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THE

NURSERY

_A Monthly Magazine_

FOR YOUNGEST READERS.

VOLUME XXX.--No. 2.

    BOSTON:
    THE NURSERY PUBLISHING COMPANY,
    NO. 36 BROMFIELD STREET.
    1881.




    Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1881, by
    THE NURSERY PUBLISHING COMPANY,
    In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

[Illustration: JOHN WILSON & SON UNIVERSITY PRESS]




[Illustration: Contents.]


IN PROSE.

                                                PAGE
    The Young Fisherman                          225
    A slight Mistake                             227
    Two Games                                    231
    More about "Zip Coon"                        232
    Sam and his Goats                            234
    Mary's Squirrel                              240
    Drawing-Lesson                               241
    The Chimney-sweep                            244
    Billy and Bruiser                            246
    "If I were only a King"                      248
    Use before Beauty                            249
    Ten Minutes with Johnny                      251
    A Cat Story                                  252
    Tom's Apple                                  254


IN VERSE.

    The Hen-Yard Door                            228
    Toy-Land                                     238
    A Turtle Show                                242
    Two Little Maidens                           247
    Summer Rambles                               250
    See-Saw (_with music_)                       256




[Illustration]




THE YOUNG FISHERMAN.


WHEN Charley was eight years old, his father gave him, for a birthday
present, a nice fishing-line.

The little boy was greatly pleased. He had fished often in a tub of
water with a pin-hook; but now, for the first time, he had a real
fishing-line and pole, and was able to go a-fishing in earnest.

The very first pleasant day, he got leave from his father to go to the
pond and try his luck.

"Be sure to bring home a good mess of fish, Charley," said his father.

"Oh, yes! papa," said Charley, and with his fishing-pole on his shoulder
out he went.

What fun it was! First he dug some worms for bait; then he baited his
hook nicely; then he took his stand on a little platform, made on
purpose for the use of fishermen, and threw out his hook.

There he stood, in the shade of the old willow-tree, and waited for the
fish to bite. As he looked down into the calm, clear water, he saw a
boy, just about his own size, looking up at him. He had no other
company.

He kept close watch of the pretty painted cork, expecting every moment
to see it go under water. But for a long, long time it floated almost
without motion.

Charley's patience began to give out. "I don't believe there are any
fish here," thought he. Just then the cork dipped a little on one side.
Then it stopped. Then it dipped again.

"Hurrah!" said Charley, and he pulled up the line with a jerk. Was there
a fish on it? Not a bit of one. But the bait was all gone.

"Never mind!" said Charley, "I'll catch him next time." He baited the
hook, and threw it out again. The sport was getting exciting.

Pretty soon the cork bobbed under, as before. "Now I have him!" said
Charley. He pulled up once more, and this time with such a jerk that he
tossed the hook right over his head, and it caught in the weeds behind
him. But there was no fish on it.

"The third time never fails," said Charley, as he threw out his line
again. He waited now until the cork was pulled clear under water; then
he lifted it out, without too much haste, and, sure enough, he had
caught a fish.

How long do you suppose it had taken him to do it? Pretty nearly all the
forenoon. No matter! he had one fish to carry home, and he had had a
real good time besides.

Charley has caught many a mess of fish since then; but I doubt if he has
ever enjoyed the sport more than he did in catching that one fish.

                                              UNCLE SAM.





[Illustration]




A SLIGHT MISTAKE.


A DONKEY walking with a lion, fancied himself a lion also, and pretended
not to know his own brother.




[Illustration]




THE HEN-YARD DOOR.


    WHEN careless Tommy fed the fowls,
      He did not shut the door;
    Out came the rooster and the hens;
      Out came the pullets four;
    Out came old Speckle-wings, with six
      Bewitching little Bantam chicks.

    At once the hens began to cluck,
      The cock began to crow,
    And here and there, and everywhere,
      They seemed possessed to go;
    They pecked the turnips; in a patch
    Of spinach they began to scratch:
    And when to drive them in we tried
    They straightway to our neighbors hied.

[Illustration]

    Upon our right, a new-made lawn
      Was just with grass-seed sown;
    Upon our left, a garden-plot
      With pinks and lilies shone.
    In rushed our right-hand neighbor's son,
      With flaming face, and said,
    "'Shut up your hens,' my father says,
      Or he will shoot them dead."
    Our left-hand neighbor wrote a note,--
      "I all the spring have toiled
    To rear the lovely flowers I find
      Your roving fowls have spoiled."

