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THE

NURSERY

_A Monthly Magazine_

FOR YOUNGEST READERS.

VOLUME XXX.--No. 3.

    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
    "Home in Sight"                              257
    Nellie and Kitty                             259
    The Prisoner                                 260
    Two Pets                                     264
    The Wounded Lamb                             268
    Lisa                                         270
    Drawing-Lesson                               273
    The Pet Fawn                                 275
    The little Flower-Girl                       278
    Feeding the Ducks                            281
    Lonely Jack                                  284


IN VERSE.

    Contentment                                  261
    The Brook                                    262
    Blueberrying                                 265
    The Soldiers                                 272
    Jenny and Benny                              274
    How the Sheep found Bo-peep                  277
    Mabel and the Bust                           280
    "Tit for Tat"                                283
    Little Busybody                              287
    The Morning Sail (_with music_)              288





[Illustration]




"HOME IN SIGHT."


"COME on deck, all hands, old and young, great and small, sick and well!
Here is a sight that will do you good."

So said the bluff old captain to his passengers. Up they came, one after
another, at the summons. The lady who was so worn down with sea-sickness
sat with her head resting languidly on her husband's shoulder. The rest
stood in groups, looking out upon the water.

The voyage had been a long one, and, though they were not all sea-sick,
all were heartily sick of the sea,--all except two little children, a
girl and a boy, whose faces were always bright and merry.

"What is there to be seen, captain?" said the children's mother, after
trying in vain to make out any thing except sea and sky.

"Don't you know?" said the old man. "Let me point it out then to this
little sailor."

So, taking little Willie in his arms while the vessel leaned before the
breeze, he pointed with his forefinger, and said, "Do you see that
dark-blue cloud right on the edge of the water, just where it meets the
sky?"

"Yes, I see it," said the bright-eyed youngster.

"Well, do you know what it is, my lad? It isn't a cloud at all. That's
land. Now do you know what land it is?"

"No, sir," said Willie.

"Then I'll tell you. It is old Cape Cod.--We are in sight of home,
ladies and gentlemen," said the captain addressing his passengers. "We
shall make Boston Light to-night, if this wind holds good."

This speech brought great applause. Then the captain sang out,--

    "Cheer up, my lively lads, spite of wind and weather!
     Cheer up, my lively lads, and we'll go home together!"

"Hold me up," said little Ellen, "and let me see."

Then the captain held her up too; and when the children's mother, who
had a fine voice, started the song,--

    "Home again, home again,
     From a foreign shore,"

all the passengers, not even excepting the sick lady, took part in the
chorus.

                                            ANNA LIVINGSTON.




[Illustration]




NELLIE AND KITTY.


SEE little Nellie playing with her kitten. She had waked up early; but
nurse was not ready to dress her.

She was just going to cry, when the kitten jumped up on the bed, and
stood there with such a comical look, that, instead of crying, Nellie
could not help laughing.

Then she got a string and began to play with kitty; so that when the
nurse came in she found them both quite happy.

One day, Nellie was playing with her doll, and put it down in her lap.
Kitty, who had been watching her all the time, jumped up in Nellie's
lap, pushed the doll out, and lay down, looking at her mistress, as if
to say,--

"What did you take her up for? I am the only one that has any right
here."

                                              L. E. H.




[Illustration]




THE PRISONER.


THE old hawk has been caught at last, and has been put in a cage, from
which he cannot escape to do any more mischief. The fowls all come from
the barnyard to see him. They dare go near him now, for they know he
cannot harm them.

The sparrow looks saucily at him, saying, "Ah, ha, Sir Hawk! You have
scared me many a time with your sharp claws and hooked beak; but now I
am a match for you. It was fine fun for you to kill little chickens. Now
you see what comes of it."

"Yes indeed," cries the turkey, "he killed seven dear little chickens.
How glad I am that he is caught at last! I'll give him a piece of my
mind now, but he can't have any more chickens."

"Ah!" says the hawk, "you talk very bravely; but, if I were let out of
this cage, you would not stare at me much longer."

