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[Illustration]


JULY

Vol. V. No. 9.

1885.

OUR LITTLE ONES

AND

THE

NURSERY

THE RUSSELL PUBLISHING CO.

36 BROMFIELD ST BOSTON

THOS. NELSON AND SONS, LONDON.

Copyright, 1885, by RUSSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY.] [Entered at the P. O.
at Boston as second-class matter.




CONTENTS.


                                                                      PAGE

  A PICTURE                                   JACK BARLOW              259
       (Illustrated by R. W. Vonnoh.)

  NAUGHTY NASNA                               LAURA E. RICHARDS        260
       (Illustrated by Culmer Barnes.)

  "CHOW-CHOW"                                 BESSIE PEDDER            263
       (Illustrated by Arthur Douglas.)

  POLLY'S BABY                                M. D. BRINE              266
       (Illustrated by Jessie C. Shepherd.)

  HICKORY, DICKORY, DOCK!                     PENN SHIRLEY             268
       (Illustrated by Jessie C. Shepherd.)

  A MEADOW SONG                               ELIZABETH A. DAVIS       270
       (Illustrated by E. P. Hayden.)

  OUR MOCKING BIRD                            VAN BUREN                273
       (Illustrated by A. S. Cox.)

  TROTTIE'S DOINGS                            JENNIE JUDSON            274
       (Illustrated by F. T. Merrill.)

  "SEVENTEEN, EIGHTEEN, MAIDS IN WAITING"     MARGARET JOHNSON         276
       (Illustrated by Jessie McDermott.)

  THE PIGS' CHOWDER PARTY                     FRANCES P. CHAPLIN       278
       (Illustrated by A. Buhler.)

  PUSSY'S ADOPTED CHILDREN                    S. D. L. H.              280
       (Illustrated by Ellen Oakford.)

  SEVEN TIMES ONE                             DAY NOBLE                282
       (Illustrated by Miss C. A. Northam.)

  WHAT KATY DID                               AUNT FANNY               284
       (Illustrated by Miss M. Humphrey.)

  PULL THE WEEDS                              M. E. MCKEE              286
       (Illustrated by Miss E. S. Tucker.)

  THISTLEDOWN                                 JENNIE JOY               288
       (Music by T. Crampton.)


  The Illustrative Department under the direction of Mr. GEORGE T. ANDREW.




OUR LITTLE ONES AND THE NURSERY,

(_MONTHLY._)


TERMS (in advance).

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Remittances are at risk of the Publishers only when sent by Postal
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should be made payable to the

    RUSSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY, BOSTON, MASS.


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[Illustration]

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[Illustration]

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[Illustration:

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_Absolutely Free to readers of "Our Little Ones."_

The Daintiest and Prettiest of Souvenirs.

      _The Publishers's price of these books is $1.50 each,
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      Nursery," with $1.50 to pay the subscription for one
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[Illustration]

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[Illustration]

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[Illustration]

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[Illustration]

[Illustration]




OUR LITTLE ONES

    July,

    1885

    Vol. V.    Copyright, 1885, by Russell Publishing Company.  No. 9.




A PICTURE.


    Dainty little Marguerite,
      Tripping down the stair,
    With the dancing sunlight
      In her golden hair,

    Through the open doorway,
      In the sunny brightness,
    Where the morning-glories
      Nod in airy lightness.

    Mamma, coming downwards,
      Sees her darling stand,
    Snowy ruffled apron
      Held in either hand,

    Making stately courtesy
      With a childlike grace,
    And a reverent brightness
      On her upturned face.

    "What art doing, baby?"
      Called the mother's voice,
    While the pretty picture
      Made her heart rejoice.

    Morning-glories kissed the curls
      The open brow adorning,
    As the little maid replied,
      "I'm wishing God good morning."

    JACK BARLOW.




NAUGHTY NASNA.


[Illustration]

Nasna was a coati-mondi, a cousin of the raccoon family. She was about
the size of a cat, with thick, coarse fur, brown on the back and sides,
and shading from yellow to orange underneath. She had a head and four
legs, and a fat body; but the two most important parts of her, in her
own opinion at least, were her nose and her tail. The tail was certainly
very handsome, long, and bushy, with black and yellow rings round it.
The nose was long, too,--long and sharp, and always poking, poking
itself everywhere. There never was such an inquisitive nose. Now it was
lifting the lid of a pot on the kitchen fire (for Nasna was tame, and a
great pet of her master's), and scalding itself with the steam; now it
was sniffing at a bottle of strong ammonia, without seeming to be
troubled in the least by the smell; now it was in her master's pocket,
trying to find out what it was that went "Tick! tick!"

[Illustration]

But what do you think the nose did one day? oh! _what_ do you think it
did? You never could guess, and so I must tell you.

[Illustration]

The old cat had been asleep beside the kitchen fire. She had had a
long, long nap,--the sleepy old cat,--and when she woke up she felt that
she needed a long, long stretch before she was quite herself again. Now,
the way in which the old cat stretched herself was this: she put her
four feet close together, and humped her back just as high as she could
possibly hump it; then she stretched herself, and opened her mouth to
its fullest extent, and said, "Mu-aw-yu-aouw!"

[Illustration]

This was a singular performance. Nasna had never seen it before, and
when she saw the red mouth open, wide, wider, widest, she immediately
said to herself, "Dear me! how very odd! I wonder what there is inside
that red cavern? I'm going to look!" and the next moment the long,
velvety nose was poked right into the old cat's mouth, and almost down
her throat.

Did the old cat shut her mouth? She did, indeed, my child; and who can
blame her for doing so? But there was a sound of woe in the air, and a
squealing as of a coati in despair, and the next moment Nasna was
crouching in the farthest corner of the room, holding her wounded nose
in both hands, and sneezing violently.