    To get them home, the livelong day
    We tried, till evening gathered gray:
    Then back to roost returned the cock,
    But some were missing from his flock.
    Four hens were with him; where were two?
    Perhaps our right-hand neighbor knew!
    Back came the pullets, having fed
    On dainty pinks, and roses red;
    Back came old Speckle; of her six
    The cat had caught three little chicks.

    We shut the door, and made it fast;
    We all were glad the day was past:
    We'd lost our hens, and lost our friends;
      Our neighbors smile no more;
    And all because our careless Tom
      Forgot to shut the door!

                             MARIAN DOUGLAS.

[Illustration]




TWO GAMES.


[Illustration]

HERE is a boy, full ten years old, playing with a peg-top. What a sight!
He might find some better game, I should think. Why is he not out of
doors playing baseball? He is big enough to use his arms and legs?

[Illustration]

This girl could teach him a much better game than peg-top. She is out on
the lawn, all ready to play croquet. She will have fun and fresh air at
the same time. Those are two things that all girls and boys need.

                                                   C. B. A.




MORE ABOUT "ZIP COON."


"ZIP COON: he bites!" This is what I told you was printed in large red
letters on the door of Zip's house, after he had grown so cross and
snappish that he had to be chained up in the wood-shed.

A big countryman came one day with a load of potatoes. Zippy was inside
his house, pretending to take a nap. The man saw the printed letters on
the little door, and said to himself, "Zip Coon! where is he? I'd like
to see him." So he stooped down, and thrust his hand into the house.

You know you can never catch a coon asleep any more than you can a
weasel. Zippy's bright little eyes were wide open: so, when the
countryman's big hand came bouncing in at the door, Zip, quick as
lightning, seized it in his teeth, and gave it a terribly hard bite.

"Goodness, gracious sakes!" cried the man, pulling out his bleeding
hand. "What surprisin' chaps them coons be!" He hadn't seen Zippy; but
he felt enough of him: so he hurried down cellar with his potatoes, and
when he came back had the empty bag wound about his smarting hand.

Zip Coon was very fond of raw eggs. He would take one up in both his
hands, and pound it down hard on the wood-house floor. This would crack
the shell. Then he would turn the egg around, hold it to his mouth, and
suck the inside out, just as you would suck an orange. After he had
sucked the shell clean, he would put one little hand inside, scrape the
empty shell, and then lick his fingers so as to eat every bit of the
egg-meat.

One day, Isabella's sister Ellen gave Zippy a nice, large, fresh egg. He
was very glad to get it, you may be sure, and ate it as I have told you.
Then he wanted another, just as you sometimes want another orange. So
he took hold of Ellen's hand with one of his hands, and with the other
felt way up her sleeve and peeped up with his sharp eyes.

When he found no egg in the sleeve he was angry. He looked up in Ellen's
face in a very wicked way, then stooped down and buried his teeth in her
wrist. Then he turned and ran into the house, clanking his chain after
him.

[Illustration]

Zippy was not always so wicked as this, even after he had to be chained
up; but he was very mischievous. Once, the servants in the kitchen
heard a terrible racket in the wood-house. They went out there and found
Zippy on a high shelf where the blacking-brushes were kept. He was
throwing the blacking-boxes and brushes down, as fast as he could, and
there they lay scattered about the floor. His chain was so long, that he
had climbed up on the shelf and was having a good time.

But, after a while, Zip Coon became so fierce that Isabella didn't know
what to do with him. She was afraid he would do something terrible to
somebody: so she gave him to a man who carried him way off where
Isabella and her sisters never saw him any more. And this is all I have
to tell you about Zip Coon.

                                             HELEN MARR.




SAM AND HIS GOATS.


SAM was a boy about five years old. He lived in the country, and had a
nice little black-and-tan dog, Jack, to play with him. Sam wanted a
goat. He thought that if he could only have a goat, he would be
perfectly happy.

One day, when Sam was playing in the yard, his papa came driving home
from town, with something tied in the bottom of the wagon. When he saw
Sam, he stopped the horse and called, "Sam, come here, I have something
for you."

Sam ran there as fast as he could, and--what do you think?--papa lifted
two little goats out of the wagon, and put them down on the ground. One
goat was black and one was white. Sam was so glad he did not know what
to to do. He just jumped up and down with delight.

Then the dog Jack came running out to see the goats too; but he did not
like them much. He barked at them as hard as he could; but the goats did
not mind him at all.

