quit, ate each other +up; but he was away from home for two days, and looked +very full when he came back.</p> + +<p>"He may have told the truth; but I can't see how one of +my little ones could eat the other one hundred and nine, +and then swallow himself too."</p> + +<p>This is what Dick Adams dreamed that a tarantula said to +him. He had seen one on his way to school, and what the +teacher told him about the insect had interested him so +much that he found himself dreaming about it all night.</p> +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">C. M. Drake.</span><br /> +</div> +<p><span class="smcap">San Diego, Cal.</span><br /></p> + +<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_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 373px;"> +<img src="images/illus049.png" width="373" 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>THREE LITTLE CHICKS.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">Three</span> little chicks, so downy and neat,<br /> +Went out in search of something to eat:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ter-wit, ter-weet!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Something to eat!</span><br /> +And soon they picked up a straw of wheat.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 425px;"> +<img src="images/illus050.png" width="425" height="390" alt="Three little chicks" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class='poem'> +Said one little chick, "That belongs to me!"<br /> +Said the other little chick, "We'll see, we'll see!"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">"Ter-wit, ter-weet!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">It is nice and sweet,"</span><br /> +Said number three: "let us share the treat!"<br /> +<br /> +One little chick seized the straw in his bill,<br /> +And was just preparing to eat his fill,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">When the other chick</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Stepped up so quick,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>He hadn't a chance for a picnic pick.<br /> +<br /> +They pulled, and they tugged, the downy things;<br /> +And, oh, how they flapped their baby wings!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">"Ter-wit, ter-weet!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Something to eat!</span><br /> +Just please let go of this bit of wheat!"<br /> +<br /> +Fiercer and fiercer the battle grew,<br /> +Until the straw broke right in two,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And the little chicks</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Were in a fix,</span><br /> +And sorry enough for their naughty tricks.<br /> +<br /> +For a saucy crow has watched the fight,<br /> +And laughs, "Haw, haw! It serves you right!"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">So he snatches the prize</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">From before their eyes,</span><br /> +And over the hills, and away, he flies!<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>ROMEO THE SHIRK.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Sixty</span> years ago, when grandpa was a boy, he had a dog +called Romeo, who was made to do the work of churning +butter. I never saw a churn that went by dog-power; but +it must have been a clumsy affair.</p> + +<p>The task could not have been an agreeable one, and I do +not wonder that Romeo did not like it. One morning, when +the churn was taken out, and the cream was all ready to be +made into butter, there was no Romeo to be found. Long +and loud were the calls made for him; but he did not +answer to his name.</p> + +<p>The churning was done that day without his help. Nothing +was seen of him until just before dark, when he came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +into the house with the air of a prodigal son. He did not +walk up like an honest dog to get his supper, but slunk +under a table.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus052.png" width="500" height="369" alt="Romeo" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The family had agreed to neither chide him nor caress +him; but grandfather, who was then a little boy, slyly +carried him some supper. Romeo ate it greedily, but +looked unhappy all the time as though he knew he had done +wrong. It was plain that his conscience was smiting him.</p> + +<p>The next week, when churning-time came, Romeo did not +try to get away. He stood by watching while the cream +was made ready; and, when his master whistled for him to +take his place at the churn, he came forward, wagging his +tail, as much as to say, "I am not going to be a shirk. I +was not half so happy the day I ran away as I should have +been if I had done my work cheerfully. I will never be +caught shirking again." And he never was.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Daisy's Mamma.</span><br /> +</div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</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: 390px;"> +<img src="images/illus053.png" width="390" height="400" alt="Mother's Last Look" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<h2>MOTHER'S LAST LOOK.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">They're</span> asleep,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So I'll keep</span><br /> +Very still, and peep:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not too bright,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Candle-light</span><br /> +Is for them to night.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Saturday</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Makes them gay,</span><br /> +And they've had their play:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sled and shout</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have, no doubt,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>Tired them fairly out.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Once in bed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Prayers were said</span><br /> +By each curly-head:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But, before</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Half was o'er,</span><br /> +They saw slumber-shore.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Darlings! may</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Angels stay,</span><br /> +Bless and for you pray!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">May their love,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like a dove,</span><br /> +Watch you from above!<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> +<h2>TIED, NOT MATED.