Chapter 1

Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net Music by Linda Cantoni.

THE

NURSERY

_A Monthly Magazine_

FOR YOUNGEST READERS.

VOLUME XIV.

BOSTON: JOHN L. SHOREY, No. 36, BROMFIELD STREET. 1873.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by JOHN L. SHOREY, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

BOSTON: STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY RAND, AVERY, & CO.

IN PROSE.

PAGE.

Look out for the Engine 1

How Willy coaxed Edith 3

Works of Art for Children 4

Kit Midge 8

Hettie's Chickens 10

A Schoolboy's Story 12

Clarence at the Menagerie 14

Touch my Chicks if you dare 16

The Catcher caught 18

Edwin's Doves 22

The Little Fortune-Seekers 24

The Little Stepmother 30

The Mother's Prayer 33

Coosie and Carrie 36

The Fourth of July Cake 38

How our School came to have the Nursery 42

Where the Dandelions went 43

The Bird's Nest 44

Meditations of a Shut-out One 46

Dreaming and Doing 48

Prairie Dogs 51

A Journey to California 55

A Letter to George 58

The Blackberry Frolic 60

The Queer Things that happened to Nelly 65

The Six Ducks 69

The Bunch of Grapes 71

A True Story about a Dog 73

Pitcher-Plants and Monkey-Pots 76

Under the Cherry-Tree 77

Rambles in the Woods 80

What I Saw at the Seashore 82

Blossom and I 85

How Norman became an Artist 87

A Boot-Race under Difficulties 89

Pictures for Walter 90

The Fisherman's Children 92

Threading the Needle 97

The Butter Song 100

Our Pony 103

Nelly's Kitten 105

A Morning Ride 108

Perils of the Sea 112

In Honor of Rosa's Birthday 114

Walter's Disappointment 116

The Tide coming in 119

Letter to George 122

Peepy's Pet 124

The Aunt and the Niece 129

Dreadfully cheated 132

A Bad Blow 135

Paul 137

Little Piggy 140

Camping Out 141

A Field-Day with the Geese 144

Learn to think 147

Grandpa and the Mouse 151

The Speckled Hen 154

Story of a Daisy 156

Clear the Coast 161

A Letter to Santa Claus 165

The Boy and the Nuts 166

Eddy's Thanksgiving 167

Benny's Arithmetic Lesson 170

Grandpa's Boots 171

What Jessie Cortrell did 173

The Balloon 178

The Starling and the Sparrows 181

The Sprained Ankle 187

IN VERSE.

PAGE.

My Clothes-Pins 6

Mamma's Boy 11

The Birds and the Pond-Lily 21

A Summer-Day (_with music_) 32

Charley's Opinion 35

Song of the Brook 41

Bobolink 50

Dear Little Mary 53

Little Jack Homer (_with music_) 64

Rose's Song 68

A Little Tease 75

Sleeping in the Sunshine 78

Young Lazy-Bones (_with music_) 96

The Singing Mouse 101

A Funny Little Grandma 107

Old Trim 110

Our One-Year-Old 115

The Boasting Boy 117

Cakes and Pies 118

Sunrise 121

Song of the Monkey (_with music_) 128

Summer's over 134

The Anvil Chorus 136

The Cat and the Book 139

What Willy did 146

The Brothers that did not quarrel 150

Home from the Woods 153

Winifred Waters (_with music_) 160

Who is it? 164

The Acorns 175

Grandmother's Birthday 176

What the Cat said to the Monkey 180

The Tea-Party 185

LOOK OUT FOR THE ENGINE!

I will tell you how to make another pretty thing. You know what a burr is. Alas! it has often played you many a naughty trick,--woven itself provokingly into your clothes, or perhaps into your hair. I can teach you to make a better use of it.

Pluck an apron full: lay them one against another so that they shall stick fast together, and make in this manner the bottom of a small basket of any shape you like,--round, square, or oval.

Now build the burrs up around the edge to form the sides. When this is finished, make also the handle of burrs. A lovely little basket stands before you, which you can fill with flowers or berries from the fields, and carry home to your mother. Of course you know how to make wreaths and bouquets; but to make them tastefully is a true work of art, in which all children should try to become skilful.

ANNA LIVINGSTON.

MY CLOTHES-PINS.

MY clothes-pins are but kitchen-folk, Unpainted, wooden, small; And for six days in every week Are of no use at all.

But when a breezy Monday comes, And all my clothes are out, And want with every idle wind To go and roam about,

Oh! if I had no clothes-pins then, What would become of me, When roving towels, mounting shirts, I everywhere should see!

"I mean," a flapping sheet begins, "To rise and soar away." "We mean," the clothes-pins answer back, "You on this line shall stay."