[Illustration]

But do not think that this was a lesson to Nasna; nothing of the kind!
The very next morning she managed to find her way into the dining-room
when the master and mistress were at breakfast. She climbed up at once
into the mistress' lap, and poked her nose at the shining coffee-pot.
Ah! it was hot. Pop went the nose into the cup of coffee that was
steaming beside the mistress' plate. Oh! that was hotter.

"I won't stay here any longer, to be treated so!" cried Nasna; and down
she jumped to the floor.

Buzz! buzz! what is that by the window? Something small, flying about,
with a black and yellow jacket on. See, now it is crawling on the floor,
and Nasna can catch it. Nasna does catch it, putting her soft paw on it.
Mr. Wasp extends his sting, as the utmost he has to offer. Nasna squeaks
wofully, but does not understand yet, so puts her nose down instead of
her paw. This time there is no doubt about the matter, and she retires
in great anguish to the kitchen.

[Illustration]

One day as she was playing about, tettered by a string to a chair, her
master took an egg and placed it on the floor, at a very provoking
distance. Nasna could just touch it with one paw, but could not get hold
of it. She tried with fore paws, she tried with hind paws; but all in
vain: she only succeeded in rolling the egg a little further off. What
was to be done? She sat down and looked at the egg long and
thoughtfully. At last she put her head on one side and winked: she had
an idea. She turned her back on the coveted treasure, and backed towards
it as far as she could. Then she grasped her tail with one paw,
stiffened it and curved the tip almost into a hook, and, touching the
egg with this hook, slowly and cautiously rolled it round in front of
her, till she could reach it with her fore paw. Then, in triumph and
much pride, she sat up on her haunches, cracked the egg, and sucked it,
without spilling a drop. Clever Nasna! I think she deserved a good
breakfast, don't you?

                                        LAURA E. RICHARDS.




"CHOW-CHOW."


"Chow-Chow" was not a pickle, but a chicken, and a real funny one, too.

I made friends with him when he was no bigger than a robin. He was an
only child; of course his mother had enough to do to pet and fuss over
him. But he would leave her any time when we called "Chow-Chow." We gave
him this funny name because he was a great talker. All he said was
"C-h-o-w-C-h-o-w," and then "_Chow-Chow-Chow-Chow_" as fast as he could
talk.

[Illustration]

His mother was a beautiful buff Shanghai, but he was a long-legged
Brahma, dressed in a speckled black and gray suit. As the days got
chilly, in the fall, it seemed as if he suffered dreadfully from cold
feet. He was always cuddling down in the warm feathers on his mother's
back, even when he was a pretty big fellow.

One day I said, "Come, 'Chow-Chow,' don't trouble your mother. I'll give
you a good warming by the kitchen fire." I carried him into the kitchen,
opened the oven door, and gave his cold feet a good toasting. Oh, how he
enjoyed it! He opened and shut his claws as he lay on my lap, and
_chow-chowed_, and pecked at the buttons of my dress.

The next day it was pretty cold, and the first thing I heard when I
went into the kitchen was a tapping at the window-pane. There was
"Chow-Chow" on the window-sill, pecking at the glass, and holding up one
foot, and then the other. He was talking, or rather scolding, at the top
of his voice.

I let him in. He went straight to the stove, and waited for me to take
him in my arms and warm his feet. He seemed to think it was ever so much
nicer than his mother's feathers.

One cold morning I was busy when he came in. The stove was very hot, and
"Chow-Chow"--silly bird!--couldn't wait for me to attend to him. He flew
up on the top of the stove. Then he gave a scream, and landed on the
table. That was the first and last time he tried to warm his feet
without my help.

My sister always said that "Chow-Chow" was a hen. I felt sure he was a
rooster. She said, "The first we know 'Chow-Chow' will lay an egg." _I_
said, "The first we know 'Chow-Chow' will _crow_."

After a while I saw some bright red whiskers under his chin. Then such a
pretty coral comb. Still he only talked "Chow-Chow-Chow."

[Illustration]

But one morning he came into the kitchen in a great hurry. He jumped
upon the table, flapped his wings, and stretched his long neck, opened
his mouth, and, oh! such a queer noise! It was a squeak and a roar. I
ran upstairs to my sister. "It _is_ a rooster. Didn't you hear
'Chow-Chow' crow?"--"Do you call that a crow? Why, I heard an awful
noise, and wondered what it was."

But our chicken grew up one of the handsomest birds I ever saw. And in a
few weeks not a rooster in the neighborhood had such a musical, splendid
crow as our "Chow-Chow."

                                        BESSIE PEDDER.




[Illustration]




POLLY'S BABY.


    ALL in the daintiest cradle
      That baby could wish to own,
    It lay contentedly winking,
      Where Polly had left it alone.
    It wasn't a mere doll-baby;
      Ah, no! that Polly would scorn;
    But this she loved through the daytime,
      And dreamed of from night till morn.

    A cap its small head adorning,
      A robe of cambric so white,
    And round its waist, for a "dress up,"
      A ribbon so blue and bright!
    Its eyes were, Polly thought, lovely,
      Because they were gray, and she
    Was always brushing the soft hair,
      As black as black hair could be.

    [Illustration]

    But once our Polly was naughty,
      And struck her baby at last;
    When, lo! it jumped out of the cradle,
      And scampered from danger fast.
    Do you think that was strange for a baby--
      For Polly's wee baby--to do?
    Why, children, 'twas only a kitty,
      Brimful of mischief--and mew!

                        M. D. BRINE.




HICKORY, DICKORY, DOCK!


WEEZY was so eager to help that she made it hard for herself and for the
family. She burned her fingers in stirring hot apple-sauce for Bridget.
She woke the baby in trying to curl the few hairs on his little bald
head. She meddled with mamma's knitting-work till she had lost every
needle. Papa Haynes laughed at these things; but when Weezy learned to
open his writing-desk he looked grave.

[Illustration]

"This'll never do," said he to mamma. "The child will be tearing my
papers next."

So he locked the desk, and hung the key above the tall clock beside it.

"There, my young squirrel, you won't reach that in a hurry," he said to
himself, kissing his little daughter good-by.

