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THE

NURSERY

_A Monthly Magazine_

FOR YOUNGEST READERS.

VOLUME XXX.--No. 4.

    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
    Edith and the Chickens                       291
    How the Old Sparrow helped the Young One     293
    Home, Sweet Home                             294
    The little Sailor                            297
    So Tired                                     301
    Drawing-Lesson                               305
    The Doll that Fanny Found                    306
    All True                                     308
    The Strange Man                              310
    A Knowing Dog                                311
    The Starling                                 313
    Daisies and Clover                           314
    Helping Mother                               316


IN VERSE.

    Popping Corn                                 290
    In School and Out                            296
    The Crickets' Sociable                       299
    Lessons                                      302
    On the Way to Slumberland                    309
    Mother's Caller                              312
    Curly-Head and Inquisitive Ned               315
    The Squirrel                                 318
    Roly-Poly (_with music_)                     320

[Illustration]




[Illustration: POPPING CORN.

VOL. XXX.--NO. 4.]




POPPING CORN.


[Illustration]

    POUR the nice corn
      Out of the bowl,
    Into the popper,
      Over the coal,--
    The bright glowing coal.

    Shake now, for your life,
      The fine golden grain;
    Now listen! what strife
      Goes on there amain!

    Hear it! Pop, pop!
      Pop, pop! Pop, pop!
    Now the popper is full,
      The shaking must stop.

    Bring the dish, little Rosie,
      Come, Jamie and Josie,
    And out we will pour
      Our nice puffy store.

    So crisp and so light,
      So tender and white!
    What were beads of gold
      When put in the hopper,
    Into flowers unfold,--
      O magical popper!

                     CAROLINE DEE.

[Illustration]




EDITH AND THE CHICKENS.


"OH, tie on my hat quick, dear mamma, please," called Edith Gray,
running up stairs as fast as her little feet would carry her; "for
grandma says I may go with her to see the chickens."

Edith was four years old, and had come the day before, for the first
time in her life, to stay on a large farm. She had never seen young
chickens, except in picture-books: so you can imagine how pleased she
was at the thought of seeing real live ones.

She was soon in the farmyard, and after feeding the little things with
meal and water,--hasty-pudding she called it,--she seemed to long so to
pet them, that her kind grandmother said, "Well, dear, hold up your
apron, and I will put some of the chickens in; but you must handle them
very gently."

Edith was delighted, and begged to carry them into the house for mamma
to see. Old mother-hen, who was busy scratching for the rest of her
brood, did not at first notice what was going on. But, when she saw
Edith walking off with some of her darlings, she began to spread her
wings, and puff out her feathers, and scold in hen fashion.

Then the tall old rooster straightened himself up and looked down at
her, as much as to say, "What a goose you are to make such a fuss! The
little girl will bring your chicks back all safe."

And so she did; and the next day, when she picked them up and petted
them again, Mrs. Hen did not say a word, but seemed quite pleased and
proud.

                                               AUNT SUSAN.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




HOW THE OLD SPARROW HELPED THE YOUNG ONE.


AN unfledged sparrow, not strong enough to fly far, had fallen into the
area of a city basement.

The poor little bird was wasting its strength in vain attempts to get
out of its prison, while its mother looked down in alarm, and tried her
best to cheer and aid her child.

At last the old bird flew away. "Can it be," I thought, "that she is
going to desert her little one?" No indeed! She had only hit upon a new
plan.

Back she soon came with a stout straw in her beak. Perching on an iron
bar which crossed the area about a foot below the level of the street,
she passed one end of the straw to the little captive below.

The nestling took the offered straw in its beak and clung to it, while
the mother, holding fast to the other end, flew up to the street. Thus,
with some aid from its own wings, the little bird was able to gain a
foothold on the iron bar.

From this point, one more pull by the old bird helped it to reach the
pavement, where it fluttered away with its delighted mother.

                                              UNCLE CHARLES.




HOME, SWEET HOME.


"HOW real jolly it seems to be back in our own parlor again!" said
Willie Morton, making a flying leap over an ottoman as he spoke.

With his elder brother he had been away at school for a year, while his
mother and sisters were travelling abroad. This was the first evening
that they were all together again.

"Come, sister Annie," Willie continued, "sing 'Home, sweet home!'
Charlie can play it on the flute."

So Annie took her place at the piano; their mother seated herself to
listen, with little Amy on her lap; and Charlie produced his flute. They
were soon singing the old familiar song with all their hearts, Willie's
voice loudest of all.

When this song was ended, he proposed singing "The star-spangled
banner," "because," as he said to his sister, "you ought to rejoice to
be under the old flag again."