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">One</span> fine summer day, Master Fritz took his mother's +greyhound, Leda, and his father's spaniel, Neptune, out for +a run. They were quite ready for a frolic, for they had +been tied up in the barn all the forenoon, and had been +longing for Fritz to come.</p> + +<p>So off they went; and, after they had gone some distance, +Fritz thought it would be fine fun, as he had in his pocket a +piece of string, to tie the two dogs together, and play they +were a span of horses.</p> + +<p>No sooner had he got them well tied than some one called +him, and off he ran, leaving the two dogs tied, but not +mated. They roamed about a while over the fields and +meadows, till they came to the pond.</p> + +<p>Now, the dogs could not talk in our language; but they +made certain noises, which meant, I think, just this: "Here's +a chance for a fine swim!" cried Neptune. "Come, Leda, +the water is nice and cool."</p> + +<p>"I'd rather not go in," said Leda. "I'm not a very +good swimmer, and I easily take cold. Pray don't drag +me in. Come back and have a race in the meadow."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus055.png" width="500" height="361" alt="Tied" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Oh, it's too fine, too fine!" barked Neptune; and he +began to lap up water with his tongue.</p> + +<p>Leda pulled back, and cried, "Oh, don't!"</p> + +<p>But the temptation was too great for Neptune. In he +pulled poor Leda, and swam about with her till she was +chilled through.</p> + +<p>Fritz's father, Mr. Pitman, passing that way, saw the dogs, +and called them out. Glad enough was Leda to get on dry +land. She shivered; but Neptune shook himself till he +drenched her all over.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Pitman untied the dogs, and, taking some dry +grass, gave Leda a good rubbing till she felt warm and +brisk.</p> + +<p>Then she began to bark at Neptune, and to caper round +him, as much as to say, "Did you not serve me a pretty +trick, sir? But I shall not let Master Fritz tie me to you +again. Never, never!"</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Alfred Selwyn.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>MY KITTEN.</h2> + +<div class='story'> +<p><span class="smcap">I want</span> to tell you about my +kitten, and some of her funny +ways. She is black and white, +and her name is Beauty.</p> + +<p>I have great sport making +her run up and down the room +after my ball. But a little piece +of string is the best plaything +for her. She will jump right up +on my shoulder to catch it.</p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 356px;"> +<img src="images/illus057.png" width="356" height="475" alt="My Kitten" title="" /> +</div> +<p>If I throw a newspaper on +the floor, she will jump upon it, +and tear holes in it, making +believe that she hears a mouse +under it. This she seems to do +to amuse me; for, as soon as I +stop looking at her, she will go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"><small>[57]</small></a></span> +away and lie down. But she is +growing fast, and soon will be +a grave old cat.</p> +</div> + + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Viola Day.</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_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus058.png" width="500" height="283" alt="A Lesson in Flying" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="smcap">Birds</span> have their trials as well as little boys and girls. +To be sure they don't have to stand in a line, and shout +"Twice one are two" at the top of their voices; but they +have to learn to fly, and I think it very likely that they +take singing-lessons, although I am not sure as to that.</p> + +<p>One day last summer I was picking flowers in the woods, +when, happening to look up, what should I see perched on +a twig just in front of me but a cunning little bird!</p> + +<p>At first I kept very quiet, lest I should frighten him away; +but, as he showed no sign of moving, I ventured nearer and +nearer, until I even covered him with my hand.</p> + +<p>"Why, dear me! he's nothing but a baby-bird, and can't +fly," I said to myself; and then I sat down on a mossy +mound near by, and waited; for I knew the mother-bird was +not far off, and I wanted to see what was going on.</p> + +<p>It was not long before I heard a gentle whirr in the leaves +overhead, and, looking up, saw two birds circling around the +twig, but at some distance above it. Then one of them, +the mother, of course, drew nearer and nearer in smaller +and smaller circles, at the same time calling to her baby in +encouraging little chirps.</p> + +<p>Birdie on his perch seemed very much excited, turning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +his head from one side to the other in the cunningest way. +But when his mother came close to him, only to dart off and +call on him to follow, he looked so disappointed that I really +felt as if I must comfort him.</p> + +<p>The mother came back very soon and resumed her lesson +in flying, and very hard work she found it too, for the little +fellow was timid and refused to follow her, in spite of all +her coaxing and scolding. After working a long while, she +flew off, leaving her baby trembling on his perch. I pitied +the poor little fellow, he seemed so forlorn and helpless.</p> + +<p>The little bird, left to himself, got tired at last of staying +where he was, and made one or two efforts to fly. He +flapped his wings, rounded up his back until he looked like +a ball of down, and leaned forward, as much as to say, +"I'll do it now." But when he saw the awful distance +between himself and the ground, his courage failed him, and +he clung to his perch more tightly than ever.</p> + +<p>After a while the mother-bird came back, bringing a large +bug which she used as a bribe for her timid birdling, holding +it under his very bill, and then darting off in the hope that +he would follow. The youngster chirped for the bug, but +he would not fly for it; and, after many efforts, the old +bird, unable to resist his pleading, perched on a twig just +beneath him, and held up the bug, which you may be sure +he was not slow to seize and eat.</p> + +<p>The little fellow now seemed to make up his mind to fly, +even if he died in the attempt. He flapped his wings, +rounded his back, and leaned forward as before, while the +mother-bird flew about, fluttering and chirping to such an +extent that the father came down from the top of a high +tree to see how they were getting along.</p> + +<p>The little bird was just about to fly, and I was just ready +to clap my hands in applause, when, lo! there he was clinging<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +to his perch again, trembling with fear, and chirping, +"I can't do it. I dare not. Oh, dear!"