After he was gone mamma stepped into the kitchen to tell Bridget about
dinner. Weezy stayed in the sitting-room to sing Sambo to sleep. Every
time she rocked back in her small chair she could see the key shining
over the clock. It looked very much out of place. She wondered why her
papa had put it there. She wanted to whistle with it. Oh hum! if she was
a little speck of a bird she would fly against it and brush it down with
her wings. Or if Sambo was only an angel! She danced across the floor,
and threw him up as high as she could. Instead of knocking down the key
she knocked poor Sambo's stocking-yarn head against the wall, and he
fell flat upon the top of the desk.

[Illustration]

"Lie still, Sambo," cried Weezy, mounting a chair. From the chair she
easily climbed to the broad shelf of the desk. There she rested a
moment, leaning her chin on the top of the desk and patting Sambo. But
she did not take him in her arms, for not far above him hung the key.
She had set her little heart on getting it.

What do you think the little sprite did next? All by herself she
scrambled to the very top of that big desk. Standing on tiptoe, she
tried to reach over the clock! Even then she was not quite tall enough
to grasp the key with her chubby little fingers; but by perching upon
Sambo she got it at last.

By the time mamma came back Weezy had opened the desk, and cut one of
papa's deeds into paper dolls.

Papa was vexed enough, at noon, when he saw them.

"The loss of that deed will give me a great deal of trouble," said he to
mamma. "How _did_ Weezy come by the key of my desk?"

    "'Hickory, dickory, dock,
     The mouse ran up the clock!'"

answered mamma, laughing.

"Why, why, is it possible!" said papa, turning pale. "I'm thankful she
didn't break her neck,--our little mouse of a Weezy."

                                        PENN SHIRLEY.




[Illustration]




A MEADOW SONG.


    A LITTLE daisy in a meadow grew,
    Kissed by the sunshine, and fed by the dew;
    And gayly she sang to the passers-by,
    "Was ever a daisy so happy as I?"

    Then the clover, hearing the daisy's voice,
    Began, in her own sweet way, to rejoice;
    And softly sang, to the prettiest tune,
    "What bliss to live and to grow in June!"

    The violet peeped from her mossy bed,
    And round her the sweetest fragrance shed,
    Till far and near, on the summer air,
    Floated the perfume, fresh and rare.

[Illustration]

    And the buttercup waked from a golden dream
    To join in the grateful and joyous theme,
    As daintily over the grass she stepped,
    The fresher and sweeter from having slept.

    The wild blue flag, with a laughing toss,
    Spanned her color the green across;
    "Ho! ho!" she cried. "Oh, how merry are we!"
    Skipping along in her flowery glee.

    The sweet-brier, growing beside the wall,
    Quickly blossomed to hear the call,
    And bent, with a gracious and royal mien,
    At the jubilant cries of "Our queen! our queen!"

    Then dandelion, golden head,
    To follow where the others led,
    Sung till the echoes, loud and long,
    Resounded with her joyous song.

    The cowslip rose, with a pleased surprise,
    And, donning a robe of gorgeous dyes,
    Sang in a voice so rich and sweet
    The concert now was quite complete.

    The meadow-lark, as he heard the song,
    Sprung from his nest to greet the throng;
    And, thrilled to his heart by the joyous lay,
    Flew, singing, aloft, in the merriest way.

    So, in the dewy meadow-grass,
    Where all may listen as they pass,
    Both bird and flower, in sweet attune,
    Make happier all the days of June.

                          ELIZABETH A. DAVIS.




[Illustration: OUR MOCKING BIRD.]


A MOCKING-BIRD made his home in a honeysuckle in front of our cosey
house. In Arkansas, where we live, this sweet shrub is evergreen. Last
year the honeysuckle died, and the bird lost his home; but he liked the
place, and he went with his family to the lattice-room, in the rear of
the house.

In this apartment he found an old travelling-bag, or gripsack, hanging
on a nail. Inside of it was an old soft hat. This seemed to be what the
bird wanted, and he made his nest in it. This was his home all winter,
and he was happy there. When the cold weather, which we sometimes have
in Arkansas, came, he went to the water bucket to drink, and we fed him
with crumbs from the porch.

We started the honeysuckle anew, and when it had climbed to the top of
the cedar pole it spread out its foliage like an umbrella. The
mocking-bird liked his old home, and he moved back to its branches in
the spring. He has a nice family in his nest, and they give us music at
all times, night and day.

The father bird was as brave as a soldier. His special aversion is a
large Newfoundland dog, who is one of our pets. The bird will dart down
upon the dog's back, and make war upon him with a peculiar noise, until
he drives him away. He does this because he thinks the dog will hurt the
young in the nest. When there are no little ones he takes no notice of
the dog.

We think this is a great deal better than keeping the birds in a cage.
They are tame, and stay with us all the time; but they will not allow
themselves to be caught.

                                        VAN BUREN.




[Illustration]




TROTTIE'S DOINGS.


TROTTIE is a cunning little boy, not quite three years old. His cradle
is a little netted hammock. It is fastened at one end to his mamma's
sewing-machine, and at the other to a hook in the wall. When Trottie
grows tired he does not trouble his mamma, but gets into the little
hammock and rocks himself to sleep.

One day the door-bell rang. The little fellow picked up his mother's
best bonnet, which she had placed upon the bed. Crushing it down over
his little golden curly head he hastened to the door.

[Illustration]

He found the minister there, a tall, stately gentleman, wearing a
stove-pipe hat. Trottie's strange appearance made the gentleman laugh,
and he asked, "Where are you going, my little man?"

Trottie made no answer, but, after a prolonged stare at the stove-pipe
hat, asked, "Are you Mr. Yankee Doodle?" Mamma came down just then.
Laughing, she invited the visitor in.

Not long afterwards Trottie thought he would like to churn. When his
mother's back was turned he put his two dear little kittens, "Starry
Eyes" and "Bluebell," into the churn, and poured a cup of water over
them. He was just lifting the dasher when his mother heard the kittens
mewing and took them out.