Pretty soon mamma came to see what Sam had. When she saw the goats, she
said, "Why, papa, what will become of us if we have two goats on the
place?" But she was glad because Sam was glad; and Sam gave his papa
about a hundred kisses to thank him for the goats.

For some weeks, the goats ran about the yard, and ate the grass; and Sam
gave them water to drink, out of his little pail, and salt to eat, out
of his hand. He liked to feel their soft tongues on his hand as they ate
the salt. The goats would jump and run and play, and Sam thought it was
fine fun to run and play with them. Jack would run too, and bark all the
time.

[Illustration]

But by and by Sam began to get tired of his goats, and his mamma was
more tired of them than Sam was. They ate the tops off of her nice
rose-bushes; they ran over her flower-beds; and one day, when the door
was open, one of them ran into the parlor and jumped up on the best
sofa.

Mamma said this would never do: so the next day papa found a man who
said he would give Sam fifty cents for the white goat. As Sam wanted to
buy a drum, he was glad to sell the goat; and with fifty cents in his
pocket he felt very rich.

Then the other goat was put in the orchard, and he liked it there very
much. He liked to have Sam come and play with him. As soon as he saw Sam
coming, he would run to meet him, and push him with his head, in play,
and try to jump on him.

The goat grew very fast,--much faster than Sam did; so that soon he was
quite a big goat, while Sam was still a very small boy. He got to be so
much stronger that Sam, that Sam was a little afraid of him.

[Illustration]

One day, when they were playing, the goat hit Sam with his head, and
knocked him down. Sam was scared. He got up, fast as he could, and tried
to run to the gate; but the goat ran after him, and Sam had to climb
into a tree. It was a nice apple-tree. Sam had often sat up there
before, and liked it; but, now that he was forced to sit there, he did
not like it at all.

The goat staid at the foot of the tree, and, when Sam tried to come
down, he would shake his head at him, as if to say, "Come down if you
dare." Sam did not dare. "Oh, dear!" said he, "what shall I do?"

There were some green apples on the tree; and Sam thought, that, if he
threw them at the goat, he could drive him away: so he began to pick the
apples, and throw them at the goat.

[Illustration]

The first one hit the goat right on his head; but it did not hurt him at
all. He just went to where the apple lay, and ate it up; and every time
that Sam threw an apple at him the goat would eat it, and then look at
Sam, as if to say, "That is good. Give me some more."

At last Sam said, "Oh, you bad, bad goat! I wish you would go away. If
you don't go away, I'm afraid I shall cry." Then he thought of Jack, and
called, "Here, Jack! Here, Jack!" Jack came running up to see what Sam
wanted. Sam said, "At him, Jack! At him, Jack!"

Jack ran at the goat, and barked at him and tried to bite him; but the
goat kept turning his head to Jack, so that Jack could not get a chance
to bite him. At last the goat got tired of hearing Jack bark, and
thought he would give him one hard knock, and drive him away.

So he took a step or two back, and then ran forward, as hard as he
could, to hit Jack. But, when his head got to where Jack had been, Jack
was not there: he had jumped away. The goat was going so fast, that he
could not stop himself, but tumbled over his head, and came down on his
back with his legs sticking up in the air.

Sam laughed so hard that he almost fell out of the tree, and Jack was so
glad, that he jumped and barked, and tried to bite the goat's legs. At
last the goat got up and walked over to the other side of the orchard as
far as he could go. Then Sam jumped down out of the tree, and ran to
tell his mamma all about it.

                                               MARY DEY.




TOY-LAND.


    AND how do you get to Toy-land?
    To all little people the joy-land.
        Just follow your nose,
        And go on tip-toes:
    It's only a minute to Toy-land.

    And oh! but it's gay in Toy-land,--
    This bright, merry girl-and-boy-land;
        And woolly dogs white
        That never will bite
    You'll meet on the highways in Toy-land.

    Society's fine in Toy-land;
    The dollies all think it a joy-land;
        And folks in the ark
        Stay out after dark;
      And tin soldiers regulate Toy-land.

    There's fun all the year in Toy-land:
    To sorrow 'twas ever a coy-land;
        And steamboats are run,
        And steam-cars, for fun:
    They're wound up with keys down in Toy-land.

    Bold jumping-jacks thrive in Toy-land;
    Fine castles adorn this joy-land;
        And bright are the dreams,
        And sunny the beams,
    That gladden the faces in Toy-land.