[Illustration]

The singing over, the excited boy roused up his little sister, who had
almost fallen asleep in her mother's lap, and whirled her round in what
he called a waltz, till his mother said it was quite time to dance off
to bed.

The last sound heard as he ran up stairs was, "Hurrah! there's no place
like home!"

                                              IDA FAY.




IN SCHOOL AND OUT.


    SCHOOL-TIME is coming again;
    "So much the better!" says Jane,
    And off, with her satchel and slate,
    She starts, for she scorns to be late.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

    But ragged and barefooted Meg
    Does nothing but wander and beg.
    Oh, why does she not go to school?
    Poor child! She's by no means a fool.

                                   X. Y. Z.




[Illustration]




THE LITTLE SAILOR.


I HAD just finished reading the last number of "The Nursery" to my
little six-year-old boy. "Read it all over again, mamma," he said. "Why
don't the 'Nurseries' come oftener, so you could read me a new story
every minute?"

What a silly question, wasn't it? But I didn't tell him it was silly. I
sang the frog-song over again with a good many croaks and kerchugs to
make it lively; then we all made ready--the two aunts, papa, my little
boy, and myself--to go out sailing in the harbor.

Did any of your "Nursery" readers ever take a sail in Captain Burdette's
sail-boat "Fearless" on the smooth water at Nantucket? Well, if you did,
didn't you have a jolly time? And, if you didn't, do try it some day
when the wind blows just enough to fill the white sail.

We had a merry party, and our little boy was so full of play, that he
dragged the boat-broom in the wake of the boat. Then he tried to stand
on the forward-deck, and hold on by the mast. But the wind shifted a
little, and the sail turned about so suddenly, that it came near pushing
him into the water.

So papa ordered him into the stern, where the ladies were, and gave him
permission to take hold of the tiller, and help steer the boat. He
helped turn her toward the jetty which the government is building to
make the water deeper, so that large ships may sail safely into the
harbor.

Just as we made the turn, we saw another boat coming towards us. The
tide was driving it swiftly along, and it bobbed up and down on the
sparkling ripples. A little chap was standing on the bow, drying his wet
bare legs in the sunshine. He seemed to be enjoying himself hugely, and
paid no attention to our party.

He had a dark mantle thrown over his white vest, and was straight and
slim like a naval cadet. By and by he gave his tail a little shake,
lifted his two wings, and took himself off the water-soaked stick he had
used for a sail-boat. Then he went screaming with his mates high up in
the air.

I dare say you know by this time that I am talking about a
sea-gull,--one of those birds which fly in such numbers about the
seacoasts. My little boy wished he could fly like a gull, but thought it
wouldn't be wise to be always hungry for a fish-dinner, as those who
study their habits say sea-gulls always are.

                                              MRS. G. I. HOPKINS.

[Illustration]




THE CRICKETS' SOCIABLE.


[Illustration]

    EACH cricket was invited, 'twas after twelve at night;
    The fire was burning brightly, and not a puss in sight,
    When out popped twenty couples, all chirping loud and clear:
    The moon peeped in the window, as if it paused to hear.

    The band stood on a table,--a fiddle and a harp;
    The former was a trifle flat, the latter rather sharp:
    But, oh the jolly dancing, the capers queer and gay!
    Why, pigeon-wings were nothing, and double-shuffles, play.

    The belles reclined in corners, and chatted to the beaux,
    Who looked so neat and graceful, each turning out his toes;
    And all the daddy-crickets were happy as could be,
    Their little baby-crickets they dandled on their knee.

    A Daddy Longlegs handed a lady out to dance,--
    'Twas said he was a baron,--quite modest was her glance;
    He kissed her hand politely, his style they all admired;
    He bowed to her sedately; she courtesied and retired.

    A dozen tiny crickets then tried a minuet,
    And many other dances whose names you would forget.
    The fiddler scraped up louder, a mouse peeped out to see;
    But laughed his head off nearly to mark such jollity!

    The supper, oh, that supper! From brimming cups of dew
    They sipped, and luscious goodies were spread out,--not a few.
    They handed round in slices a dainty Christmas cake
    That very much resembled a tiny snowy flake.

    They didn't stop till morning; they heard a rooster crow,
    And then the merry fiddler put away his bow;
    And twenty jolly couples with weary legs retire
    As Bridget pops in lively to make the kitchen-fire.

                                          GEORGE COOPER.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




SO TIRED!


NELLY was a bright, happy little girl. Her home was in the country; and
in summer, as soon as the birds began to sing, her eyes were wide open,
and she was ready to jump and play and sing too.