[Illustration]

He loves the kittens dearly, and would not hurt them for anything.

                                        JENNIE JUDSON.




[Illustration: "Seventeen, Eighteen, Maids in Waiting"]

By Margaret Johnson:


    WHEN the western light is fading,
      And the deepening shadows fall,
    When the night winds through the branches
      Softly to each other call;

    When in grassy country meadows
      Heavy hang the clovers red,
    And the stars begin to twinkle
      In the dusky arch o'erhead;

[Illustration]

    When within the crowded city
      Spring the dark lamps into flame,
    And long rows of lighted windows
      Set the street as in a frame;

    When the busy hours are over,
      Cares and worries put away,
    And the evening enters softly
      After the retreating day;

    When the sound of homeward footsteps
      Echoes through the quiet street,
    Or the wayside grass is trampled
      By the tread of hurrying feet,--

    Then, in stately shining windows,
      Hung with misty laces white,
    Or in low-roofed cottage doorways
      Opening out into the night;

    With their merry voices silent,
      And their playthings put aside,
    Bright eyes, blue or black or hazel,
      All with eager watching wide,

    Stand a hundred little maidens,
      Looking out beneath the stars,
    Waiting in a hundred households
      For a hundred dear papas;

    And the quick, familiar footsteps
      Nearer through the darkness come,
    Till a hundred happy voices
      Cry at once their "Welcome home!"




THE PIGS' CHOWDER-PARTY.


DOWN at Cape Cod there lived two merry little twin brothers. Very full
of fun and mischief were they, and seldom quiet except when they were
asleep.

[Illustration]

One day their mamma bought some clams. She was going to have a chowder
for supper. For safe, cool keeping she put her basket of clams on the
grass, under a great tree.

[Illustration]

Johnnie and Willie stood by, and heard all that their mamma said about
it to auntie. They just looked and heard it all. Their baby faces--for
they were only a little over three years old--were as solemn as good old
Deacon Pitts', who said he "didn't see why people laughed when there was
no occasion."

These two baby-rogues put their bits of plump little hands into the
pockets of their pretty white aprons. When mamma and auntie went into
the house Nurse Jane sat down on the piazza, knitting in hand, to keep
an eye on them. They began to play bo-peep behind the lilac-bushes. When
Nurse Jane dropped off to sleep, as she should not have done, then it
was that these two small men turned their thoughts to other matters.
First, there was a wild chase after butterflies. Pretty soon they
trotted down the walk to see Mistress Piggy and her three lazy, grunting
children. When the pigs heard voices they, too, piped up, squealing out,
as Johnnie afterwards told his mamma, "Give _us_ some! give _us_ some!"

So at that call the laddies pelted Mistress Piggy and her children with
tufts of grass. Straying down the walk for more, they spied the basket
of clams. In a minute they were dragging the damp basket over the grass,
tugging away at the heavy load until their cheeks were scarlet. Then
such a pelting as Mistress Piggy and her family had. But they were wild
with the supper. They crunched and ate until all the clams were gone. A
pile of shells lay by the trough where their food was usually put. "They
had the chowder," Willie said.

Mamma and auntie had no chowder _that_ night!

I do not know what mamma said to her small boys, but I do know that they
went very early to bed.

                                        FRANCES P. CHAPLIN.




PUSSY'S ADOPTED CHILDREN.


WHEN I was a little girl I had a dear old pussy. She was black and
white, handsome and dignified, yet a grand playfellow when she chose to
put off her dignity.

[Illustration]

Great was my delight, one lovely spring morning, to find that pussy had
two beautiful little babies in an old basket under the shed steps. She
was so glad to have me see them, and so proud of the little soft, plump
things, that she purred her loudest.

For three weeks mamma, kitty, and I nursed those babies with increasing
pleasure. Whenever she wanted to take the air, or call on a friend, I
was always ready to sit by the basket till she came back.

One sad night Thomas Gray, an old enemy of pussy's, broke into her house
and killed both those darlings. Their mother didn't shed a tear, but my
tears fell fast. The little creatures had just begun to be very cunning,
and my disappointment was sore.

Over in the brick house across the street was another mamma kitty, with
five nice children. They were about the same age as our kittens. Two
were very like ours; so I got the idea of begging for them, and giving
them to my pussy. Away I ran to ask my mamma's friend in the brick house
if she would give me two of her kittens. She laughed, and said, "I wish
you would take them all."

I carried home the two I wanted, and gave them to our sad pussy as she
lay by the kitchen stove. At first she sniffed at them eagerly, but they
didn't smell one bit like her own sweet babies. Then she was angry at
the trick I seemed to be playing. Her eyes looked fierce. She rose up,
growled, and spit at the little strangers, and tried to run away. But I
held her while Mary, the girl, brought some milk in a saucer. Kitty was
hungry, and so were the little ones; they tried to lap the milk with
her, but they could only wet their bits of noses, and nearly sneezed
their ears off.

Then they cried piteously, and looked at our pussy mother in such an
appealing way that it seemed to touch her. In a little while she curled
down on the floor and let them take her own babies' places.

Presently she began to wash their little heads, and then to sing "gray
thrums" to them. At last she made up her mind that they were very nice
little things, and she would be a good mother to them. And she was.
Nobody would ever guess that they were not her own children.

                                        S. D. L. H.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




SEVEN TIMES ONE.


    MERRY-Sunshine-Bluebell girl,
    All my fond thoughts fly and furl,
    Close their wings about your head.
    May dear angels round you spread
    Joy from morn to setting sun,--
    For to-day you're "seven times one."

    Winds that fly from you to me
    Early, gently, ceaselessly,
    Whisper, "We have seen her wake,
    Gifts and kisses shyly take;
    We have touched her dainty cheek,
    Heard her gayly, sweetly speak
    Of the day that makes her seven,--
    Golden day from morn to even."