The fowls walk slowly away without saying more. But the pert young
sparrow bristles up, and dares the hawk to come out and fight him. It is
very easy to be brave when there is no danger.

                                              LEONORA, from the German.




CONTENTMENT.


    WHEN the roses bloom sweet and red,
    And the daisy has lifted her shining head;
    When birds are still in the brooding nest,--
    Of all the seasons summer is best.

    When the golden-rod's torches shine,--
    And the purple grapes drop ripe from the vine;
    When the reddening maples light up the way,
    There is nothing so good as an autumn day.

    When the hills are white with snow,
    And only the frostflowers dare to blow;
    When sleigh-bells chime from far and near,--
    Winter's the best time of all the year.

    When the wild brooks begin to leap,
    And out of the earth the mosses creep;
    When swallows twitter, and robins call,--
    Spring is the very best time of all.

                             MARY N. PRESCOTT.




[Illustration]




THE BROOK.


        FROM a fountain
        In a mountain,
      Drops of water ran,
    Trickling through the grasses
      So our brook began.

        Slow it started;
        Soon it darted,
      Cool and clear and free,
    Rippling over pebbles,
      Hurrying to the sea.

[Illustration]

        Children straying
        Came a-playing
      On its pretty banks:
    Glad, our little brooklet
      Sparkled up its thanks.

        Blossoms floating,
        Mimic boating,
      Fishes darting past,--
    Swift and strong and happy,
      Widening very fast,

        Bubbling, singing,
        Rushing, ringing,
      Flecked with shade and sun,
    Soon our pretty brooklet
      To the sea has run.

                ELLEN SOULE CARHART.

[Illustration]




TWO PETS.

[Illustration]

ANN has a large black cat, of which she is very fond. See how she clasps
it in her arms! She pets it and hugs it from morning till night. I think
the cat loves Ann too; for it does not even try to scratch her.

[Illustration]

But here is a better pet than a cat. It is a dear little babe in its
nurse's arms. The nurse is taking it out for a walk. She loves it
dearly, and see how lovingly it clings to her! Love wins love, you know.

                                              I. H. G.




[Illustration]




BLUEBERRYING.


    THE grass is scorching in the sun;
      'Tis summer's hottest weather;
    But Dick and Tom start bravely forth
      For blueberries together.
    Their tin pails glitter in the light,
      The dippers in them rattle,
    As up the long green lane they go,
      Among the browsing cattle.

    Close underneath the pasture fence
      They find some scattered bushes:
    "There is some better place beyond,"
      Says Dick, and on he pushes,
    Through tangled brake, o'er stumbling stones,
      And up some steep black ledges,
    Where thick the blueberry-bushes grow
      Along the rocky edges.

    "But these are very dry and small,"
      Says Tommy: "I would rather
    Look round and find some better place,
      And larger berries gather."
    Down the sharp rocks, across the brook,
      And through a bog, they ramble:
    They find some berries, big and blue,
      Outpeering from a bramble.

    "These dreadful running blackberry-vines!"
      Says Dick: "they are so prickly!
    I will not stop; some better place
      We surely shall find quickly."
    Through the long field they wandering stray,
      In the hot sunshine going:
    "Beneath the wood-lot trees," says Tom,
      "There must be nice ones growing."

    And so they find them thick and ripe;
      But, from among them darting,
    A hissing adder lifts its head,
      And, suddenly upstarting,
    The frightened boys drop both their pails,
      The berries from them spilling.
    "Let's hurry home," says Tom. Says Dick,
      "I'm sure that I am willing."

    So back they come with tattered clothes,
      Scratched, sunburnt, soiled, and tired;
    "To go again," says pouting Tom,
      "I never could be hired."
    "Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!" cries Dick,
      A doleful little fretter,
    "We've lost each good place we have had,
      By looking for a better!"

                            MARIAN DOUGLAS.

[Illustration]




THE WOUNDED LAMB.


EARLY one bright morning, three little girls who were spending the
summer on their uncle's farm went out to gather wild flowers in the
woods not far from the house. Just as they came to the edge of the wood,
they heard the faint bleating of a lamb.