Then, as soon as she was nicely bathed and dressed, and her curly hair
tied with a pretty ribbon, away she would go out of doors, to gather
flowers, or feed the chickens, or play with the kitten.

After breakfast she would go into the field where the hay was making,
and help with her own little rake to toss and spread it. But at eleven
o'clock her mother would call her in, put on her cool night-dress, and
lay her in her crib for a nap, and by that time the little girl was
usually tired enough to be glad to go to sleep.

But one day she was having such a nice time with some little cousins
who had come to play with her, that, when her mother called her in for
her nap, she said, "Oh, please, mamma, don't make me go to sleep to-day;
I'm not a bit sleepy. See how wide open my eyes are!"

Her mother laughed and said, "Well, darling, we'll try it this once, but
I'm afraid you will be tired before night."

"Oh, no! mamma, I shall not be tired, I know, because I am having such a
good time."

So she played on merrily until her dinner at one o'clock, and, as soon
as that was over, she was off again for another frolic. By and by she
came in, looking very weary, and said, "I don't want to play out any
more, mamma: I think it's time for my supper."

Now it was not yet five o'clock, and her usual supper hour was half-past
six. But her mamma at once put some nice bread and butter on the table
and her mug of milk, and left her to eat it, while she went to speak to
a friend.

When she came back soon after, Miss Nelly had pushed back her plate,
upset her mug, laid down her apron, dropped her head on her chubby arm,
and gone fast asleep.

The next day when mamma called her for her nap, she ran quickly, saying,
"All ready, mamma, because I was so tired yesterday."

                                              JANE OLIVER.




LESSONS.


AUNT LIZZIE.

    OUT in the sunny garden-plot,
      Among the blossoms gay,
    The lilies and the four-o'clocks,
      What have you learned to-day?


ALFRED.

[Illustration]

    Loud humming in a hollyhock,
      I heard a little bee:
    He filled his yellow thighs with wax,
      And this he taught to me:
    "Short time have I to honey win;
    Short time have you to study in;
    Soon life and summer glide away:
    We must keep busy every day."


BESSY.

[Illustration]

    And on a purple candytuft
      I saw a butterfly:
    It waved its red-and-yellow wings,
      And said, "A worm was I:
    Be cheerful whatso'er befall,
    And hope to soar when forced to crawl."


CHARLEY.

[Illustration]

    Among some morning-glories set
    There grew the fragrant mignonette:
    It said to me, "A winning grace
    A kind heart lends the plainest face:
    Who would my simple blossom choose
    Should I my pleasant perfume lose?"


DORA.

[Illustration]

    Upon a green sweetbrier bough,
      A pleasant, shady place,
    All hung with dew, like gems, I found
      A web of silver lace;
    And on it, with its many eyes,
    I saw a spider watching flies,
    Who taught me this: "One must beware;
    The fairest thing may prove a snare."


AUNT.

    Four useful lessons you have learned
      This happy summer hour,
    Taught by a bee, a butterfly,
      A spider, and a flower.

                         MARIAN DOUGLAS.

[Illustration]




[Illustration: DRAWING-LESSON.

VOL. XXX.--NO. 4.]




THE DOLL THAT FANNY FOUND.


FANNY went to spend her vacation with her grandma, who lived in the
country. For a whole week every day was pleasant, and she had a lovely
time.

She picked berries for grandma to make pies. She drove the cows home
from the pasture every night. She rode into the fields in the hay-cart,
and came home on the big loads of hay. She fed the chickens, and played
with the kittens. But at last there came a rainy day.

Fanny heard the rain pattering on the window the first thing when she
awoke in the morning. As soon as grandma opened the door to call her,
she cried out: "O grandma! see how it rains! What shall I do to-day?"

"You can stay in the house with me," said grandma; "I have not seen much
of my little girl yet."

"Well, you must tell me what to do," said Fanny.

"You can go up in the garret and play. There is where your mother and
aunt Sarah used to spend a good many rainy days," said grandma.

So, after breakfast, Fanny went into the attic. The attic was a very
large room, containing old spinning-wheels, chests, boxes, and many
other things--such as are always found in attics.

"Now for a grand rummage!" said Fanny, and she began to look over the
boxes and chests to see what she could find. In some of the boxes there
were books and papers. In one of them there were old dresses and
bonnets. Fanny pulled the things out of this box, one after another, and
as she reached the bottom, she cried, "Oh, what have I found! what have
I found!"

It was a large old-fashioned rag-baby almost as large as a real baby a
few weeks old. Its face and clothes were soiled and faded; its cap was
torn and yellow; and it had but one shoe: but the little girl was
delighted with it.

She had a number of handsome dolls at home; but she had never seen one
like this before.