</p> + +<p>The two old birds flew away much disappointed; but the +mother soon returned with another bug, and the lesson was +repeated. Indeed it was repeated so many times, that I +began to lose patience with the little coward, and to be full +of pity for the poor tired mother.</p> + +<p>His birdship had just eaten a bug, and the parent-birds +were chirping and flying around, when, with the hope of +helping them in their labors, I stepped forward, and tapped +him on the bill with a flower-stem. The blow was so sudden +and unexpected, that, before he had time to think, he +lifted his wings and flew to a neighboring twig, where he +clung, frightened and delighted at what he had done.</p> + +<p>I left him then, with his father and mother making just +such a time over him as your fathers and mothers made +over you when you took your first steps.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Mabel Elwell.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>"LULLABY!"</h2> + + +<div class='poem2'> +<span class="smcap">Now</span> the shadows gather fast, "by-low" time has come at last;<br /> +Little birds have gone to rest, safe within their downy nest;<br /> +Little lambkins seek the fold, warmly housed from wind and cold:<br /> +Baby darling, you and I now must sing our lullaby!<br /> +<br /> +I will sing a sweet good-night to my baby's blue eyes bright,<br /> +To the little cheeks so fair, to the sunny, golden hair,<br /> +To the rosy lips so sweet, to the dimpled hands and feet;<br /> +Gently rocking to and fro, singing softly, singing low.<br /> +<br /> +Into "Dreamland," baby wee, you will slip away from me;<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>Out from shadow into light, to the world of visions bright;<br /> +While the mother-love so true, keeping tender watch o'er you,<br /> +With the lullaby shall seem still to soothe and bless your dream.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus061.png" width="400" height="402" alt="Rocking baby" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class='poem2'> +Lullaby, oh, lullaby! stars are lighting in the sky;<br /> +All the sunshine of the day like yourself is tired of play:<br /> +Tell me, are the sunbeams <i>there</i> in that dreamland bright and fair?<br /> +Bring them back, my baby, then, when you wake to earth again.<br /> +<br /> +Sweetly on her mother's breast sinks the little one to rest.<br /> +By-low time is sweeter far than all the hours of play-time are:<br /> +So thinks baby, so think I, as we sing our lullaby,<br /> +Rocking gently to and fro, chanting softly, chanting low.<br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Mary D. Brine.</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_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>HOW LITTLE EDITH WENT TO SLEEP.</h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">I'm</span> sleepy; and I want my mamma to rock me to sleep; +and I don't want grandma, or auntie, or papa, or any one +else, to rock me, but just my own mamma." And the little +queen planted her feet firmly, and looked at us with so much +defiance, that we felt it was of no use for us to coax, rock, +or sing.</p> + +<p>Little Edith was tired, and sadly in need of her nap; but +her mamma was sick in bed, and could not be disturbed. +What was to be done?</p> + +<p>Papa held up a bright silver-piece as a reward of merit to +the little girl, if she would be good, and go to sleep. Grandma +ventured a little coaxing. But it was all of no avail: the +sleepy eyes opened wide, as if they meant to keep open in +spite of us all.</p> + +<p>But when auntie remarked that she was going to her +room to sharpen her pencil, and draw some pictures of a +cat, or a dog, or a rabbit, Edith's eyes brightened; and she +said, "Let me go too?"</p> + +<p>So Edith sat on her auntie's lap, and asked her to draw a +rabbit,—a "yabbit," Edith called it,—and to begin at his +ears.</p> + +<p>"Yes, little pet. Here are his ears, and here is his body, +and here is his tail, and here are his feet, and here are some +spectacles for him to see through," said auntie, drawing +each article as she named it. "And here are some pretty +red beads around his neck, and some rings in his ears; and +now we will tie a nice blue ribbon on his tail." Here Edith +suggested shoes for his feet.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said auntie. "And now he wants an apple to +eat: so here is an <i>apple</i> for him (1). Now he wants some +<i>grass</i> (2); now some <i>nuts</i> (3). Now he is crying for a piece<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +of <i>pie</i> (4); no, he doesn't want that kind, he wants <i>gooseberry-pie</i>: +well, rabbit, here it is (5). Here is some <i>bread</i> +for him (6), and we will spread it with nice butter; and he +wants a <i>potato</i> too (7), and a nice sweet <i>orange</i> (8), and +a <i>brush</i> to smooth his fur (9)."</p> + +<p>Little Edith's eyes were gradually closing; but, becoming +aware of the fact, she started up as if she thought of going +away.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus063.png" width="500" height="273" alt="numbered pictures" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Stop, darling," said auntie. "We must give the rabbit +a <i>wash-bowl</i> to wash in (10), and some nice cool water in +it; and now he must have a <i>comb</i> (11), and a <i>cup and +saucer</i> to drink his tea from (12), and a <i>doll</i> to play with +(13). Now he says he wants a <i>house</i> to live in (14), with a +tree growing by it, and a nice walk to the front-door, and +a fence all around it; and there he is crying for a bed to +sleep on. Oh, what a rabbit you are! you want so many +things! Well, here is a nice <i>bed</i> for you (15). Now I hope +you will go to sleep, and not ask for another thing; for +little Edith's eyes are shut."</p> + +<p>And, sure enough, Edith was fast asleep.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +C. L. K.<br /> +</div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 139px;"><img src="images/divider1.png" width="139" height="19" alt="Divider" title="" /></div> +<h2>BLOW, BLOW, EAST WIND!</h2> + + + +<div class='sig'>Music by <span class='smcap'>T. Crampton</span>.</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus064-music.png" width="500" height="731" 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/feb78.mid">here</a>.]</small><br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +1. Blow, blow, east wind!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What does the east wind do?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shine, shine, sunlight!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And what does the sunshine do?