Part 2

THE THRUSH FEEDING THE CUCKOO.

THE cuckoo is a queer bird. It arrives in England about the middle of April, and departs in the autumn for the woods of Northern Africa. In every language the well-known notes of the male bird have suggested its name.

In its habits it is shy; and its voice may be often heard whilst the eye seeks in vain to find the bird itself. Its food consists of caterpillars and various insects.

The female cuckoo makes no nest, and takes no care of her young. How do you suppose she does? Having a wide bill, she takes up in it one of her eggs, which she puts in the nest of some other bird that feeds on insects.

The strange nurses to whom the cuckoo confides her young become not only good mothers to them, but neglect their own children to take care of the young cuckoos.

As the young cuckoo thrives and grows strong, he thrusts the other birds out of the nest, so that he may have all the room to himself. For five weeks or more his adopted mother supplies him with food.

In the picture a thrush is represented as feeding a young cuckoo, that has probably driven off all the thrush's own children.

DORA BURNSIDE.

JIPPY AND JIMMY.

JIPPY and Jimmy were two little dogs: They went to sail on some floating logs. The logs rolled over, the dogs rolled in; And they got very wet, for their clothes were thin.

Jippy and Jimmy crept out again: They said, "The river is full of rain!" They said, "The water is far from dry! Ky-hi! ky-hi! ky-hi! ky-hi!"

Jippy and Jimmy went shivering home: They said, "On the river no more we'll roam; And we won't go to sail until we learn how,-- Bow-wow, bow-wow, bow-wow, bow-wow!"

LAURA E. RICHARDS.

THE JOLLY OLD COOPER.

A JOLLY old cooper am I, And I'm mending this tub, do you see? The workmen are gone, and I am alone, And their tools are quite handy for me. Now hammer and hammer away! This hoop I must fit to the tub: One, two--but I wish it would stay-- The workmen have gone to their grub. How pleased they will be when they find That I can do work to their mind!

Yes, a jolly old cooper--But stop! What's this? Where's the tub? Oh, despair! Knocked into a heap there it lies. To face them now, how shall I dare? The knocks I have given the tub Will be echoed, I fear, on my head. They are coming! Oh, yes! I can hear,-- I can hear on the sidewalk a tread. Shall I stay, and confess it was I? Yes, that's better than telling a lie!

ALFRED SELWYN.

THE CAT AND THE STARLING.

THE European starling is a sprightly and handsome bird, about eight inches long, of a black color with purple and greenish reflections, and spotted with buff. It may be taught to repeat a few words, and to whistle short tunes.

A little boy in England, who had one as a pet, which he named Dicky, tells the following story about it:--

"I took it home with me, and got a cage for it. But Master Dicky was not satisfied with so little room, and got out, and took possession of the whole house. One morning I was awakened by his chirping, and, on looking around, I saw him on my pillow, to which he used to come every morning.

"We had at the same time a cat, with whom he soon became very good friends. They always drank milk out of the same saucer. One afternoon, a basin of milk being on the table, Master Dicky thought he would take a bath: so in he went, splashing the milk all over the table.

"Sometimes he would take it into his head to have a ride on the cat's back, to which she had no objection. At night he would sleep with the cat and kitten; and once when the servant came down in the morning, she said that she saw the cat with her paw around the bird, keeping him warm, though that seems almost too much to believe."

R. B.

THE EXPRESS PACKAGE.

A PACKAGE came, With Gold-Locks' name Written in letters bold and free Upon the cover: She turned it over, And cried, "Is it for me, for me?"

'Twas scarce a minute Before within it Her eyes had peeped with curious awe: There, sweet as a rose, And folded close In tissue, what do you think she saw?

A doll? Ah, yes! You would never guess A dolly could be so very sweet, Or have such grace, From the blooming face Down to the tips of her slippered feet.

She smiled, and smiled, Like a real live child, And opened her eyes of bluest blue, As little Gold-Locks From out the box Lifted, and held her up to view.

In ruffles and puffs Of gauzy stuffs, She looked like a fresh white flower, full-blown, And Gold-Locks' heart Gave a happy start, As she thought, "She is all my own, my own!"

MRS. CLARA DOTY BATES.

THE WHITE OWL.

Words by TENNYSON. Music by T. CRAMPTON.

1. When cats run home and light is come, And dew is cold upon the ground, And the far-off stream is dumb, And the whirring sail goes round, And the whirring sail goes round. Alone and warming his fine wits, The white owl in the belfry sits.

2. When merry milkmaids click the latch, And rarely smells the new-mown hay, And the cock beneath the thatch, Thrice has sung his roundelay, Thrice has sung his roundelay. Alone and warming his fine wits, The white owl in the belfry sits.

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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 114, "go" changed to "got" (After we had got)

Page 128, period changed to a comma on chorus of song (his fine wits,)