    How long do we live in Toy-land?--
    This bright, merry girl-and-boy-land;
        A few days, at best,
        We stay as a guest,
    Then good-by forever to Toy-land!

                     GEORGE COOPER.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




MARY'S SQUIRREL.


I WANT to tell you about the little squirrel we have. His name is
Frisky. He came from New Jersey, and was quite tame when we got him. We
thought it would be better to let him out in the fresh air among the
trees; so we let him out.

I was away at aunt Lizzie's; but I came home early. Just as Henry and I
were going to bed,--Henry is my brother,--the cook called me, and, of
course, Henry came after me to see what was the matter.

I could not understand what it was at first; but pretty soon I saw it
was Frisky up in one of the trees on our place. Frisky never bites: so
it was not much trouble to catch him.

All the servants were there; but they could not catch him, because he
did not know them: so I made them stand back, and held out a peanut to
him. He came down and ate it; then he trusted me, and came down and ate
another. As soon as I got him within reach, I seized him and gave him to
William, the gardener, who, while I held the door open, popped him into
his cage. I am eight years old, and my name is

                                             MARY WINSOR.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: DRAWING-LESSON.

VOL. XXX.--NO. 2.]




A TURTLE SHOW.


    DOWN in the pond, where willows grow
    Along the shore in a golden row,
      Is a single rock with its mossy ridge,
    And a log as mossy, resting there
    Half in the water, and half in the air,
      From shore to islet a beautiful bridge;
    And the lily-pads on either side
    Might tempt the little green frogs to ride;
    And the lily-blooms, so purely made,
    Do tempt the little white feet to wade.

    What do you think I saw one day
    In the month of June, as I passed that way?
    Five little turtles, all in a row,
    On the top of the log,--a funny show,--
    For they carried their houses on their backs,
    And tucked their toes out through the cracks
    Under the eaves! while their heads and tails
    Played hide-and-seek behind the scales.

    They had golden dots on every shell;
    And they stood so still, and "dressed" so well,
    You might think they were called up to spell;
    And a "master" turtle, big and brown,
    On the top of the rock sat looking down
    In a learned way, as you might say
    To "put out words,"--and perhaps 'twas so,
    Though I heard no word,--but this, I know,
    The five little heads looked so very wise
    With their little bead eyes, they must have heard
    If ever the master pronounced a word.

[Illustration]

    In school or not, it was getting hot;
    And by and by, as the sun rose high,
    With the June-like drowsiness it sheds,
    They could not keep from going to sleep;
    And what do you think they did with their heads?
    Swallowed them! Oh, then, laugh, if you will;
    But true it is, still:
    Into their necks, as a sailor would slide
    His spy-glass into its leathern hide,
    They slid their five little heads away
    From the sight of man and the light of day.

    While I stood watching them, still as a mouse,
    Pleased at their comical way to keep house,
      I heard a terrible splash and croak,
    As a great bull-frog leapt up on the log,
      In a way to frighten such simple folk.
    Five little turtles, quick as a wink,
    Into the water slip and sink;
    And one big turtle, just as quick,
    Off from the log goes down like a brick.

    Ah, well! my turtles are not like boys,
    They can live in the pond, and they do hate noise!

                                 GEORGE S. BURLEIGH.




THE CHIMNEY-SWEEP.


LITTLE Mary in the picture is afraid of Jacob, the chimney-sweep. He
does look black and ugly; but he is a good boy, for all that, and Mary
ought not to be afraid of him.

His parents died when he was very small, and he was bound out to a
master, who taught him how to clean chimneys. Jacob did not like the
work at first, and was afraid to go up the chimney; but now that he has
got used to it, he likes it quite well. He sometimes sings a merry song
while he is at work.

[Illustration]

Mary's mother has sent for him to come and clean out her chimney; for it
is choked up with soot, and she cannot make her fire burn.

                                           LEONORA, from the German.




[Illustration]




BILLY AND BRUISER.


BILLY is a small boy: Bruiser is a big dog. They are great friends.
Billy gets on Bruiser's back, and treats him as if he were a horse.

Bruiser takes this as a good joke. He likes to have Billy play with him
in this way. But it would not be safe for anybody else to do it.

Bruiser is a grand watch-dog. One day the old dog gave a fierce growl to
keep off a butterfly.

He thought the butterfly was going to attack Billy. Billy had a good
laugh at this; for, small as he is, he thinks he is a match for a
butterfly.

                                             UNCLE CHARLES.




TWO LITTLE MAIDENS.