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sunshine clear</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Goes here and there,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And searches ev'ry nook;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And while it is going,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wind it is blowing</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Much farther than you can look.</span><br /> +<br /> +2. Blow, blow, east wind!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Woodlands and valleys through!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shine, shine, sunlight!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With beams of a golden hue</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The fields grow green</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By winds swept clean,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But end your blowing, do!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And south breezes dear</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Very soon will be here</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the skies of a deep warm blue.</span><br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='tnote'> +<h3>Transcriber's Note:</h3> + +<p>The title page and table of contents were created for this issue following +the pattern from the 1877 issues.</p> + +<p>Page 48, comma removed from text. The original read (said, he only)</p> + +<p>Page 63, end quotation mark added (his fur (9).")</p> +<p>On the midi, last bar, bass staff, first chord changed from E-G to G-B.</p></div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Nursery, February 1878, Vol. XXIII, +No. 2, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, FEBRUARY 1878 *** + +***** This file should be named 28141-h.htm or 28141-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/1/4/28141/ + +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, February 1878, Vol. XXIII, No. 2 + A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 20, 2009 [EBook #28141] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, FEBRUARY 1878 *** + + + + +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 XXIII.--No. 2. + + + + +Contents. + + +IN PROSE. + + PAGE + Ebony and Lucy 34 + Daisy 37 + My First Attempt at Fishing 40 + New Method of Catching Mice 43 + Jamie Canfield's Sand-Heap 45 + Dick's Dream 47 + Drawing Lesson 49 + Romeo the Shirk 51 + Tied Not Mated 54 + My Kitten 55 + A Lesson in Flying 58 + How Little Edith Went to Sleep 62 + + +IN VERSE + + PAGE + The Terrible Trio 35 + Shy Little Pansy 41 + A Song for Baby 44 + Three Little Chicks 50 + Mother's Last Look 53 + "Lullaby!" 60 + Blow, Blow, East Wind (_with music_) 64 + + + + +[Illustration: VOL. XXIII.--No. 2.] + + + + +EBONY AND LUCY. + + +[Illustration: E]BONY is the name of Lucy's black dog. I will leave you +to guess why he is so called. + +On a bright, cold winter day, when no wind was stirring, and the ice of +the pond was smooth as glass, Lucy went out, followed by Ebony. Such +joyful barking as there was! + +Her father knew that the good dog would pull her out of the water, if +the ice should break through. But the day was so cold, there was little +danger from thin ice. + +A bright idea occurred to Lucy when she had put on her skates. She had +scarfs and handkerchiefs with her, and, tying three or four of these +together, she made a noose, which she threw over Ebony's head. Thus she +held him, so that he could pull her on her skates over the ice. + +"Now, Ebony, let us see how fast you can go," said Lucy. Ebony started +at a full gallop; and she began to sing,-- + + "We issue no tickets, we close no gate, + We blow no whistle, and nobody's late; + Our train is off as soon as we're in it; + We go at the rate of ten miles a minute, + (And that is six hundred miles an hour!)-- + For ours is an engine of one-dog power; + But that dog's Ebony, bold and fleet, + A dog, you'll find, that is hard to beat: + So look out, stragglers and tramps! I guess + You'd better not trifle with our express!" + +Hardly had Lucy finished her song, when Ebony, who had been going at +great speed for some distance, slipped on his haunches, where the ice +was very smooth, and, sliding along, fell over on his side. + +Lucy fell too, but she was not hurt. "You good Ebony," said she. "You +have done well. But it is too bad to make you play the part of a +locomotive engine. And so, old fellow, I will take off your harness, and +let you go free." + +Then Lucy took the scarf from the dog's neck, and darted off alone on +her skates to a part of the pond where her brother Felix had just had a +tumble on the ice. + +But Ebony would not forsake her. He kept close at her heels; for he knew +there was water underneath the ice, and he meant to be near at hand, +should any accident happen. I am glad to say, that, after a good frolic +on the ice, they reached home safely in time for dinner. + + UNCLE CHARLES. + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE TERRIBLE TRIO. + + + THESE are the robbers,--the terrible three! + In showing no mercy they all agree; + They fill the woods with their war-whoops dire: + Policemen and soldiers, beware, retire! + + Rinaldo's the name of the captain: you learn + His rank from his cap, and his frown so stern. + The next is Grimaldi, a desperate fellow! + His eyes they are blue, and his hair it is yellow. + + The youngest but dreadfulest of them all + Has a terrible name that I cannot recall: + 'Tis hard to pronounce; and it's well, perhaps, + That memory here has suffered a lapse. + + Oh! doesn't it make you all shudder to look + At their likenesses even, all here in a book?-- + Rinaldo the fierce, and Grimaldi the grim, + And that young, nameless bandit, so bold and so trim. + + But if you should meet with this terrible band, + Now don't run away, but come quick to a stand: + Be humble and quiet, and don't act amiss, + And all that they'll rob you of, will be--a kiss! + + IDA FAY. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +DAISY. + + +A FRIEND of mine, Mr. S., had a beautiful colt named Daisy, who was the +pet of all the family. She was so tame she would put her head in at the +open windows to see what was going on in the house; and very often, when +she saw the front-door open, she would go up the steps of the piazza, +and deliberately march into the hall. No one ever struck Daisy with a +whip, or even a switch. A little slap of the hand, and a "Go out, +Daisy," were all that were necessary. + +Mrs. S. had a new cook; and one day she set a pan of custard on the +back-porch to cool. When she went out to get it, an hour or two after, +she found nothing but the empty pan. Molly ran to Mrs. S. in great +distress, and told her of the loss of the custard. "Ah!" said Mrs. S., +"then Daisy has eaten it." And, sure enough, Daisy was the thief. + +Another time the naughty colt put her head in the kitchen-window, and +ate up some apple-pies that were on the table. All this was very bad +indeed, but Daisy was always forgiven because she was so lovely and +gentle. She would follow any of the family about the grounds, and rub +her head against them to show how much she loved them. + +One day a man came to Mr. S.'s house to make a visit. He was not in the +habit of visiting the family, and so had not made Daisy's acquaintance. +After tea, Mr. S. and his visitor were standing on the piazza, when +Daisy came trotting up, as she always did when she saw one of the family +there, and opened her mouth, expecting Mr. S. to put a piece of bread or +apple in. The stranger did not understand this little trick, and (coarse +man that he was!) spat a quantity of tobacco-juice into Daisy's face. +Poor little Daisy! She hung her head down, and walked off under the +trees, where she stood looking very miserable. + +The next morning Mr. S. asked his visitor to walk with him through his +grounds; and, as they were walking along, they passed a place where +Daisy, who still looked as if she felt insulted and injured, was quietly +grazing. + +As soon as she saw her enemy (as she must have considered him), she +pricked up her ears as if some happy idea had come into her head. She +gave herself a little shake, and, walking behind him until she was quite +near, suddenly wheeled around, and gave a kick that would have broken +some of his bones, if he had not jumped out of the way just in time to +escape her heels. + +As it was, he was very much frightened, and looked very mean; for he +knew that a kick was just what he deserved for his vulgarity and +insolence. + +Daisy had never been known to kick at anybody before, and she never +kicked anybody afterwards. + + A. + + + + +THE FAMOUS MOZART BAND. + + +THE famous Mozart Band, as everybody ought to know, was formed in our +village. It has serenaded almost every family on the street; and there +is no end to the money (in the form of beans and smooth stones) that has +been poured into the hat carried round by Miss Amy, the youngest member. + +[Illustration] + +The band is composed of five members, whose names are Charles, Edwin, +Susan, Bella, and Amy. Charles was the founder of the band. While on a +visit to his uncle in the city, he had seen a strolling band of men in +the street, who played finely on trumpets and flutes. He resolved to +form a band at home, and to call it the Mozart Band. + +But why call it the Mozart? Well, Mozart was a wonderful musical genius, +who could compose music when he was five years old, and who astonished +all Germany by his skill and aptness as a performer. So Charles decided +on calling his band the Mozart Band. + +At great expense I have obtained a drawing of the members of the Mozart +Band. Charles (first drum) is the leader; Edwin (second drum) is next in +rank; Amy (trumpet) is the next, for she owns the trumpet, and so comes +before the other two ladies, who are merely vocal performers, by which I +mean singers. + +Now, if you want to hear the famous Mozart Band, you must come to our +village. Performances take place every Wednesday and Saturday afternoon, +and sometimes oftener. If you come, you must bring some money to put +into Amy's hat; for the band cannot afford to play for nothing. They are +getting to be so famous that I should not wonder if they were to have an +invitation soon to come on to New York or Boston, and give a concert in +one of the large halls. + + AUNT CECILIA. + + + + +MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT FISHING. + + +WHEN I was seven years old, my father took me down to the river to fish. +I had a nice new line, and a little hook that I bought of a peddler the +week before. My father cut me a pole from the woods near by; and I +caught a grasshopper for bait. + +I tried to put the grasshopper on the hook, but I pricked my finger: so +my father put it on for me. Then I threw in my line, and kept moving it +up and down. + +Pretty soon I thought I felt a bite, and called out to my father, "O +father, I've got a fish!" I pulled it up, and what do you think I had +caught? You could not guess in a week. It was my sister's old rag baby. + + FRANK LYNN. + +[Illustration] + + + + +SHY LITTLE PANSY. + + + "WHY so shy, my Pansy, + Tell me why so shy? + Mother's arms are round thee; + This is grandma by. + She can tell you stories + Of the time, my dear, + When she was a little girl + Just like Pansy here. + + "Once there was a dolly, + And its name was Bess; + Grandma then, like Pansy, + Was--how old? Now guess! + Just the age of Pansy! + Well, one night, you see"-- + "Grandma," said the little girl, + "Take me on your knee." + + Pansy's shyness melted; + Grandma won the day: + Now hugged tight in grandma's arms + Little Pansy lay; + And she heard a story + Of a doll so fine, + Left out on the cold, cold ground, + Where no sun could shine. + + And the snow fell slowly, + Softly fell, like down, + Till a heap of drifted flakes + Covered dolly's gown. + Yes, it hid and covered + All the bright blue dress, + Then her hair and rosy cheeks-- + Poor forsaken Bess! + + Dolly's little mother + Hunted for her child; + But no trace of her was seen + Till the air grew mild. + When the snow was melted, + There was dolly found, + With her silken dress all soiled + On the muddy ground. + + EMILY CARTER. + + + + +NEW METHOD OF CATCHING MICE. + + +PERHAPS some of your youthful readers will be glad to know how I catch +mice. If you think so, you are at liberty to publish the following; for +I do not intend to apply for a patent. + +One evening last week we made some molasses candy; and, as too much of +it, eaten before going to bed, is not good for the teeth, I spread some +on a baking-tin, and set it away to cool for the next day. + +It was not cooked enough to harden thoroughly; and a little mouse had +the curiosity to taste it; but, the moment his feet touched it, they +stuck fast, and he could not get away. + +His cries for help brought two other mice to his assistance; but they +shared the same fate, the molasses candy holding all three prisoners. + +When I found them the next morning, all three were stuck fast. This +shows what a useful thing molasses candy is to have in a house, and is a +warning to all mice not to meddle with it. + + ARTHUR F. CORBIN. + GOUVERNEUR, N.Y. + + + + +A SONG FOR BABY. + + + NUTS for all the baby-birds + In the merry budding spring; + Roses, where the dusty bees + May sip and cling. + + Shade for all the pretty lambs + That in the summer stray; + Hedges, where the crickets chirp + Their time away. + + Holes, where nimble squirrels hide + When autumn hours are chill; + Heaping barns, where horse and cow + Have shelter still. + + Homes for rabbit, mouse, and mole, + When winter strews the ground; + But mother's arms for baby dear + The whole year round! + + GEORGE COOPER. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +JAMIE CANFIELD'S SAND-HEAP. + + +JAMIE CANFIELD is a three-year-old boy who lives in Lawrence, Kansas, +the prettiest town in the State. He and Freddy Bassett, a four-year-old +neighbor, love to play in the dirt; and their mammas allow them to do +it, because it is so healthy. + +It certainly has proved to be so in Jamie's case; for he was quite pale +and delicate in the spring, and now he is brown and rugged, and ready to +eat all the food he can get. But dear me! he used to get so dirty! + +What was the use of washing him, and putting on clean dresses and +aprons, when he was constantly throwing aside his other playthings, and +making mud pies, or carting earth in his little red wagon? + +His papa laughed and said, "Oh, never mind! Dirt is good for him." But +mamma thought it was not very good for his clothes; and, besides, she +wanted him to be clean enough to kiss without being washed every time he +came into the house. + +So she said one day to his papa, "James, I think it would be a good idea +to get a load of sand for Jamie to play in. It will at least be cleaner +than that dust-heap." + +That very day up came a load of yellow, shining sand. It was heaped into +a shady corner by mamma's bedroom-door, and Jamie and Freddy dived into +it at once. + +They made pies; they dug holes, and filled them with water for wells; +they made mountains with caves in their sides, and every thing else they +could think of. When dinner-time came, Jamie had to be coaxed away from +his sand-heap; and mamma said she believed he would sleep in it, if he +were allowed to. + +After dinner, as soon as he waked from his nap, he went straight to his +sand again. Freddy was there before him; and soon Minnie Rich, a little +girl eleven years old, came out, and played with them. + +She knew how to work sand better than any of them. First she wet it. +Then she made a house with holes in the sides for doors and windows, and +a chip for a chimney. Then she made a smooth lawn in front of the house, +and some hills and valleys in the rear, fenced in a yard, and set out +some flowers. + +The boys were delighted; and mamma went to the door more than once to +look at the plantation, as Jamie called it, before it was finished. It +was really quite a pretty thing, and Jamie declared his intention of +keeping it just as it was. But the hot sun dried the sand, so that the +house crumbled away; and the two boys were soon digging and shovelling +in their own way as before. + + JAMIE'S MAMMA. + +[Illustration] + + + + +DICK'S DREAM. + + +"YES, step right down upon me, and kill me, if you like," said Mrs. +Tarantula to Dick, as they met at the schoolhouse door. "This is a hard +world, Dick Adams, and I am about tired of living in it. + +"You don't know what a fine home I once had! It was in that clay mound; +and, when I had dug me a hole fully a foot deep and an inch across, my +jaws and my eight legs were quite tired out. I left some small stones on +the side for stairs: I lined the hole with brown silk next to the dirt, +and with white satin inside, both of which I spun and wove on the spot. + +"My nice round lid fitted so snug and even, that I thought no one but +myself ever could find my house. But, last week, your brother Will's +sharp eyes spied the round ring that marks my nest; and he went and +tore the lid from its hinges, and left my hundred and ten children +without a roof to cover their heads. _How I would like to bite that +boy!_ + +"I found the lid, and tried to fasten it down again; but a heavy shower +came up, and I could not fix it in the rain. Then my husband came over +from his house. You know our husbands never live with the rest of the +family. They are too cross and get too hungry at times. + +"We were not on very good terms; for, some time before, when he thought +I was away from home, he tried to get into my house. I heard him, and, +running up stairs, I put my claws in the two little holes in the lining +of the lid, and braced myself so that he could not pry open the lid. He +said he only wanted to pay me a visit; but I knew he was hungry, and +wanted to eat up our children. + +"But now he spoke very kindly to me, and told me that my lid could not +be fixed on; but, as my children were now old enough to care for +themselves, I had better go home with him. I went to his house to talk +it over and forgot to give the children their supper, and tell them to +work for themselves after this. + +"My husband told me a few days after that my boys and girls got into a +fight, and, before they quit, ate each other up; but he was away from +home for two days, and looked very full when he came back. + +"He may have told the truth; but I can't see how one of my little ones +could eat the other one hundred and nine, and then swallow himself too." + +This is what Dick Adams dreamed that a tarantula said to him. He had +seen one on his way to school, and what the teacher told him about the +insect had interested him so much that he found himself dreaming about +it all night. + + C. M. DRAKE. + SAN DIEGO, CAL. + +[Illustration: DRAWING-LESSON BY HARRISON WEIR. + +VOL. XXIII.--NO. 2.] + + + + +THREE LITTLE CHICKS. + + + THREE little chicks, so downy and neat, + Went out in search of something to eat: + Ter-wit, ter-weet! + Something to eat! + And soon they picked up a straw of wheat. + +[Illustration] + + Said one little chick, "That belongs to me!" + Said the other little chick, "We'll see, we'll see!" + "Ter-wit, ter-weet! + It is nice and sweet," + Said number three: "let us share the treat!" + + One little chick seized the straw in his bill, + And was just preparing to eat his fill, + When the other chick + Stepped up so quick, + He hadn't a chance for a picnic pick. + + They pulled, and they tugged, the downy things; + And, oh, how they flapped their baby wings! + "Ter-wit, ter-weet! + Something to eat! + Just please let go of this bit of wheat!" + + Fiercer and fiercer the battle grew, + Until the straw broke right in two, + And the little chicks + Were in a fix, + And sorry enough for their naughty tricks. + + For a saucy crow has watched the fight, + And laughs, "Haw, haw! It serves you right!" + So he snatches the prize + From before their eyes, + And over the hills, and away, he flies! + + JOSEPHINE POLLARD. + + + + +ROMEO THE SHIRK. + + +SIXTY years ago, when grandpa was a boy, he had a dog called Romeo, who +was made to do the work of churning butter. I never saw a churn that +went by dog-power; but it must have been a clumsy affair. + +The task could not have been an agreeable one, and I do not wonder that +Romeo did not like it. One morning, when the churn was taken out, and +the cream was all ready to be made into butter, there was no Romeo to be +found. Long and loud were