"Oh, let me!" pleads a handkerchief, "Across the garden fly." "Not while I've power to keep you here," A clothes-pin makes reply.

So, fearlessly I hear the wind Across the clothes-yard pass, And shed the apple-blossoms down Upon the flowering grass.

The clothes may dance upon the line, And flutter to and fro: My faithful clothes-pins hold them fast, And will not let them go.

My clothes-pins are but kitchen-folk, Unpainted, wooden, small; And for six days in every week Are of no use at all.

But still, in every listening ear, Their praises I will tell; For all that they profess to do They do, and do it well.

MARIAN DOUGLAS.

KIT MIDGE.

KIT MIDGE was thought in the family to be a wonderful little cat. She enjoyed sitting in the sunshine; she liked to feast upon the dainty little mice; and, oh, dear me! now and then, she liked to catch a bird!

This was very naughty, of course; but the best trained cats have their faults. One morning Kit ate her breakfast with great relish, washed her face and paws, smoothed down her fur coat, and went into the parlor to take a nap in the big arm-chair.

The sun shone full in her face; and she blinked and purred and felt very good-natured; for, only the night before, she had caught her first rat, and for such a valiant deed had been praised and petted to her heart's content.

Well, Kit Midge fell asleep in the chair, with one little pink ear turned back, that she might wake easily, and a black tail curled round her paws. By and by one eye opened; and, peeping out, she saw her mistress walking across the room with a dear little yellow-bird in her hand, which she placed on a plant that stood on the top shelf of the plant-stand.

Now, Midge had looked with longing eyes for weeks upon a lovely canary, which sang on its perch far out of her reach; and I suppose she thought this was the same bird among the green leaves.

But she was a wise little cat: so she slept on, with both eyes open, until her mistress had left the room. Then Kitty came down from the chair, and, creeping softly to the stand, made a spring, and seized birdie between her teeth. Then, jumping down, she dropped the bird on the carpet, smelled it, looked ashamed, and sneaked away.

It was only a stuffed bird; and when her mistress, who had been peeping in at the door all the time, said, laughing, "O Kit Midge, I am perfectly ashamed of you!" Kitty just ran out of the room, and did not show herself the rest of the day.

Kit Midge was never known to catch a bird after that.

AUNTY MAY.

HETTIE'S CHICKEN.

WHAT can be prettier than a brood of chickens with a good motherly hen, like the one in this picture! See how the little chicks nestle and play about their mother! and see what a watchful eye she has over them! But some chickens do not have such kind mothers, as you shall hear.

There was a little black one in our yard this spring, which none of the mother-hens would own. They would peck at it, and drive it away, till it was almost starved. Aunt Jennie told our little Hettie that she might have it for her own, if she would take care of it.

So Hettie put the chicken in a cage, with some wool to cover it, and fed it several times every day, till it came to know her. When it was let out of the cage, it would follow her about wherever she went.

One night Hettie went to bed, and forgot to put her pet in its cage. What do you think it did? It just flew up on her pillow; and there it sat with its head tucked under its wing.

Hettie named it Posey, and called it her daughter.

"What will you be, some day, when Posey lays eggs, and brings out a brood of little chickens?" asked mamma one day.

That was a new idea to Hettie; and it puzzled her little brain for a minute: then she laughed out, "Shall I be their grandmother?"

Papa looked up from his paper to see what amused his little girl so much; and, when she had told him, he said he would have a pair of spectacles ready for her; and mamma said she would make her a cap; and Hettie said her little arm-chair would be very nice for a grandmother's chair.

"What will you do as you sit in your chair?" said mamma.

"Let me think," replied Hettie. "Why, my grandma is always knitting mittens and socks and hoods for us; and I must learn to knit, so I can knit some for my grandchildren."

Mamma said she would teach her, and they would begin that very day.

And now, wouldn't you like to see our little Hettie with her roguish eyes peeping over spectacles, and her sunny curls straying from her cap, and her chubby little hands knitting mittens, and all in that little arm-chair?

AUNT AMY.

MAMMA'S BOY.

"BABY, climbing on my knee, Come and talk a while to me. We have trotted up and down. Playing horse, all over town. Whose sweet darling are you, dear? Whisper close to mamma's ear: Tell me quickly, for you can." "I'm mamma's boy, but papa's man!"

"Why, you've many miles to go Ere you'll be a man, you know. You are mamma's own delight; You are mamma's diamond bright; Rose and lily, pearl and star, Love and dove,--all these you are." "No!" the little tongue began: "I'm mamma's boy, but papa's man!"

GEORGE COOPER.

A SCHOOL-BOY'S STORY.