    THIS little maiden is out for a walk,
    A fair little maiden is she;
    And I really believe she is having a talk
    With a bird flying down from a tree.
    She asks him to tell of his home in the woods;
    He sings of the summer so gay;
    While a very tall maiden sits by on the grass,
    And hears every word that they say.

                                       F. E. D.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




"IF I WERE ONLY A KING."


ONE fine, warm, summer day, four children were playing together in the
garden.

"Oh!" said one of them, "if I were only a king, I would live in a
beautiful castle that should reach up to the clouds."

"And I," said another, "would wear nothing but gold and silver clothes."

"If I were one," cried a little boy, "I would do nothing but eat cake
and pudding all day long."

"And I," said a little girl, blushing, "would give money to all the poor
children I saw, so that they might buy food and clothes."

Which of these children do you think would have made the best ruler?

                                           LEONORA, from the German.




USE BEFORE BEAUTY.


THE hens and turkeys were scratching for their breakfast in front of the
barn-door; while the dog lay lazily looking on. The proud peacock stood
on the fence near by, and spread his tail out, that the morning sun
might shine on it, and make it still more beautiful.

[Illustration]

"Ah!" said the peacock to one of the hens, "do you not wish that you
were as handsome as I am? Then you would never have to scratch for your
food, but would be fed and taken care of and admired."

"I wish nothing of the kind," said the hen. "There is something which
men prize more than beauty, and that is usefulness. If I were as fine
and gay as you are, men would miss the eggs I lay."

"That is just my view of the case," said a goose. "If I were not a
goose, I should like to be a hen. I would not be a lazy peacock."

"She is quite right," said the dog. "You are very beautiful to look at,
Master Peacock, but that is all you are good for. Take comfort in your
fine feathers, but don't boast."

                                           LEONORA, from the German.




SUMMER RAMBLES.


    BRING the children to the fields,
      Where the sheep are straying;
    With the birds and butterflies
      Let them now be playing,--
    In the hollow on the hill,
      All the green lawn over,
    Through the yellow buttercups,
      Down among the clover.

    With the sunshine in their hearts,
      In their cheeks the roses,
    Let them breathe the balmy air,
      Let them gather posies.
    In the merry month of June,
      Summer's fairest weather,
    Let the children and the flowers
      Bud and bloom together.

                    ANNA LIVINGSTON.

[Illustration]




TEN MINUTES WITH JOHNNY.


"DO grandpa's cows chew gum, like Mr. Connor's cows, mamma?" asked
Johnny, a few days ago, as he stood emptying his pockets of hay-seed on
the dining-room carpet, after a visit to the barn.

"Cuds you mean, don't you, dear?" asked mamma.

"No, gum. Mr. Connor says it's gum; and they're his cows: so he knows."

"No, grandpa's cows chew cuds, like all good grass-eating cows. Perhaps
Mr. Connor's cows do not eat grass or hay."

"Yes, they do," said Johnny. "I've seen 'em."

"Well, then," said mamma, "they must chew cuds."

"What are cuds, mamma?"

"Why, after the cow has chewed the fresh green grass or the dry hay in
her mouth, she sends it down into a large stomach, to be soaked; then
she sends it into another stomach, to be rolled into balls; then up it
goes into her mouth again, to be chewed over; and each little ball is a
cud."

"Doesn't she have any other stomach for it to go into then, mamma?"

"Yes, two more. Do you have four stomachs, like a cow?"

"No, of course I don't. I don't chew cuds."

"Well, you may get a brush and dust-pan, and brush up that hay-seed from
the carpet; then come with me, and I'll show you a picture of a giant
kangaroo with her baby in a fur bag."

"Oh! where does she live, mamma?"

"Brush up that hay-seed, then I'll tell you all about her," said mamma.
With this promise in view, Johnny hastened to brush up the litter he
had made, talking to himself the while, somewhat after this wise,--

"Chew away, old cow! You'll have to keep your big teeth going all night
to keep all those stomachs at work. One stomach, two stomachs,
three-e-e, four-r-r. All ready, mamma!"

                                             MRS. G. I. HOPKINS.




A CAT STORY.


DID you ever see a cat laugh? Look at the cat in the picture, and see if
she is not laughing. It is plain to me that she is.

What is she laughing at? Why, that is plain enough too. She is amused at
the talk of those two little girls about her kittens.

There are four kittens,--just two for each; but little Jenny wants to
take them all up in her arms, though she can hardly hold more than one.
This is what pleases the old cat.