the calls made for him; but he did not answer +to his name. + +The churning was done that day without his help. Nothing was seen of him +until just before dark, when he came into the house with the air of a +prodigal son. He did not walk up like an honest dog to get his supper, +but slunk under a table. + +[Illustration] + +The family had agreed to neither chide him nor caress him; but +grandfather, who was then a little boy, slyly carried him some supper. +Romeo ate it greedily, but looked unhappy all the time as though he knew +he had done wrong. It was plain that his conscience was smiting him. + +The next week, when churning-time came, Romeo did not try to get away. +He stood by watching while the cream was made ready; and, when his +master whistled for him to take his place at the churn, he came forward, +wagging his tail, as much as to say, "I am not going to be a shirk. I +was not half so happy the day I ran away as I should have been if I had +done my work cheerfully. I will never be caught shirking again." And he +never was. + + DAISY'S MAMMA. + + +[Illustration] + + + + +MOTHER'S LAST LOOK. + + + THEY'RE asleep, + So I'll keep + Very still, and peep: + Not too bright, + Candle-light + Is for them to night. + + Saturday + Makes them gay, + And they've had their play: + Sled and shout + Have, no doubt, + Tired them fairly out. + + Once in bed, + Prayers were said + By each curly-head: + But, before + Half was o'er, + They saw slumber-shore. + + Darlings! may + Angels stay, + Bless and for you pray! + May their love, + Like a dove, + Watch you from above! + + EMILY CARTER. + + + + +TIED, NOT MATED. + + +ONE fine summer day, Master Fritz took his mother's greyhound, Leda, and +his father's spaniel, Neptune, out for a run. They were quite ready for +a frolic, for they had been tied up in the barn all the forenoon, and +had been longing for Fritz to come. + +So off they went; and, after they had gone some distance, Fritz thought +it would be fine fun, as he had in his pocket a piece of string, to tie +the two dogs together, and play they were a span of horses. + +No sooner had he got them well tied than some one called him, and off he +ran, leaving the two dogs tied, but not mated. They roamed about a while +over the fields and meadows, till they came to the pond. + +Now, the dogs could not talk in our language; but they made certain +noises, which meant, I think, just this: "Here's a chance for a fine +swim!" cried Neptune. "Come, Leda, the water is nice and cool." + +"I'd rather not go in," said Leda. "I'm not a very good swimmer, and I +easily take cold. Pray don't drag me in. Come back and have a race in +the meadow." + +[Illustration] + +"Oh, it's too fine, too fine!" barked Neptune; and he began to lap up +water with his tongue. + +Leda pulled back, and cried, "Oh, don't!" + +But the temptation was too great for Neptune. In he pulled poor Leda, +and swam about with her till she was chilled through. + +Fritz's father, Mr. Pitman, passing that way, saw the dogs, and called +them out. Glad enough was Leda to get on dry land. She shivered; but +Neptune shook himself till he drenched her all over. + +Then Mr. Pitman untied the dogs, and, taking some dry grass, gave Leda a +good rubbing till she felt warm and brisk. + +Then she began to bark at Neptune, and to caper round him, as much as to +say, "Did you not serve me a pretty trick, sir? But I shall not let +Master Fritz tie me to you again. Never, never!" + + ALFRED SELWYN. + + + + +MY KITTEN. + + +I WANT to tell you about my kitten, and some of her funny ways. She is +black and white, and her name is Beauty. + +I have great sport making her run up and down the room after my ball. +But a little piece of string is the best plaything for her. She will +jump right up on my shoulder to catch it. + +If I throw a newspaper on the floor, she will jump upon it, and tear +holes in it, making believe that she hears a mouse under it. This she +seems to do to amuse me; for, as soon as I stop looking at her, she will +go away and lie down. But she is growing fast, and soon will be a grave +old cat. + +[Illustration] + + VIOLA DAY. + +[Illustration] + + + + +A LESSON IN FLYING. + + +BIRDS have their trials as well as little boys and girls. To be sure +they don't have to stand in a line, and shout "Twice one are two" at the +top of their voices; but they have to learn to fly, and I think it very +likely that they take singing-lessons, although I am not sure as to +that. + +One day last summer I was picking flowers in the woods, when, happening +to look up, what should I see perched on a twig just in front of me but +a cunning little bird! + +At first I kept very quiet, lest I should frighten him away; but, as he +showed no sign of moving, I ventured nearer and nearer, until I even +covered him with my hand. + +"Why, dear me! he's nothing but a baby-bird, and can't fly," I said to +myself; and then I sat down on a mossy mound near by, and waited; for I +knew the mother-bird was not far off, and I wanted to see what was going +on. + +It was not long before I heard a gentle whirr in the leaves overhead, +and, looking up, saw two birds circling around the twig, but at some +distance above it. Then one of them, the mother, of course, drew nearer +and nearer in smaller and smaller circles, at the same time calling to +her baby in encouraging little chirps. + +Birdie on his perch seemed very much excited, turning his head from one +side to the other in the cunningest way. But when his mother came close +to him, only to dart off and call on him to follow, he looked so +disappointed that I really felt as if I must comfort him. + +The mother came back very soon and resumed her lesson in flying, and +very hard work she found it too, for the little fellow was timid and +refused to follow her, in spite of all her coaxing and scolding. After +working a long while, she flew off, leaving her baby trembling on his +perch. I pitied the poor little fellow, he seemed so forlorn and +helpless. + +The little bird, left to himself, got tired at last of staying where he +was, and made one or two efforts to fly. He flapped his wings, rounded +up his back until he looked like a ball of down, and leaned forward, as +much as to say, "I'll do it now." But when he saw the awful distance +between himself and the ground, his courage failed him, and he clung to +his perch more tightly than ever. + +After a while the mother-bird came back, bringing a large bug which she +used as a bribe for her timid birdling, holding it under his very bill, +and then darting off in the hope that he would follow. The youngster +chirped for the bug, but he would not fly for it; and, after many +efforts, the old bird, unable to resist his pleading, perched on a twig +just beneath him, and held up the bug, which you may be sure he was not +slow