Chapter 2

I AM only the lazy old cat That sleeps upon somebody's mat: I sit in the sunshine, And lick my soft paws, With one eye on mousie, And one on my claws. Little mouse, little mouse! look out how you boast! Of just such as you I have eaten a host! I'm a much smarter cat than you seem to suppose; I have very keen eyes, and, oh--such a nose!

I'm an innocent looking cat; I am well aware of that: I squint up my eyes, And play with the flies, But underneath I am wondrous wise: I know where your nest is, And just where you hide When you have been thieving, And fear you'll be spied. I saw your small tracks all over the meal; And I saw your tail, and I heard you squeal When grandmamma's broom Nearly sealed your doom, And you went whisking out of the room. I am only a lazy old cat: I care not much for a _rat_; But a nice tender _mouse_ About in the house Might prove a temptation too great, Should I be in a hungry state. Little mouse, little mouse! Beware, beware! Some time, when you think not, I shall be there, And you'll not only look at, But feel of, my paws; And, the first thing you know, I'll be licking my jaws, And washing my face with an innocent air, And mousie will be--oh, where? oh, where?

RUTH KENYON.

FOOTNOTE:

[A] See January number, page 18.

_Peter._--Fresh baked peanuts! Give a fellow some, Polly.

_Polly._--Yes, Peter, you shall have a good share.

TOMMY AND THE BLACKSMITH.

_Tommy._--Do you shoe horses here, Mr. Blacksmith?

_Blacksmith._--Yes, little man: that's my business.

_Tommy._--Well, I want my horse shod.

_Blacksmith._--How much can you pay for the job? It will take a good deal of iron to shoe such a big horse as that.

_Ruth._--He wants you to do it for nothing, Mr. Blacksmith.

_Blacksmith._--Every trade must live, my little lady. If Tommy can afford to keep a horse, he ought to be able to pay for having it shod.

_Tommy._--I will pay you next Christmas.

_Blacksmith._---Never run in debt, my lad. If you can't pay for a thing on the spot, do without it. Shun debt as you would poison.

_Ruth._--That is just what my grandfather says.

_Tommy._--Well, when I get some money, I'll come again, Mr. Blacksmith; for this horse must be shod, if there's iron enough to do it with. Good-by!

_Blacksmith._--Good-by, Tommy! Good-by, Ruth!

ARTHUR SELWYN.

DOWN ON THE SANDY BEACH.

DOWN on the sandy beach, When the tide was low; Down on the sandy beach, Many years ago, Two of us were walking, Two of us were talking Of what I cannot tell you, Though I'm sure you'd like to know.

Down in the water A duck said, "Quack!" Up in the tree-top A crow answered back, Two of us amusing, Two of us confusing: So we had to give up talking, And just listen to their clack.

"Quack!" said the little duck, Swimming with the tide; "Caw!" said the saucy crow, Swelling up with pride, "I'm a jolly rover, And I live in clover: Don't you wish that you were here, Sitting by my side?"

"Quack, quack!" said the duck, Very much like "No." "Caw, caw!--ha, ha!" Laughed the silly crow: Two of us delighting, Two of us inviting To join the merry frolic With a ringing ho, ho, ho!

Crack!--and a bullet went Flying from a gun! Duck swimming down the stream, We on a run, Wondered why or whether We couldn't be together Without another coming in And spoiling all the fun!

JOSEPHINE POLLARD.

IN THE COUNTRY.

FANNY and Willy are having a nice ride on the back of the great cart-horse.

Mamma points at Willy with her sun-shade, and says, "Hold on tight, little boy." Pink, the dog, says, "Bow-wow! Take me up there with you."

Kate and Jane have the care of the biddies. They feed them with corn every day. The hens flock around the door as soon as the two girls come out.

Kate and Jane both say that the hens are fond of them; but I think they are still more fond of the corn.

A. B. C.

DODGER.

DODGER is a full-blooded Scotch terrier. His eyes are the brightest of all bright eyes; and he acts just as one might suppose from his name. He dodges here and there,--under the sofa, and behind the stove, and up in a chair, and sometimes puts his paws up on the baby's cradle.