They listened, keeping very still, but could not make out where the
sound came from. Then Mary, the eldest of the three, said, "Let us each
go a different way, and hunt till we find the poor little thing."

They did so; and in a few minutes, Lulu the youngest called to the
others, "I've found it! I've found it! Come, Mollie and Bessie, come
quick and help me; for the dear little lamb is hurt, and I'm afraid it
will die."

You may be sure that they all ran quickly, and it was well that they
did; for the lamb had broken its leg, and could not have lived much
longer if some one had not taken care of it. They found Lulu trying to
help the poor creature; but she could do little except to soothe it.

Just then Bessie looked up, and saw the farmer not far off. She called
loudly to him. He came at once, took the lamb tenderly in his arms,
carried it home, laid it on a soft bed, and gave it some warm milk.

Very soon the lamb began to revive, much to the delight of the children;
and little Lulu would hardly leave its side all that day.

With such kind care the lamb got well fast. It soon became a great pet
with all the little girls, though their uncle said, that, as Lulu had
found it, she should give it a name, and call it hers.

For some time she was quite puzzled to know what to call it; but one
day, when Bessie was stroking it, she said, "Why lambie, your fleece is
as fine and soft as floss!"

[Illustration]

"Oh, now I know what to call this pet," said Lulu, "I'll call it
Flossy," and it went by that name all summer.

The next winter, when their uncle came to see them in the city, the
children inquired for their little pet, Flossy.

"Flossy is a big sheep now," he said; "but I think she remembers you,
for when I go among the flock, she always comes and rubs her nose
against me, and looks up, as much as to say, 'Where are those three
girls that used to play with me last summer?'"

                                              EMILY CARTER




LISA.


LISA was a little German girl who lived in a village on the seacoast.
Her father was a fisherman, and sometimes he would take her with him on
pleasant days when he went in his boat.

They would start in the morning, and after sailing about, and catching a
good load of fish, would come home at noon to the nice dinner which
Lisa's elder sister had prepared for them.

One day Lisa was alone in the house. Her sister had gone away to spend
the day, and her father was out fishing. A heavy storm came up. It
rocked the house, and blew the shutters to and fro; but Lisa never
heeded it, for she was thinking of her father.

After the storm had ceased, she went to the door and looked out. An old
fisherman was passing with his son. She asked him about her father. He
pointed out the place where he had seen him before the storm, and said,
"I fear that your father's boat has been driven upon the rocks, for it
is no longer to be seen."

Without a moment's delay, Lisa tied on her hat, and hastened down to the
shore. She got into a boat, and was pushing off, when an old sailor
stopped her, and asked her where she was going.

"I am going in search of my father," said she.

"I will go with you, my good girl," said the sailor; and he sprang into
the boat, and took the oars.

They rowed out to the rocks, for the sea had gone down. Poor Lisa's
heart sank within her as she gazed upon that angry coast; for the first
thing that caught her eyes was a fragment of a boat.

Yes, her father's boat had surely been wrecked. "Oh, my dear, dear
father!" said Lisa, bursting into tears, "I shall never see him again."

[Illustration]

But hark! There comes a shout, "Boat ahoy!" Lisa's heart beats wildly,
for it is her father's voice. Quick as thought, the sailor pulls to the
place where the sound came from. And there Lisa found her father
clinging to a rock. What a joyful meeting there was! And how happy Lisa
felt to think that she had gone so promptly to the rescue!

There were thankful hearts in the fisherman's cottage that night; and
Lisa never forgot the good old sailor who had proved such a true friend
in time of need.

                                                   IDA FAY.




THE SOLDIERS.


    FIVE gallant soldiers standing in a row,
    Five nimble soldiers marching to and fro.
              First General Spry,
              Next Colonel Try,
              Then Major Tall,
              And Sergeant Dapper,
              And Corporal Small.

    Five gallant soldiers all in fine array,
    Five dashing soldiers meet them on the way.
              First General Stout,
              Next Colonel Look-out,
              Then Major Trim,
              And Sergeant Taper,
              And Corporal Slim.

    Ten gallant soldiers waiting our command,
    Look, and you will see them,--five upon each hand.

