Part 2

Soon as she utters This, out she flutters, Her full fresh frock as white as the snows; Round she whirls, and then in a minute Sits down quick, and the air within it Puffs it out like a full-blown rose.

That's what she pleases To call "making cheeses." I'm sure I could give it a better name. Call it playing at daffy-down-dilly, Call it playing at white day-lily: Either will suit me just the same.

Lily for brightness She is, and for whiteness; A golden centre her long locks grow! And isn't that head, so shimmering, sunny, Daffy-down-dilly-like, yellow as money?-- Rogue she is anyway, _that_ I know.

MRS. CLARA DOTY BATES.

MY PETS.

I AM a little girl seven years old. I live way up in the woods of Maine, in the little town of Howland, forty miles from anywhere. Now you may wonder how I can amuse myself, so far away from the world: so I am going to tell you.

I live on a great farm, with grandpapa, Aunt Peeps, and Nan, and Will. I have a pair of top-boots, so I can play out doors in wet weather. I was glad when grandpapa brought them home; and the first thing I did was to find a good large mud-puddle, and oh! didn't I have fun, splashing right through it!

I drive old Frank whenever I please; and then, when we get home, I feed him on apples and bread. He is twenty years old, and has no teeth to eat hay with, and grandpapa says he would starve to death if it were not for me.

We let him go wherever he likes, and in hot weather he stays on the barn-floor, out of the reach of the flies, most of the time. He lets me card him, and he never kicks me. One day last summer, Emma and I got old Frank upon a haymow, about four feet from the floor, and there he lay down on his side, and took a nap. Then I brought out a pan of meal and water, and fed it to him with an iron spoon.

I have an old pet sheep too. It will run out from the flock any time when it sees me coming, and follow me to the house. One day I heard a noise against the kitchen-door, and, when I opened it, my sheep came in, and followed me right into the dining-room, and would not go out till I gave it some potatoes.

Major and Velvet Paw are my pet cats, and Peep is my German canary-bird; and I had a pet chicken, but grandpapa stepped on it one day. He says he would rather have lost the best cow in the barn than have killed my chicken. William says he will give me four eggs in the spring, and then, perhaps, I can have four chickens instead of one.

I have a bear,--a black, fierce-eyed bear, that gnashes his teeth, and growls, and stands up and shakes his paws at me; but he is not a _real live bear_. He has to be wound up with a key before he will growl. We have live bears here in the woods, though: they come right into our yard, and eat our sheep. We set a trap for one last fall, close to the house, and a bear was caught in it.

I have a wax doll almost as large as a real baby. I have named it Gretchen. Cousin Mary brought it to me from Germany. It has flaxen curls, and six of the prettiest little pearl teeth, and it goes to sleep, and says papa and mamma, and whines, and cries. I wonder if any of you little girls have such a beautiful dolly.

My doll, Rosie Deben, is six years old, and almost as large as I am. I wash her whenever I like, and about once a year Auntie Peeps paints her face over. I like Rosie for an every-day doll, because I can wash her hands and face, and undress her, and if she tumbles out of her wagon it only bumps her head, and bruises her nose. She has tumbled down stairs ever so many times.

I have no little girls to play with; but there is a little boy who comes to see me sometimes: his name is Percy, and we go fishing down at the brook, and we catch little bits of fish with pin hooks.

I went to school last summer, and read in my "Nursery," and Nan said I learned nicely. There were only four scholars,--one for each corner of the room; and we had a little rocking-chair to sit in.

Nan thinks I have told you enough about my pets this time, and I will bid you good-by.

MAMIE.

DRILLING THE TROOPS.

HERE is Corporal Hans drilling a squad under the eye of his superior officer, Captain Ernest. The corporal is a brave soldier. Anybody could tell that by his looks. But he does not give his orders quite sternly enough to suit the captain, who is teaching him how to do it.

It makes a man of peace shudder to see the corporal stand so calmly right at the mouth of a cannon. What if the cannon should go off! But these military men get used to such things. I don't suppose now that one of that whole squad could be frightened into running away. They will not move till they hear the word of command.

UNCLE SAM.

THE PICTURE-BOOK.

IN the book that Mary likes so much to look at, there is a nice picture of a horse. Here it is.

The horse has a very long tail and also a long thick mane. He stands very quietly in his stall, turning his head around, as if he were in want of some more hay. If he should ask for it, what would he say? Little Mary says he would say, "Neigh!"

The next picture shows us two donkeys,--an old one and a young one. They have very long ears, and look as if they might hear all that we say.

The worst we can say of them or their race is that they are homely, and not so fleet as the horse. But they are very tough and strong and patient.

If the donkey should hear this, perhaps he would open his mouth and say, "Bray!"

A. B. C.

A BLACKSMITH'S SONG.

CLANG, cling, clang, cling! Bellows, you must roar, and anvil, you must ring; Hammer, you and I must work--for ding, dong, ding Must dress my Kate and baby, and bread for us must bring. So dong, ding, dong, ding! Anvil, to my hammer make music while I sing,-- Clang, cling, clang, cling!

Clang, cling, clang, cling! Oh, well I love my smithy when the birds in spring-time sing, And the pleasant sun comes streaming in, the sun that loves to bring Its gladness to me, working, and to hear my anvil ring. Dong, ding, dong, ding! And to see my iron glowing, and the sparks in showers spring,-- Clang, cling, clang, cling!

Blow, blow, blow, blow! Bellows, you must work till the furnace is aglow. Snug is my old smithy when, without, comes down the snow, When sooty wall and rafter in the blaze are all aglow. Blow, blow, blow, blow! What care I if the storm, then, without, be high or low? Blow, blow, blow, blow!

Clang, cling, clang, cling! Merrily the hours fly that hear my anvil ring; And quick my evening chair and my evening meal they bring; Then, while Kate works beside me, I'm as happy as a king. Clang, cling, clang, cling! God give me always health and strength to make my anvil ring: Clang, cling, clang, cling!

W. C. BENNETT.

MADAM QUACK.

Words from "The Nursery." Music by T. CRAMPTON.

1. Good-Day! Madam Quack with your young in your track, Quite early they're out, What are they about-- Those bright little things With their short downy wings? I'm glad of your luck, you're a good mother duck! And if young folks did know half the joy they bestow When attentive and good--they would try all they could.

2. You know sir, I see what young ducklings should be; Your taste I commend, My civil young friend; They're beauties you see and obedient to me. In ponds they can paddle, On land they can waddle, They dive and they flutter, Quack, quack, they can utter: I'm glad they can learn, and great fame they will earn.

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Transcriber's Notes:

The July edition of the Nursery had a table of contents for the next six issues of the year. This table was divided to cover each specific issue. A title page copied from this same July edition was also used for this number and the issue number added after the Volume number.

Page 38, closing single quotation mark added to text. (through the rye!'")