to seize and eat. + +The little fellow now seemed to make up his mind to fly, even if he died +in the attempt. He flapped his wings, rounded his back, and leaned +forward as before, while the mother-bird flew about, fluttering and +chirping to such an extent that the father came down from the top of a +high tree to see how they were getting along. + +The little bird was just about to fly, and I was just ready to clap my +hands in applause, when, lo! there he was clinging to his perch again, +trembling with fear, and chirping, "I can't do it. I dare not. Oh, +dear!" + +The two old birds flew away much disappointed; but the mother soon +returned with another bug, and the lesson was repeated. Indeed it was +repeated so many times, that I began to lose patience with the little +coward, and to be full of pity for the poor tired mother. + +His birdship had just eaten a bug, and the parent-birds were chirping +and flying around, when, with the hope of helping them in their labors, +I stepped forward, and tapped him on the bill with a flower-stem. The +blow was so sudden and unexpected, that, before he had time to think, he +lifted his wings and flew to a neighboring twig, where he clung, +frightened and delighted at what he had done. + +I left him then, with his father and mother making just such a time over +him as your fathers and mothers made over you when you took your first +steps. + + MABEL ELWELL. + + + + +"LULLABY!" + + + NOW the shadows gather fast, "by-low" time has come at last; + Little birds have gone to rest, safe within their downy nest; + Little lambkins seek the fold, warmly housed from wind and cold: + Baby darling, you and I now must sing our lullaby! + + I will sing a sweet good-night to my baby's blue eyes bright, + To the little cheeks so fair, to the sunny, golden hair, + To the rosy lips so sweet, to the dimpled hands and feet; + Gently rocking to and fro, singing softly, singing low. + + Into "Dreamland," baby wee, you will slip away from me; + Out from shadow into light, to the world of visions bright; + While the mother-love so true, keeping tender watch o'er you, + With the lullaby shall seem still to soothe and bless your dream. + +[Illustration] + + Lullaby, oh, lullaby! stars are lighting in the sky; + All the sunshine of the day like yourself is tired of play: + Tell me, are the sunbeams _there_ in that dreamland bright and fair? + Bring them back, my baby, then, when you wake to earth again. + + Sweetly on her mother's breast sinks the little one to rest. + By-low time is sweeter far than all the hours of play-time are: + So thinks baby, so think I, as we sing our lullaby, + Rocking gently to and fro, chanting softly, chanting low. + + MARY D. BRINE. + + + + +HOW LITTLE EDITH WENT TO SLEEP. + + +"I'M sleepy; and I want my mamma to rock me to sleep; and I don't want +grandma, or auntie, or papa, or any one else, to rock me, but just my +own mamma." And the little queen planted her feet firmly, and looked at +us with so much defiance, that we felt it was of no use for us to coax, +rock, or sing. + +Little Edith was tired, and sadly in need of her nap; but her mamma was +sick in bed, and could not be disturbed. What was to be done? + +Papa held up a bright silver-piece as a reward of merit to the little +girl, if she would be good, and go to sleep. Grandma ventured a little +coaxing. But it was all of no avail: the sleepy eyes opened wide, as if +they meant to keep open in spite of us all. + +But when auntie remarked that she was going to her room to sharpen her +pencil, and draw some pictures of a cat, or a dog, or a rabbit, Edith's +eyes brightened; and she said, "Let me go too?" + +So Edith sat on her auntie's lap, and asked her to draw a rabbit,--a +"yabbit," Edith called it,--and to begin at his ears. + +"Yes, little pet. Here are his ears, and here is his body, and here is +his tail, and here are his feet, and here are some spectacles for him to +see through," said auntie, drawing each article as she named it. "And +here are some pretty red beads around his neck, and some rings in his +ears; and now we will tie a nice blue ribbon on his tail." Here Edith +suggested shoes for his feet. + +"Yes," said auntie. "And now he wants an apple to eat: so here is an +_apple_ for him (1). Now he wants some _grass_ (2); now some _nuts_ (3). +Now he is crying for a piece of _pie_ (4); no, he doesn't want that +kind, he wants _gooseberry-pie_: well, rabbit, here it is (5). Here is +some _bread_ for him (6), and we will spread it with nice butter; and he +wants a _potato_ too (7), and a nice sweet _orange_ (8), and a _brush_ +to smooth his fur (9)." + +Little Edith's eyes were gradually closing; but, becoming aware of the +fact, she started up as if she thought of going away. + +[Illustration] + +"Stop, darling," said auntie. "We must give the rabbit a _wash-bowl_ to +wash in (10), and some nice cool water in it; and now he must have a +_comb_ (11), and a _cup and saucer_ to drink his tea from (12), and a +_doll_ to play with (13). Now he says he wants a _house_ to live in +(14), with a tree growing by it, and a nice walk to the front-door, and +a fence all around it; and there he is crying for a bed to sleep on. Oh, +what a rabbit you are! you want so many things! Well, here is a nice +_bed_ for you (15). Now I hope you will go to sleep, and not ask for +another thing; for little Edith's eyes are shut." + +And, sure enough, Edith was fast asleep. + + C. L. K. + + + + +BLOW, BLOW, EAST WIND! + +[Illustration: Music] + + + 1. Blow, blow, east wind! + What does the east wind do? + Shine, shine, sunlight! + And what does the sunshine do? + The sunshine clear + Goes here and there, + And searches ev'ry nook; + And while it is going, + The wind it is blowing + Much farther than you can look. + + 2. Blow, blow, east wind! + Woodlands and valleys through! + Shine, shine, sunlight! + With beams of a golden hue + The fields grow green + By winds swept clean, + But end your blowing, do! + And south breezes dear + Very soon will be here + With the skies of a deep warm blue. + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Note: + +The title page and table of contents were created for this issue +following the pattern from the 1877 issues. + +Page 48, comma removed from text. The original read (said, he only) + +Page 63, end quotation mark added (his fur (9).") + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Nursery, February 1878, Vol. XXIII, +No. 2, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, FEBRUARY 1878 *** + +***** This file should be named 28141.txt or 28141.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/1/4/28141/ + +Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. Music +by Linda Cantoni. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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