    Down I wander to the glen,
    Meeting whispers there again:
    Leaves that shake, and waves that whirl,
    Murmur of my birthday girl.
    Soft the leaves are, like her hair,
    And the brook-foam is as fair.
    Over me the sapphire skies
    Shine like her own gentle eyes.
    Break, O brook, in bubbling laughter!
    Only half you copy after
    Her who came with morning sun,--
    Her who now is "seven times one."

    Little morning-glory child,
    Bright as morn, as morning mild,
    Twine and wreathe thy fragile soul,--
    Delicate as the waves that roll
    Here in rainbows to my feet,--
    Twine and wreathe thee in our hearts,
    Sheltered be from storm and smarts;
    Cover us with dainty bloom;
    In our love find sunny room
    For thy dreams, songs, sallies mild,
    Blessed morning-glory child!

                          DAY NOBLE.

[Illustration]




WHAT KATY DID.


"KATY-DID-IT! Katy-did-it!" sang the katy-dids in the trees. Who was
Katy, and what did she do, that all night long the insects sang about
her?

[Illustration]

Who was Katy? Why, a pretty little girl, six years old. Such a merry
little girl that every one loved her. Katy had come out to stay with
Grandma Lee. Mamma's sister was very sick, and mamma had gone to nurse
her. Papa sent Katy and little Tom, with their nurse, to grandma's.

Grandma Lee lived in the country, in a large house, with a beautiful
garden to it. Back of the garden was the barn, where Katy liked to hunt
for eggs, and play in the hay. So Katy played from morning till night at
grandma's, and was very happy.

One warm afternoon she thought she would go into the parlor and get a
book that had beautiful pictures in it. It was on a table that had a
scarf hanging over the edge. When Katy reached to get it she pulled the
table-scarf off. Down fell the book and a large vase, which was broken
all to pieces.

"Oh, dear!" said Katy, "grandma will be so angry. I am afraid to tell
her."

Little Tom had followed Katy in, and now stood beside her. Just then
Katy heard grandma coming, and ran out on the porch.

She heard grandma say, "You naughty boy, to break grandma's pretty
vase!"

[Illustration]

Then Katy thought grandma will never know it was I who did it; for Tom
cannot talk, and he is always breaking things. I won't tell her I did
it. So she ran away, and did not come in till grandma called her. Then
grandma told her that Tom had gone into the parlor, and had broken the
vase by pulling the scarf off the table.

Katy did not say a word, but she could hardly eat her supper. When
little Tom came up to kiss her "Good-night," before nurse put him to
bed, she almost cried. But she thought it would not do to tell then. She
was glad when bed-time came, she felt so unhappy.

Katy slept in a little room that opened into grandma's. In the middle of
the night she heard a noise and waked up. The moon was shining into the
room, and it was almost as light as day. She heard something which
sounded like "Katy-did-it! Katy-did-it! Katy-did-it!"

She pulled the sheet over her head to shut out the noise; but still she
heard the singing, "Katy-did-it!"

"They mean me," said Katy. "I wish they would stop." But they only sang
the louder.

Katy could stand it no longer. She jumped out of bed and ran into
grandma's room, crying, "O grandma, grandma, Katy did it!"

Grandma jumped up, saying, "Why, child! what's the matter?"

"O grandma," sobbed Katy, "Tom did not do it; Katy did it."

"Did what?" asked grandma.

"I broke the vase," replied Katy, "and then let you think Tom did it."

Then Katy told grandma how the Katy-dids would not let her sleep till
she had told her all about it. Grandma said she hoped Katy would never
be afraid again to say "Katy did it," when she had done wrong. I think,
after that, she never was.

                                        AUNT FANNY.




PULL THE WEEDS.


    PULL the weeds, my little maid,
      That's good work to do;
    Better drop the ugly spade,--
      It's too big for you.
    In the onion bed, you see,
    Weeds with onions don't agree;
    Pull the weeds and set them free,
      Onions then will grow.

[Illustration]

    Do you want to help me, dear,
      Very, very much?
    Careful walk along right here,
      And you must not touch;
    You must learn to keep the row;
    Pull the weeds where'er they grow;
    Soon you'll learn to use the hoe,
      Rake, and spade, and such.

                          M. E. McKEE.




[Illustration: THISTLE DOWN.

Words by JENNIE JOY.[A]

Music by T. CRAMPTON

VOICE.


    1. "Dear little Fly-a-way, may I inquire,
        Whither so fast you are going?
        See not before you, the creek and the mire,
        What if the wind should stop blowing,
        You cannot curb in the windsteeds; and tho'
        Firm on their necks you're now lying,
        If they should pause once, away you would go
        Into the mud and lie dying.

    2. "Wee, winsome trouble-heart, can you not see,
        Home on these windsteeds I'm going?
        There to sleep sweetly, 'till Spring calls to me?
        Then a fair flow'r I'll be growing,
        Tho' but a weak little waif I appear,
        Purposes wise I'm fulfiling,
        Nothing that God rules is hopeless, my dear,
        Speed then winds, blow if you're willing."]

FOOTNOTE:

[A] Composed for "Our little Ones."




DO NOT FORGET

[Illustration]

THAT

THE TRAVELERS

OF HARTFORD, CONN.,

Is the LARGEST ACCIDENT COMPANY IN THE WORLD.

That it is the ONLY LARGE ONE in AMERICA.

That it pays policy-holders =$4,000 a Day= for Losses by Death and
Disabling Injury.

That it has paid =$10,500,000= to policy-holders since 1864.

That ONE IN NINE of all insured under its Accident Policies have
received Fatal or disabling injuries.

That it is also a LIFE COMPANY, with LARGER ASSETS in proportion to its
LIABILITIES than any other successful Company.

That it =Secures Full Payment= of Policies by =$7,826,000 Assets=,
=$1,947,000 Surplus=.

That its Policies are all =Non-Forfeitable=.

That it pays ALL CLAIMS, Life and Accident, =without= discount, and
immediately upon receipt of satisfactory proofs.