"How nice and soft it is to hold!" said Fanny. "I must go right down and
show it to grandma, and ask her all about it."

[Illustration]

She found grandma in the milk-room, churning cream. "See what I have
found, grandma," said Fanny, holding the baby up before her. "Now do
tell me whose baby this is."

"Oh," said grandma, laughing, "I made that doll for your mother when she
was a little girl. I remember how pleased she was with it. She named it
Sally."

"I think old Sally is splendid, and I am going to play with her all the
time I am here," said Fanny.

All the rest of her vacation, Sally was Fanny's pet and plaything. She
made new clothes for her, took her out to walk and ride every day, and
put her to bed every night.

In the picture you may see Fanny and Sally out in the fields together.

                                              M. M. HATHAWAY.




ALL TRUE.


MRS. F., a lady living not far from Boston, has a bantam hen, who, every
spring morning, walks into the house, and lays an egg in a
rocking-chair.

[Illustration]

After laying the egg, Mrs. Bantam jumps up on the window-seat and says
"Cut, cut, cut, cut-ah-cut!"

A turkey belonging to this same lady, who is very fond of pets, once
came off her nest with one poor little fledgeling; a duck appeared,
about the same time, with only one duckling; and, strangely enough, a
hen was roaming about with one solitary chicken.

Mrs. F. thought that the three young ones might as well make one family:
so she put the young turkey and the duckling with the hen, and Mistress
Biddy took care of them with her own chicken, just as though she were
the true mother of them all.

Mrs. F. used to take all three up in her lap and feed them. When put
down, the turkey and the duckling would stretch their long necks up,
looking wistfully at her, as if coaxing her to take them up again. But
the chicken did not seem to care about being petted.

                                              AUNT SUE.




[Illustration]




ON THE WAY TO SLUMBER-LAND.


    DEAR little Lily, in night-gown white,
    Her precious old dolly holding tight,
    Looks back, as she goes, to say
        "Papa, good-night!"

                             S. O. C.




THE STRANGE MAN.


THIS little girl thinks she sees a strange man in the cornfield. He is
very tall, and has long black hair. She clasps her hands in wonder. She
goes up to the man; but he does not even bow to her.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

Why, it is only a scarecrow! If the little girl had been a crow, I think
she could not have been more scared. But she will have a good laugh now
to make up for it. A pole with a hat on it can't deceive such bright
eyes as hers.

                                              S. O. J.




A KNOWING DOG.


ETHEL is never tired of talking about her dog Flash. One of his
accomplishments, she tells me, is his graceful way of setting the table.

When it is time for Flash to have his dinner, his master says, "Flash,
bring the table-cloth!"

Off he runs to the newspaper-rack, gets a paper, and lays it at his
master's feet. "Spread it out!" is the next command.

[Illustration]

Quickly he opens the paper to its full extent, and places it on the
floor carefully. He waits patiently for the bones that are to reward his
obedience. When they have been put on the clean "table-cloth," he begins
his nice feast. Dinner over, Flash picks up the paper cloth, and carries
it out of the room for the cook to burn.

Ethel says that Flash can tell time; for at just such a minute every
day, the dog comes to his master, sits up straight, with his front paws
drooping gracefully, and asks, in his dumb way, for something to eat.
And when the time comes for his master to go down town to business,
Flash is sure to give him a hint; for Flash is very punctual, you see,
and does not approve of delay.

One day Flash brought an intimate friend, a red setter, and introduced
him to his master. Flash stood wagging his tail, while the caller was
politely caressed. Then the two dogs trotted off together, and Flash's
playmate had a new name to put on his visiting list.

                                              GEORGE T. PACKARD.




MOTHER'S CALLER.


    "RAT-TAT-TAT upon the door; pray who can it be?
    Such a funny lady never did I see.
    Such a hat upon her head,--far too large a size,--
    Such a mass of tangled curls hanging in her eyes!

    "Do come in, my lady small, here's the rocking-chair:
    Taking out your family for the morning air?
    This child fell and hurt her head? that was very sad:
    Other dolly broke her arm? wasn't it too bad?

    "What, not going! Stay awhile, it is early yet:
    Come and see me soon again; now, do not forget.
    Ah! I've seen that face before, dimples, curls, and all,--
    'Tis my own clear little girl come to make a call."

                                             RUTH REVERE.

[Illustration]




THE STARLING.


THIS handsome and sprightly bird is very common in Europe. It is about
eight inches long, of a rich black color spotted with buff. When caged
young, and tamed, it may be taught to say a few words and to whistle
short tunes.