                                          GEORGE COOPER.




[Illustration: DRAWING-LESSON.

VOL. XXX--NO. 3.]




JENNY AND BENNY.


[Illustration]

    WAS ever child so lovely!
      Was ever child so fair!
    Had ever child such bright blue eyes,
      Such lips, such golden hair!
    Say, is there any baby
      With this one to compare?

    Oh, yes! there is one other
      That's just as good as she:
    It is my baby-brother,
      Whose picture here you see.

                           N. M. O.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




THE PET FAWN.


ONE day, Albert, who lived in a city, received a letter from his papa,
who was absent in the country, which I think my little readers will
enjoy also, and so I have got Albert's permission to give it to them.
This is the letter:--

      _My dear little Boy_,--In a lonely place, just at the
      edge of a wood, where I was detained, week before
      last, I came across a most delightful little pet. You
      could not guess in twenty guesses what it was, and so
      I will tell you at once.

      It was a fawn about eight months old. I am sure if you
      could have seen him you would never have given papa a
      moment's rest till you had him as your own pet; and
      perhaps I shall have something to say to you about
      that by and by.

      Well, this charming little pet was of a light
      yellowish-brown color, and over his whole body were
      white spots about the size of a dime.

      Some boys had surprised him asleep, when he was about
      a week old, and had carefully taken him home with
      them. There he had been tended and made much of by the
      whole family, and so he had grown to have a genuine
      affection for his captors.

      He was allowed full freedom to go about the woods as
      he chose, and never failed to return at night; and
      when called by name--for the boys had named him
      Dick--he would come bounding up as if he dearly loved
      to be petted.

      It was amusing to see him eat milk. When the saucer
      was set before him and he commenced to lap the milk,
      he would beat a tattoo with one of his front feet. He
      never lapped his saucer of milk without, in this
      manner, beating the floor with his hoof.

      Now, my little boy, I do wish that these boys might be
      induced to sell this fawn. If I could get him, don't
      you think a little boy that I could name would have a
      beautiful pet? But we will not expect too much, will
      we?

                                        Your loving PAPA.

I want to tell my little readers that Albert has a fawn which he calls
his own and pets and caresses. It has a blue ribbon around its neck with
a little bell attached, and we all laugh to see it beat a tattoo with
its little foot while it laps milk from a saucer. Albert says, "It's ten
times more beautiful, and a hundred times dearer than papa wrote about."

                                              CHARLES T. JEROME.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




HOW THE SHEEP FOUND BO-PEEP.


    LITTLE Bo-peep awoke from her sleep;
      Her eyes opened wide and wider;
    For she found herself seated on the grass
      With an old sheep standing beside her.

    "Little Bo-peep," said the good old sheep,
      "How glad I am that we've found you!
    Here we are--rams and sheep and lambs--
      All flocking up around you."

    "You blessed sheep," said little Bo-peep,
      "I've been worried to death about you."
    "We've been searching for you," said the good old sheep:
      "We wouldn't go home without you."

                                          DORA BURNSIDE.




[Illustration]




THE LITTLE FLOWER-GIRL.


HELEN GRAHAM was spending the winter with her mother in Nice. This is a
charming place in the south of France, on the shore of the Mediterranean
Sea, and their home there was in a pretty villa.

One morning, as Helen was watering and trimming her plants at the open
window,--for the air is warm and pleasant in Nice, even in winter,--she
heard a soft voice calling just underneath, "_Mademoiselle, achetez mes
fleurs, s'il vous plait?_" In English this means, "Please buy my
flowers, miss?"

Helen looked down, and there stood a little barefooted, dark-eyed girl,
a good deal smaller than herself, holding up a bunch of roses and
violets. Her face was so sweet and smiling, that Helen could not refuse
her: so she said in French, "How much are they, little girl?"

"_Dix centimes seulement_" ("only two cents"), she replied.

[Illustration]

"Come round to the door, and I will buy them," said Helen.

The girl ran quickly to the door. When Helen learned from her that her
mother was very poor, she gave her more than the price of her flowers;
and the little girl's face fairly beamed with delight when she went
away.