Now I am going to tell you a cat story.

Once, when I taught school in the country, I boarded at farmer Clark's
house, where there were sixteen cats,--Yes, sixteen cats! There was a
big yellow cat, and a big gray cat, and a big black-and-white cat, and
lots of little kittens.

The big gray cat was named Gussy. She was the grandmother of them all.
She lived in the house. The rest staid around the barn. Farmer Clark was
a good man, and did not believe in killing any thing that was not
dangerous to life or property. So no little kittens were drowned, if he
knew it.

Mrs. Clark taught me how to make butter; and I was told to feed the
skimmed milk to the cats. There were two large dish-pans that I used
for this purpose. They were shallow and leaky; but precious little time
there was for the milk to leak.

[Illustration]

As soon as I appeared at the door, and called, "Tom, Tom!" the cats came
tumbling, pell-mell, mewing, and rubbing against me. It was a sight to
see.

First, there would be a thick row of cats around the pans,--so thick
that only sixteen tails and thirty-two hind-legs could be seen. The next
minute the heads would go lower, and the fore-paws would go up on the
edge of the pans.

Then a kitten would jump in. Then they would all fight, and push, and
spit, and snarl to get to the lower side of the pan, where the milk was
the deepest.

And then it was all gone. And the pans would be licked clean. And then
sixteen tongues licked sixteen jaws, and thirty-two eyes appealed for
more. But it was no use to beg. Then sixty-four legs trotted off, and
only old Gussy went into the house; while the others went to the barn.

There were no rats or mice around those premises, I tell you. I often
wonder how many cats there are at farmer Clark's now. And sometimes I
dream about them. This is a true story.

                                             AUNT FAN.




TOM'S APPLE.


"BAH! ugh! oh!" cried little Tom. "There's a worm in my red apple,
mamma."

"Is he a pretty worm?" asked his mamma, looking up from her sewing.

"Pretty, mamma! Who ever heard of a worm being pretty? No, no! he's a
horrid crawling thing. I sha'n't eat any more of the apple. I couldn't,
now I've seen him in it."

"Let me see him," said mamma: so Tommy brought the apple to his mother.

"Why, yes, he's a beauty," said she. "Just look at that little red cap
he wears, and see how soft and white his skin is. If nobody had picked
that apple, he would have spun a little rope from out his body, and let
himself down from the high tree, down, down, to the earth.

"Then he would have crawled into a little hole in the ground. When he
had covered himself all over with a gray sheet, he would sleep, sleep,
sleep. But by and by he would awaken.

"He would come out of the tight shroud, and find that he had airy, gauzy
wings with which he could fly: so he would go flitting and fluttering up
into the warm sunshine to find an apple-blossom."

"What would he want of an apple-blossom?" asked Tommy, much interested
now in his apple-worm.

"Oh, to lay an egg in," said mamma. "And, when the apple-blossoms grew,
the egg would be softly wrapped within its pink heart. And when the
blossom turned into an apple there would be a tiny baby-worm to feed
upon the white pulp. Then some day, perhaps, some other little boy would
exclaim, 'Bah! ugh! oh!' about him, as my little boy did just now about
the mamma-worm."

"Oh!" said Tom thoughtfully. "I'm glad nobody will have that chance:
here goes."

And he tossed the apple, worm and all, out of the window.

                                             MRS. G. I. HOPKINS.

[Illustration]




SEE-SAW.

    Words by GEORGE COOPER.             Music by T. CRAMPTON.

[Illustration: Music]

    1. See-saw! high and low,
       That's the way we love to go.
           With a bound,
             Up we fly,
           From the ground
             To the sky;
           From the ground
             To the sky.
       All aboard for Fun-land, oh!
       See-saw! high and low.

    2. See-saw! birdies play
       On the tree-tops, just this way;
           And the bees
             Rock the rose,
           When they please
             With their toes!
       And the winds the wavelets blow,
       See-saw! high and low.

    3. See-saw! oh, what sport!
       Wish the days were not so short!
           Girls and boys,
             Everywhere,
           Rosy joys,
             Earth so fair!
       Gayer playmates do you know?
       See-saw! high and low.

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Notes: Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

The original text for the July issue had a table of contents that
spanned six issues. This was divided amongst those issues.

Additionally, only the July issue had a title page. This page was copied
for the remaining five issues. Each issue had the number added on the
title page after the Volume number.





End of Project Gutenberg's The Nursery, August 1881, Vol. XXX, by Various