JOHN TUBBS was one day doing his sums, when little Sam Jones pushed against him; and down went the slate with a horrid clatter. "Take care of the pieces!" said the boys, laughing. But Mr. Brill, the master, thought it no laughing matter, and, believing it to be John Tubbs's fault, told him that he should pay for the slate, and have his play stopped for a week.

John said nothing. He did not wish to get little Sam into trouble: so he bore the blame quietly. John's mother was by no means pleased at having to pay for the slate, as she was a poor woman, and had to provide for several other little Tubbses besides John.

"I tell you what it is, John," said she, "you must learn to be more careful. I shall not give you any milk for your breakfast all the week; and by this I shall save money for the slate, which it is right you should pay for."

Poor John ate his bread with water instead of milk: but somehow he was not unhappy, for he felt that he had done a kindness to little Sam Jones; and the satisfaction of having rendered a service to another always brings happiness.

A few days after, Mr. Jones came to the school, and spoke to Mr. Brill about the matter; for little Sam had told his father and mother all about it. Sam was a timid boy; but he could not bear to see John Tubbs kept in for no fault, while the other boys were at play.

"What!" said the master, "and has John Tubbs borne all the blame without saying a word?--Come here, John."

"What's the matter now?" said John to himself. "Something else, I suppose. Well, never mind, so that poor little Sam Jones has got out of his little scrape."

"Now, boys," said Mr. Brill, "here's John Tubbs. Look at him!" And the boys did look at him as a criminal; and John looked very much like a criminal, and began to think that he must be a bad sort of fellow to be called up in this way by his master.

Then Mr. Brill, the master, told the boys all about the broken slate,--that John did not break it, but bore all the blame to save Sam Jones from trouble, and had gone without his milk and play without a murmur. The good schoolmaster said that such conduct was above all praise; and, when he had done speaking, the boys burst out into a cheer. Such a loud hurrah! it made the school-walls ring again. Then they took John on their shoulders, and carried him in triumph round the playground.

And what did John say to all this? He only said, "There, that'll do. If you don't mind, you'll throw a fellow down."

T. C.

CLARENCE AT THE MENAGERIE.

ON the first day of May, Barnum's menagerie came to our town; and Clarence went with his papa to see the animals. He enjoyed looking at them all; but most of all he liked the monkeys and the elephants.

He fed the monkeys with candy, and laughed to see them hang by their tails while they took it from his hand. They ate all the candy he would give them, and did it in a very funny way.

Clarence's papa said the candy had better be eaten by monkeys than by boys; but I doubt whether Clarence was of that opinion.

Clarence was afraid of the great elephant when his papa first took him near it, and hung back when they came within reach of its trunk.

"Why are you afraid of the elephant, Clarence?" asked his papa. "I'm afraid he will _trunk_ me," said Clarence.

But he soon got over his fear, and was so busy feeding the elephant, that his papa had to coax him away.

On their way home, Clarence's papa told the little boy some stories about elephants. Here is one of them:--

A famous elephant, called Jack, was once travelling with his keeper from Margate to Canterbury in England, when they came to a toll-bar. Jack's keeper offered the right toll, but the toll-bar man would not take it. He wanted to make them pay more than was right. So he kept the gate shut. On this the keeper went through the little foot-gate to the other side of the bar, calling out, "Come on, Jack!" and at once the elephant applied his trunk to the rails of the gate, lifted it from its hinges, and dashed it to the ground. He then went on his way, while the toll-bar man stood petrified to see what a mistake he had made in demanding an unjust toll from an elephant.

"Now, Clarence," said his papa, "I suppose you would say that the elephant 'trunked' the toll-gate, and so he did; but, you see, it was because he did not choose to be imposed upon."

CLARENCE'S PAPA.

"TOUCH MY CHICKS IF YOU DARE!"

THAT is what the old hen must have said to our little pup Bravo, who, being three months old, thought he was a match for any chicken or hen in the whole barnyard. He made up his mind that he would first try his courage on a little yellow chick named Downy, who was just three days old, and who had strayed away from his mother's wing to pick up a crumb.

So with a fearful growl, and a bark that might have frightened a lion, Bravo made a leap and a spring after poor little Downy. But Downy was too intent on his crumb of bread to take much notice of the enemy; and then Bravo, like a prudent general, stopped short, and tried his artillery before approaching any nearer. In other words, he began to bark in such a terrible manner, that any reasonable person would have shown his respect by running away.

But Downy was too young to reason, or show respect. Bravo, though as valiant as Julius Cæsar, was, at the same time, as cautious and careful as Fabius; and, if you do not know who Fabius was, I must tell you. He was a Roman general who was very famous for his ability in retreating, and getting out of an enemy's way.