The other day, the baby's red sock dropped off from his foot; and Dodger slyly picked it up, and, going to a corner of the room, ate off the red tassels that were on it. I don't think he will do it again; for he did not act as though they tasted very good.

Dodger has many cunning ways. He will bring his master's slippers, sit up straight, pretend to be dead, and do many other funny things. Just now his master is trying to teach him to shut a door.

Dodger belongs to a little boy in Hartford, Conn., who has read "The Nursery" for five years. The little boy's name is Georgie, and I am

GEORGIE'S MAMMA.

THE MOTHER-HEN.

BY the side of my home a river runs; and down close by the banks of it lives a good family named Allen. Mr. Allen keeps a large number of hens and ducks. One old hen had twice been put to sit on ducks' eggs, and hatched two broods of ducks.

The first brood she hatched took to the water as soon as they saw it, as all little ducks will. The old hen was almost crazy at such behavior on the part of her chicks, and flew down to the water's edge, clucking and calling at a great rate. However,--to her great surprise, probably,--they all came safely to land. Every day after that, when the little ducks went for a swim, their hen-mother walked nervously back and forth on the shore, and was not easy till they came out of the water.

By and by, after those ducks had all grown large, the hen hatched another brood. These, too, at first sight of the water, went in for a swim. The old hen was not quite as frightened as before, but stood and looked at them, clucking a little to herself, as if to say, "Strange chickens these of mine; but yet, if they like it, I don't know as I need care, so long as they don't ask me to go with them." So, after a while, that brood grew to be big ducks.

One day last summer, as I sat on the bank of the river, looking at the pretty blue rippling water, who should come walking proudly down to the water's-edge but, Mrs. Hen with another brood of little, waddling, yellow ducks behind her! She led them clear to the edge of the water, saw them start off, and, turning away, went contentedly to scratching at some weeds on the shore, taking no more notice of her little family. She had come to regard this swimming business as a matter of course.

Now one little duck, for some reason,--maybe he was not so strong as the others,--had not gone into the water with the rest, but remained sitting on the shore. Presently the mother-hen, turning round, happened to spy him. She stopped scratching, and looked at him as if she were saying, "All my chickens swim: now what is the matter with you? I know it must be laziness; and I won't have that."

Then spreading out her wings, and making an angry clucking, she flew towards the unlucky duckling, took him by the back of his neck in her beak, and threw him as far as possible into the water. As she walked back to her weeds again; it seemed almost as if I could hear her say,--

"The chicken who can swim and _won't_ swim must be made to swim."

L. W. E.

SONG OF THE CAT.

Words by A. LLOYD. Music by T. CRAMPTON

1. The cat and her kittens recline in the sun, Mew! mew! mew! They're fond of their food and they're fond of their fun; Mew! mew! mew! Their old mother says they must sit in a row, The biggest is Jack and the little one Joe, And now altogether they make the place ring, With the one song they know and the chorus they sing: Mew! mew! mew! . . . Mew! mew! mew!

2. My dear little kittens when you are well grown, Mew! mew! mew! Some day you will each have a home of your own; Mew! mew! mew! You'll catch all the mice and you'll kill all the rats, And grow up, I hope, both respectable cats, Don't get in the cupboard, nor kill the poor lark, Keep away from big dogs and get home before dark; Mew! mew! mew! . . . Mew! mew! mew!

3. The kittens they listen'd and said they'd be good, Mew! mew! mew! And not kill the birds nor destroy the young brood! Mew! mew! mew! They lov'd their good mother, and tho't 'twould be nice, To grow strong and hearty and catch and kill mice. She wash'd all their faces and put them to bed, And now what do you think was the last thing they said; Mew! mew! mew! . . . Mew! mew! mew!

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Transcriber's Notes:

The January edition of the Nursery had a table of contents for the first six issues of the year. This table was divided to cover each specific issue. A title page copied from the January edition was also used for this number.

A comma was changed to a period on page 94 (tasted very good).