That its Rates are as low as will permanently secure =Full Payment= of
the face value of Policies.

       *       *       *       *       *


[Illustration: New England

CONSERVATORY OF MUSIC

Franklin Square Boston]

THE NEW ENGLAND

CONSERVATORY OF MUSIC

=Furnishes unequalled facilities= for instruction in =Piano=, =Organ=,
=Violin=, =Voice=, all =Orchestral Instruments, and Tuning=. In the =Art
Department= for =Drawing=, =Painting=, and =Modeling=. In =Modern
Languages=, =German=, =French=, and =Italian=, with the best native
teachers. In =English Branches=, =Common= and =Higher=. In the =College
of Oratory= in =Vocal Technique=, =Elocution=, =Rhetorical Oratory=,
=Dramatic= and =Lyric Art=. In the =New Home= excellent board and nicely
furnished rooms with light, heat, etc., can be had from $45 to $75 per
term of ten weeks. Tuition from $5 to $20 for ten weeks in classes of
four. Private Lessons in any Department. _Fall Term begins Sept. 10,
1885._ New Calendar, beautifully illustrated, sent free.

    E. TOURJEE, Director, Franklin Sq., Boston.

       *       *       *       *       *


CORTICELLI

SEWING SILK

[Illustration]

LADIES, TRY IT.

_The Best Sewing Silk Made._

Every spool warranted unequalled for Hand or Machine Sewing. Smooth,
Strong, Full Length. Ladies, ask your storekeeper for "CORTICELLI" Spool
Silk.

SOLD BY LEADING DEALERS.

_Our latest Book on Knitting (No 5), with samples of Knitting and
Etching Silk, sent on receipt of three two-cent stamps._

NONOTUCK SILK COMPANY,

FLORENCE, MASS.

       *       *       *       *       *


LUNDBORG'S

PERFUMES.

    =Lundborg's Perfume=, Edenia.
    =Lundborg's Perfume=, Maréchal Niel Rose.
    =Lundborg's Perfume=, Alpine violet.
    =Lundborg's Perfume=, Lily of the Valley.

LUNDBORG'S

RHENISH COLOGNE.

A box containing Samples of all the above five articles prepaid to your
nearest Railroad Express Office (which should be named) for Fifty
Cents--Money Order, Stamps or Currency.

Address: YOUNG, LADD & COFFIN, 24 Barclay Street, New York.




WHAT IS THE TIME?

_There is no occasion to put this question to another when you can get a
Number One_

TIME-KEEPING WATCH FOR $3.50.

[Illustration: THE WATERBURY WATCH.

THE WATERBURY WATCH.

THE WATERBURY

Time To Get Up Sister.]


A STRONG, SUBSTANTIAL ARTICLE.

  A STEM-WINDER.    CAN BE REGULATED PERFECTLY.    RUNS FOR 28 HOURS.

KEEPS IN ORDER WELL.

This is the merchant's Watch, the farmer's Watch, the miner's Watch, the
laborer's Watch, the boy's Watch, the school-girl's Watch--in fact
everybody's Watch. The Waterbury Watch Company has a national reputation
for making the

Best Cheap Watch in the World.

THE WATERBURY WATCH is a stem-winder, and will run 28 hours. The case is
Nickel-Silver, and will always remain as bright as a new silver dollar.
The Watch has a heavy beveled edge and crystal face. The works of the
Watch are made with the finest automatic machinery. Every Watch is
tested in varying positions and is perfect before leaving the factory.
Every Watch is put up in a handsome new improved satin-lined case for
safe transportation through the mails.

Teach your children to be on time. Give them a WATERBURY WATCH. No Boy
or Girl should be without one.

So perfect is the machinery used in making this Watch, and so exact are
all its parts, that if it needs repairs, if sent direct to the factory,
the charge for actual repairs (including parts used) never exceeds 50
cents. This will explain why they are so cheap and so easily repaired.

A FEW TESTIMONIALS--THOUSANDS MORE COULD BE GIVEN.

      [From Thomas A. Edison, Electrician, New York,
      February 10, 1885.]

      "I have used the Waterbury Watch for some time and
      find that it is the only one which will keep
      reasonably perfect time when used around powerful
      dynamo machines."

      The New York _Tribune_ says: "It is remarkable how
      quickly the Waterbury Watch has stepped into popular
      favor. No doubt, the secret of its instant success has
      been the fact of its excellence. No amount of
      advertising could push into favor a poor article. The
      Waterbury Watch is good and cheap."

      "I have carried a Waterbury for over a year and find
      it a most excellent time-keeper. It has run beside a
      $100 gold watch without showing the least
      variation."--F. G. PERRY, Wakefield, R. I.

      "My Waterbury after three years' trial continues to
      give satisfaction, and is now going as good as when I
      received it. At four o'clock daily we receive the time
      over our wire, and my watch is always prompt to the
      minute."--A. S. LETTS, Pennsylvania Railroad, Jersey
      City.

Sent by registered mail, postage paid, on receipt of $3.50.

The advertiser refers to the publishers of this magazine and to the
North National Bank of Boston, as to his responsibility.

Address all orders to

GEO. A. FOXCROFT, 38 Bromfield St., Boston, Mass.

"INDISPENSABLE TO EVERY ONE WHO WRITES."

The Genuine A. T. Cross STYLOGRAPHIC PEN.

[Illustration]

Writes 10,000 to 20,000 words with once filling. Never leaks or blots. A
perfect pen and ink bottle combined. Will last for years. =Price, $2.00
plain; $2.50 gold mounted.= Sent by registered mail, on receipt of
price. A six month's supply of ink forwarded on receipt of 25 cents.

THE CROSS PEN COMPANY, No. 3 Milk Street, Boston, Mass.

       *       *       *       *       *


[Illustration: THE GREAT AMERICAN TEA COMPANY]

GOOD NEWS TO LADIES!