                                              IDA FAY.




MABEL AND THE BUST.


    UPON the floor our little Mabel sits,
      Gazing, with wonder and delight,
    Upon a marble bust. She cons it o'er,
      With visage keen and bright,
    Till cautiously upon the stone she lays
      Her dimpled fingers white.

[Illustration]

    A tiny frown drives all the smiles away.
      She scans the image with a rueful stare,
    Then turning from it with a quivering lip,
      The fickle baby wails in deep despair.
    "What is it that disturbs my little pet?"
      _She cannot pull his hair!_

                                        W. G.




[Illustration]




FEEDING THE DUCKS.


"SPEAK for it if you want it," said little Johnny, holding out a piece
of bread to the old duck.

She had just come in with her large family from a swim in the pond.

"Quack, quack!" said the duck, waddling up, and opening her great bill.

"Don't let the old duck swallow your finger, Johnny!" said Ellen.

Johnny dropped the bread. The greedy duck snatched it, and in less than
half a minute she opened her great bill again, and quacked for more.

Meanwhile grandma had been throwing out meal to the ducklings. But one
pert little duckling was not satisfied with that.

[Illustration]

He lifted up his head, and fluttered his little bits of wings, and
opened his mouth, and tried to quack, as much as to say,--

"I don't like meal and water. I want to have what ma has. Give me some
too."

This made Ellen laugh: it was so like some children that she had seen!

                                              UNCLE CHARLES.




"TIT FOR TAT."


    LITTLE Tommy Tompkins sitting on a log
    Holds a conversation with a consequential frog.

    "Little Tommy Tompkins," says that frog, says he,
    "Yesterday I saw you fling a stone at me.

    "I had my new green coat on: you nearly ruined that!
    Little Tommy Tompkins, I believe in 'tit for tat.'"

    "Please, I didn't mean to," cries Tommy in affright,
    "I know--boo-hoo--'twas wrong. I know it wasn't right."

    "Little Tommy Tompkins," the dreadful frog replies,
    "Dry your tears, and stop your noise, and from that log arise.

    "The sport of being stoned you shall have a chance to see;
    I hope it will be fun for you; 'twill be jolly fun for me."

    Then on a sudden Tommy goes tumbling with a splash
    Down to the muddy water, while froggie makes a dash,

    And, sitting on the log, oh many a stone throws he,
    Hitting wretched little Tommy with considerable glee.

    "Hold on!" cries Tommy, vainly. "You're nothing but a frog!"
    Comes the answer, as the stones fly faster from the log.

    Was ever boy so wretched! was ever frog so glad!
    I really don't know what would have happened to the lad.

    But by chance a wandering bee stung young Tommy on the nose,
    And, waking from a fearful dream, up from that log he rose.

                                               MARY D. BRINE.




LONELY JACK.


WHO do you suppose Jack was? Not a boy, nor a dog, nor a horse, nor a
parrot. He was a fat little donkey, who lived on a large farm with
thirteen other donkeys, all fat too, and they had nothing to do all day
long but eat and be happy.

Jack thought there never before had been such fortunate creatures as
they were, and did not dream of separation from his dear friends. But
one day a man came up with a rope, and, before the donkeys knew what he
was doing, threw it over poor little Jack's neck, and tried to lead him
away.

But Jack hadn't the least intention of going. Oh, dear, no! He planted
his feet firmly on the ground, while the man pulled, and pulled, and
pulled, but could not make him stir a step. At last the man gave up and
went away; but he came back the next day with two more men.

Then, spite of Jack's firmness, his legs were bound, and he was laid in
a wagon, and carried miles and miles away from all his dear companions.

His new home was a small farm where there were no friends for him at
all. Jack soon grew so lonely, that he even felt anxious to scrape
acquaintance with the hens and chickens. But they all rushed wildly away
as soon he approached; and one old hen cackled out, "Good gracious, my
children, my children! do keep out of the way of that ugly beast."

Jack was so grieved that he did not dare to make any more attempts at
sociability that day; and, indeed there was no one else he could speak
to, except Growler, the big bull-dog.