[Illustration]

A starling owned by a lady in Germany, was in the habit of perching on
the cow's head. There he would sit between her horns, busily cleaning
his feathers. The cow did not notice him until he began to walk down her
broad forehead. Then she felt his sharp claws and shook her head to
drive him away; but he only flew back to his former place, and sat
there, singing joyously.

                                      L. E. H., from the German.




DAISIES AND CLOVER.


PATTY was taking a stroll in the pasture, plucking daisies as she went
along. Suddenly she stopped, and seemed to be intent upon something in
the grass.

[Illustration]

"Do you see a snake, Patty?" said her cousin Paul, coming softly up
behind her.

"Oh, no!" answered Patty, "I was only trying to find something."

"Trying to find something!" said Paul. "What in the world can it be?"

"Guess, if you can."

"Well," said Paul, "I guess it's a gold dollar."

"No such thing."

"Then it must be a pearl."

"No."

"An ear-ring?"

"No, I don't wear ear-rings."

"A hairpin?"

"No indeed! you saucy boy."

"Dear me! Then I shall have to give it up. Can't rack my brains any
more. The strain is too great."

[Illustration]

"What a bright boy you are at guessing! You shall have this bunch of
daisies as a reward of merit. Are they not pretty? Don't despise them
because they are weeds. Now I will tell you what I am looking for. I
want very much to find a----"

"Stop a minute," said Paul, "I have it." And he stooped down, and
plucked a four-leaved clover.

"That's the very thing," said Patty.

"Good luck to you!" said Paul, handing her the clover with a graceful
bow.

                                              ANNA LIVINGSTON.




[Illustration]




CURLY-HEAD AND INQUISITIVE NED.


    "WHAT have you in your basket,
          Curly-head?"
    "Though 'tis not polite to ask it,
          I've some bread."

    "Where do you go with your basket?
            Who's in need?"
    "Though 'tis not polite to ask it,
            Swans I feed."

    "Will they eat what's in the basket,
            All of it?"
    "Though 'tis not polite to ask it,
            Every bit."

    "Where, when empty is your basket,
            Go you then?"
    "Though 'tis not polite to ask it,
            Home again."

                                  E.




HELPING MOTHER.


WHAT is little Susan doing with that big water-bucket? It is a heavy
load for her, and she tugs at it with a right good will.

If the water does not all leak out before she gets into the kitchen, she
will fill the teakettle. She is trying to make herself useful, you see.

[Illustration]

With that cap on her head, and that long apron, she fancies herself
quite grown up, and able to do Bridget's work.

She thinks she is helping mother. But, when her mother sees the water
spilt about the well, I think she will say that the little girl has only
been doing mischief.

                                                  A. B. C.




[Illustration]




THE SQUIRREL.


    ONCE upon a time a squirrel
      Scampered quickly up a tree;
    There he sat, and from the branches
      Chattered gayly unto me.

    "I am Mr. Brownie Squirrel,
      And my home is in the ground:
    There I live; but in this nut-tree
      Oftener I may be found.

    "Long before the bright sun rises,
      Here to gather nuts I roam:
    They'll be needed in the winter
      By my little ones at home.

    "For when shrill the north wind whistles
      Through these branches black and bare,
    When the nuts and leaves have vanished,
      And the snow fills all the air--

    "Then, to pay me for my trouble,
      I'll have plenty and to spare.
    Safe at home I'll pass the winter,
      Little for the storm I'll care.

[Illustration]

    "That reminds me I am idle;
      While I'm talking here to you.
    Why, dear me! how dark it's growing!
      And I still have work to do."

    Throwing then a nutshell at me,
      Winking with his eyes so bright,
    Off he scampered through the branches,
      Where he soon was lost to sight.

    Grandma heard about the squirrel,
      Straightway then did grandma make
    Many little squirrels like it,--
      Only hers were made of cake!

                                  AUNTY GAY.




ROLY-POLY.

    Words by OLIVE A. WADSWORTH.      Music by T. CRAMPTON.

[Illustration: Music]


    1. Roly-Poly is three years old;
       Yes, three years old and a trifle over;
       Roly-Poly is round as a ball,
       As jolly as larks, and sweet as clover.
       Roly-Poly has stars for eyes,
       A heavenly chin with a dimple in it;
       Peaches for cheeks, the bud of a nose,
       And a tongue that is never still a minute.

    2. Roly-Poly's a business man;
       He rides to market on Grandpa's cane;
       He orders breakfast of peppermint drops,
       Then gallops his pony home again.
       Roly-Poly rules everything;
       His father and mother are captives wholly;
       Sisters must yield to such a king,
       Who will make all obey him, Roly-Poly.

       *       *       *       *       *

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, October 1881, Vol. XXX, by Various