Greatest inducements ever offered, Now's your time to get up orders for
=our celebrated Teas and Coffees=, and secure a beautiful Gold Band or
Moss Rose China Tea Set, or Handsome Decorated Gold Band Moss Rose
Dinner Set, or Gold Band Moss Decorated Toilet Set. For full particulars
address

    THE GREAT AMERICAN TEA CO.,
    P O. Box 289. 31 and 33 Vesey St., New York.

       *       *       *       *       *


CANDY

Send $1, $2, $3, or $5 for a retail box by express of the best candies
in America, put up elegantly, and strictly pure. Suitable for presents.
Refers to all Chicago. Address

    GUNTHER, Confectioner, 78 Madison St., Chicago.

       *       *       *       *       *


NO SIDELING HEELS!

[Illustration]

NO BROKEN HEADS! SANFORD'S PERFECT HEEL PROTECTOR will keep the heel
square, will not slip, is not noisy, cannot work loose. Will save any
man or woman $1 in repairs. Ask your shoemaker for them or send 10 cts,
for sample pair to SANFORD MANUFACTURING CO., 89 High Street, Boston,
Mass.

       *       *       *       *       *


=117 PIECES.= 10 Lovely Dolls and wardrobe; 3 sets Doll's Parlor, Dining
and Bedroom Furniture all for 23cts. NOVELTY CO., Passaic, N. J.

       *       *       *       *       *


=100 SCRAP PICTURES=, no 2 alike and set of 4 large Adv. Cards for 10c.
C. C. DePUY, Syracuse, N. Y.

       *       *       *       *       *


FRENCH.--GERMAN.--SPANISH.

You can, by ten weeks' study, master either of these languages
sufficiently for every-day and business conversation, by Dr. Rich. S.
Rosenthal's celebrated =Meisterschaft System=. Terms, $5.00 for books of
each language, with privilege of answers to all questions, and
correction of exercises. Sample copy, Part I, 25 cents. Liberal terms to
Teachers.

Meisterschaft Publishing Co., Herald Building, Boston, Mass.

       *       *       *       *       *


TEACHER'S VACATIONS.

    During the summer months teachers can go to the

    Mountains or Seashore,

    and by devoting a little time each day to securing subscriptions
    for

    "Our Little Ones and The Nursery,"

    make sufficient money during the season from the liberal commission
    offered by the publishers, to

    Pay all their Expenses.

    To most teachers this little magazine is familiar, as it is
    largely used in schools throughout the country as a supplementary
    Reader. To any others a sample copy will be sent
    free, on application to the publishers.

    Confidential Terms sent to any Teacher.

    RUSSELL PUBLISHING CO., Boston, Mass.

       *       *       *       *       *


    GEO. A. FOXCROFT. CHARLES E. BROWN. WALTER M. JACKSON.

    _BOSTON REFERENCES { Lee and Shepard;
                       { Estes & Lauriat._

Boston Bureau of Advertising.

GEO. A. FOXCROFT, Manager.

_36 Bromfield Street, Boston, Mass._

Correspondence solicited and estimates furnished for any desired line of
advertising. Advertisements inserted in all first-class publications at
lowest rates.

       *       *       *       *       *


GATE CITY STONE FILTER,

[Illustration]

      "Simplest, Best and only Perfect Filter." S. W.
      Lambeth, Phila.

      "It makes our muddy river water clear, pure and sweet
      as mountain spring water. G. W. Stewart, Atty., St.
      Louis.

      "Best Filter in the world." Joseph Jones, M. D., New
      Orleans.

The demand so great the owners have opened a place in New York.

      "The Ne Plus Ultra of Filters." Dover Stamping Co.,
      Boston.

      "It is simply perfect. Prof. J. A. Gray, Atlanta.

      "A perfect Filter." L. Strauss & Sons, New York.

Avoid Cholera, Malaria, Brights Disease, Typhoid and Scarlet Fever. Send
stamp to _Gate City Stone Filter Co, 14 East 14th St., New York for
price list_.

       *       *       *       *       *


BROWN'S FRENCH DRESSING.


_The Original. Beware of Imitations._

Paris Medal on Every Bottle.

AWARDED HIGHEST PRIZE AND ONLY

[Illustration]

MEDAL, PARIS EXPOSITION, 1878.

       *       *       *       *       *


Fireworks and Decorations,

Flags, Balloons, Animal Figured Balloons, etc.

THE UNEXCELLED FIREWORKS CO.,

_The Largest Manufacturers of Fireworks in the World._

    "ALL COLORED" FIREWORKS ONLY.
      Sole Importers of Japanese Day Fireworks

B. NOYES, Agent, 90 Chauncy St., Boston.

Estimates furnished for Public and Private Displays. Catalogues mailed
on application, and mail orders promptly attended to.


Parson Wilder Calls on Mrs. Puffy.

By Neil Burgess.

[Illustration]

"It did my soul good," said Mrs. Puffy, "to see old Parson Wilder come
in, the dear old soul; he looked as smiling as a basket of chips, and it
was a nice morning, the sun shining right into our setting-room; and, as
luck would have it, I'd just got all cleaned up and had put on a clean
calico and white apron, and, if I do say it, I looked as slick as a
whistle; and our garden--well, you'd oughter to seen it--a mass of
posies and blossoms everywhere; and as it had rained in the night
everything was as fresh as a cowcumber. 'Well, well!' says the parson,
'this is a picture one could never forget,' and he looked at my floor
and kitchen-table; they were both white as snow, and my milk-pans--well
you could just see your face in 'em, and everything was as neat as a
pink.

[Illustration]

"I cut him a pie and got him a pitcher of milk, cause I could see he was
powerful hungry, and when he got filled up he commenced: 'Cleanliness is
next to Godliness; now,' says he, 'what makes this home look so bright
and pure as the lily?' Says I 'It's Sapolio.'