"A fine day, sir," said Jack, carelessly sauntering by the kennel.

"Bow-wow-wow!" barked Growler, making a frantic rush for Jack's legs.

Now donkeys don't often run; but Jack ran then as fast as he could go,
straight across to the other end of the field, and right into a lot of
the most delicious nettles.

[Illustration]

But what pleasure can one find in dainty fare when one is alone? Jack
stood looking around till he happened to spy a goat who seemed to be
about as sad as himself.

"Are you homesick?" asked Jack.

"No," said the goat mournfully.

"Some other kind of sick?" suggested Jack, glad to find some one who
would give him a civil answer.

"No," answered the goat; "but my mouth waters to taste those little
tender twigs on that tree just out of my reach. If I only had a box," he
added, shaking his head, "or something to stand on, I could get them
easily."

"Jump up on my back, and eat as many as you want," said Jack, ever ready
to do a favor.

The goat hesitated. "I am afraid I might hurt you," he said.

"Nothing ever hurts me," responded Jack. "Jump up." So the goat took
courage, made a leap, and landed safely on the donkey's back.

Jack stood there patiently while his new friend made a dainty feast.

"Is it good?" he asked.

"Delicious! Oh, so nice! But"--and the goat broke off in a frightened
manner. "Don't you see?" he began again after a moment. "There's the
farmer looking at us. Oh, dear me, what will he do?"

"Nothing," said Jack. "Go on eating, and let him look if he wants to."

"No, no! I had better get down," said the goat.

"Don't be afraid," the donkey insisted. "Stay there, and eat as much as
you want."

The goat was not willing to be thought a coward: so, with one eye still
on the farmer, he began to eat again. His master, after staring at the
strange couple for a moment, burst into a loud laugh, and went away.

"There, I've had enough," the goat said with a sigh of pleasure, as he
jumped off Jack's back. "Thank you very much. Let's be friends."

Jack was so delighted with this suggestion, that he brayed until the
hills re-echoed with the sound of his voice. And from that day to this
the donkey and goat have been inseparable friends. We never see one
without the other.

                                              B. WATSON.




LITTLE BUSYBODY.


    OH, but she is such a dear little mite!
    Never at rest: even now, as I write,
    Going out shopping, or making a call,
    Talking to chairs, rocking dolly so small.
    Never a leaf on the sunshiny tree,
    When the wind blows, is as tireless as she.
    Ask for a kiss, she will quietly say,
    "Haven't got time: I'm too busy to-day."

[Illustration]

    Are the birds weary when down goes the sun?
    Or the wee lambkins when homeward they run?
    Or the bright butterflies folding their wings?
    Grasshoppers, crickets, and all merry things?
    Then must this dear busybody of ours
    Long for her rest with the close of the flowers.
    Oh the sweet lips that so lovingly say,
    "Good-night,--so tired,--I've been busy to-day!"

                                    GEORGE COOPER.




THE MORNING SAIL.


  Words from "THE YOUTH'S COMPANION."          Music by W. G. PUTNEY.


[Illustration: Music]

    1. Once I got into a boat,
       Such a pretty, pretty boat!
         Just as the day was dawning;
       And I took a little oar,
       And push'd off from the shore.
         Oh, very, very early in the morning!

    Chorus.

    And every little wave had its nightcap on,
    Its nightcap, white cap, nightcap on;
    And every little wave had its nightcap on,
    So very, very early in the morning.

    2 In their caves so still and deep
      All the fishes were asleep,
        When a ripple gave them warning.
      Said the minnow to the skate,
      "Don't lie abed so late;"
        Said he, "'Tis very early in the morning."

    CHO.--For every little wave had its nightcap on,
          Its nightcap, white cap, nightcap on;
          For every little wave had its nightcap on,
          So very, very early in the morning.

    3 Said the sturgeon to the eel,
      "Just imagine how I feel;
        (Excuse me, my dear, for yawning;)
      People ought to let us know
      When sailing they would go,
        So very, very early in the morning."--CHO.

       *       *       *       *       *

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.

Page 279, actual translation of "Dix centimes seulement" is "only ten
cents" not "two" as the original states.





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