[Illustration]

"'How?' says he, putting his hand to his ear, 'cause he's a little deaf.
'Sapolio!' I yelled in his ear. 'No,' says he, 'no; it's virtoo, moral
virtoo, that's er shining through it all,' and he kept that up till
supper time, and stayed and eat a big supper (I'm afraid they ain't er
feeding the old man as well up to his house as they oughter); and after
he had gone hum, I couldn't help thinking, as I looked at my floor,
table, pans and etceterer, that it may be moral virtoo shining through
'em, _but it takes Sapolio to fetch it out!_"

If your grocer does not keep Sapolio he can order it for you from any
wholesale grocer in the United States.

What is Sapolio?

It is a solid, handsome cake of scouring soap, which has no equal for
all cleaning purposes, except the laundry.

What will Sapolio do? Why, it will clean paint, make oil cloths bright.
You can scour the knives and forks with it, and make the tin things
shine brightly.

The wash basin, the bath tub, even the greasy kitchen sink, will be as
clean as a new pin if you use SAPOLIO.

BEWARE OF IMITATIONS.

       *       *       *       *       *


[Illustration]

COLUMBIA

BICYCLES & TRICYCLES

Illustrated Catalogue sent Free.

THE POPE MFG. CO.

BOSTON MASS

       *       *       *       *       *


GRANULA

=An Incomparable Food.= Ready for _immediate use_. Unequaled for
_children_ and _invalids_. A delicious diet. Unsurpassed for
constipation and dyspepsia. Sold by Grocers. Box by mail, 48c. =Our Home
Granula Co.=, DANSVILLE, N. Y., Manufacturers.

       *       *       *       *       *


JOSEPH GILLOTT'S

STEEL PENS

SOLD BY ALL DEALERS THROUGHOUT THE WORLD

GOLD MEDAL PARIS EXPOSITION--1878.

       *       *       *       *       *


    Artist's Materials,
          of every description.

        Decorative Art Goods,
          Art Pottery, &c.

    FROST & ADAMS, Importers,
      37 Cornhill, Boston, Mass.

_Illustrated Catalogue free._

       *       *       *       *       *


GOLD MEDAL, PARIS, 1878.

[Illustration]

BAKER'S

Breakfast Cocoa.

Warranted _=absolutely pure Cocoa=_, from which the excess of Oil has
been removed. It has _three times the strength_ of Cocoa mixed with
Starch, Arrowroot or Sugar, and is therefore far more economical. It is
delicious, nourishing, strengthening, easily digested, and admirably
adapted for invalids as well as for persons in health.

Sold by Grocers everywhere.

W. BAKER & CO., Dorchester, Mass.

       *       *       *       *       *


[Illustration: MELLIN'S

FOOD

Trade Mark.

Ora et labora

FOR INFANTS & INVALIDS]

=The only perfect substitute= for Mother's Milk. The most nourishing
diet for invalids and nursing mothers. Keeps in all climates. Commended
by physicians. Sold everywhere. Send for our book "The Care and Feeding
of Infants." Sent free. DOLIBER, GOODALE & COMPANY.

    40, 41, 42 & 43 Central Wharf, Boston, Mass.

[Illustration]

For washing the hair only the very best soap and pure water should be
used.

The average soap contains too much free alkali, which draws the natural
oil from the hair and scalp, and leaves the former dry and lusterless
while it roughens the latter, causing scurf or dandruff.

The purity and mildness of the Ivory Soap gives it pre-eminence for
cleaning the hair and scalp. It contains no free alkali, so its use
insures a clean and healthy head of hair of the luster and softness of
silk.

       *       *       *       *       *

If your grocer does not keep the Ivory Soap, send six two-cent stamps,
to pay the postage, to Procter & Gamble, Cincinnati, and they will send
you _free_ a large cake of IVORY SOAP.]


[Illustration:

ALL THE LEADING DRUGGISTS SELL PEARS' SOAP

PEARS' SOAP

THE FAMOUS ENGLISH

COMPLEXION SOAP.

HIS OPINION OF PEARS' SOAP

      If Cleanliness is next to Godliness, Soap must be
      considered as a Means of Grace and a Clergyman who
      recommends moral things should be willing to recommend
      Soap. I am told that my commendation of Pears' Soap
      has opened for it a large sale in the United States. I
      am willing to stand by every word in favor of it that
      I ever uttered. A man must be fastidious indeed who is
      not satisfied with it.

                                        Henry Ward Beecher

ESTABLISHED in LONDON 100 Years.

GOOD COMPLEXION

NICE HANDS

PEARS SOAP

      I HAVE FOUND IT MATCHLESS FOR THE HANDS. COMPLEXION.

      Adelina Patti


A SPECIALTY FOR THE SKIN & COMPLEXION,

As recommended by the greatest English authority on the Skin,

PROF. SIR ERASMUS WILSON, F. R. S.

Pres. of the Royal Col. of Surgeons, England.

Nothing adds so much to personal appearance as a =Bright, Clear
Complexion and a Soft Skin=. With these the plainest features become
attractive. Without them the handsomest are but coldly impressive.

_Many a complexion is marred by impure alkaline and Colored Toilet
Soap._

PEARS' SOAP

Is specially prepared for the delicate skin of ladies and children and
others sensitive to the weather, winter or summer. In England it is
pre-eminently the complexion Soap, and is recommended by all the best
authorities, as, on account of its emollient, non-irritant character,
=Redness, Roughness and Chapping are prevented, and a clear and bright
appearance and a soft, velvety condition imparted and maintained, and a
good, healthful and attractive complexion ensured=.

Its agreeable and lasting perfume, beautiful appearance, and soothing
properties commend it as the greatest luxury of the toilet. Its
durability and consequent economy is remarkable.

15 INTERNATIONAL AWARDS.

ALL THE LEADING DRUGGISTS SELL PEARS' SOAP]


       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

Advertise in "Our Little Ones and The Nursery", "the the" changed to
"the" (the library shelf)

Page 270, "PEM" changed to "PENN" (PENN SHIRLEY)

Page 288, song, "hopless" changed to "hopeless" (rules is hopeless)

Ivory Soap advertisement, "healty" changed to "healthy" (and healthy
head of)