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diff --git a/24478-h/24478-h.htm b/24478-h/24478-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a6ab2c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/24478-h/24478-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1798 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Nursery, May 1873, Vol. XIII., by Various. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} + .story {font-size: 200%; margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + .hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Nursery, May 1873, Vol. XIII., by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Nursery, May 1873, Vol. XIII. + A Monthly Magazine for Youngest People + +Author: Various + +Release Date: January 31, 2008 [EBook #24478] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, MAY 1873 *** + + + + +Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> +<h3>THE</h3> + +<h1>NURSERY</h1> + +<h2><i>A Monthly Magazine</i></h2> + +<h2><span class="smcap">For Youngest Readers.</span></h2> + +<div class='center'>VOLUME XIII.—No. 5<br /> + +<br /><br /> +BOSTON:<br /> +JOHN L. SHOREY, No. 36 BROMFIELD STREET.<br /> +1873.<br /> +</div> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<small>Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873,</small><br /> +<br /> +<small><span class="smcap">By</span> JOHN L. SHOREY,</small><br /> +<br /> +<small>In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.</small><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap"><small>Boston:</small><br /> +<small>Rand, Avery, & Co., Stereotypers and Printers.</small></span><br /> +</div> + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/contents.png" width="400" height="208" alt="Contents" title="Contents" /> +</div> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'>IN PROSE.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='center'><small>PAGE.</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mabel's Cow</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Harry and the Big Pop-Corner</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>What Dempsey is proud of</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>What Mamie did</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Snip's Story</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Brindled Cow</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Naming the Kitten</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Little Gilbert</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>What Birdie saw in Town</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Prince and Tip</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Napoleon Violets</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Life of a Sparrow</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Little Mischief</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><br />IN VERSE.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Jenny and Timothy Wren</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Baby in the High Chair</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Guess</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mistress Mouse</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Kitten (<i>with music</i>)</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus04.png" width="300" height="146" alt="Decoration: Cherub and birds" title="Decoration: Cherub and birds" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 272px;"> +<img src="images/illus129.png" width="272" height="400" alt="MABEL'S COW." title="MABEL'S COW." /> +<span class="caption">MABEL'S COW.</span> +</div> + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<h2>MABEL'S COW.</h2> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 93px;"> +<img src="images/t.png" width="93" height="100" alt="T" title="T" /> +</div><div class='unindent'><br />HE cow nearest to you in the picture is Mabel's +cow; and Mabel Brittan is the taller of the two +girls on the bridge. I will tell you why the +cow is called Mabel's cow.</div> + +<p>Her family live in a wild but beautiful part +of New Hampshire, where it is very cold in winter, and +pretty warm in summer. There are only two small houses +within a mile of her father's. He keeps cows, and makes +nice butter from the cream.</p> + +<p>Not long ago he bought a cow at a great bargain, as he +thought; for she was a fine-looking young cow, and the +price he paid for her was only twenty-five dollars.</p> + +<p>But, before he had got through the first milking of her, he +began to think she was dear at any price. She would kick +over the pail, make vicious plunges, and try to hook him. +Indeed, he grew afraid of her, she was so violent.</p> + +<p>He took down a heavy whip, and was about to strike her +in great anger, when his little daughter Mabel caught his +arm, and said, "She will never be good for any thing if you +strike her. Let me try to manage her."</p> + +<p>And, before Mr. Brittan could prevent her, Mabel had her +arm round the cow's neck, and was calling her all the sweet +pet names she could think of.</p> + +<p>"All that is very well," said her father; "but just you +try to milk her: that's all. No, you sha'n't venture. It +would be as much as your life is worth."</p> + +<p>"I am very sure she will let me milk her," said Mabel. +"Do not forbid my trying. She looks at me out of her big +eyes as if she thought me her friend."</p> + +<p>So Mabel took the tin pail, and sat down on the little low<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +milking-stool; and soon, to her father's astonishment, she finished +milking, the cow having stood all the while as quiet +as a lamb.</p> + +<p>It was found that the cow had been badly treated by the +man who had owned her, and who had been in the habit of +milking her. Being a high-spirited beast, she then gave him +so much trouble, that he was soon glad to be rid of her.</p> + +<p>She would now let no one touch her but Mabel: so Mr. +Brittan finally said that the cow should be Mabel's cow, and +that all the butter which the cow yielded should be hers. +But Mabel is a generous girl; and so she shares the money +she earns. Her mother, her sister Emily, and her brothers +Oliver and Frank, all get a part of it.</p> + +<p>Mabel has given the cow a name; and the cow will come +to her when she calls her by name. The name is a very +pretty one for a cow, I think. It is Dido.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Emily Carter.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<h2>HARRY AND THE BIG "POP-CORNER."</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Little Harold</span> was delighted, one winter morning, to +hear that he could go to his grandpapa's with his mother, +for a few days. He had often been there in summer, when +the grass was green, and flowers were blooming around the +old homestead; but this was his first <i>winter</i> visit.</p> + +<p>A pleasant ride of forty miles by the railway, then a +short ride in an old-fashioned stage-sleigh, and the sober +old horses, with their jingling bells, stopped before grandpa's +pleasant home.</p> + +<p>Harry ran up to the door, shouting, "We've come, grandpa! +We've come!" The door opened; the little fellow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +rushed into his grandpa's arms; and golden curls and thin +gray locks were mingled for an instant. Then the young +arms were thrown around dear Aunt Susie; and such a +welcome was given as little boys love to have.</p> + +<p>Harry then trotted off to the kitchen to find his friend +Patty, the cook. In a few minutes he came running back, +exclaiming, "O mamma! do come and see what a big <i>pop-corner</i> +Patty has in the kitchen."</p> + +<p>"Corn-popper, I suppose you mean," said his mamma, +laughing, as she and Aunt Susie followed him to the kitchen. +There, hanging behind the stove, was a large brass pan, as +bright as gold: it had a cover full of holes, and a long handle. +This was what Harry took for a corn-popper.</p> + +<p>"Oh! that is a warming-pan," said his mother. "A +what kind of a pan?" said Harry with great surprise. +"What <i>do</i> you mean, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Harry, if you can be quiet a minute, I will tell you. +When your Aunt Susie and I were little girls, and your uncles +little boys, grandpapa's house was not warmed all over, as it +is now. Furnaces were not used in those days; and the +bed-rooms up stairs were very cold.</p> + +<p>"So, on the coldest nights of winter, grandma would +have this pan filled with hot coals, and the beds all nicely +warmed. Sometimes the boys would have great frolics; for +dear grandmamma would have their bed so very warm, that, +as soon as they had jumped in, <i>out</i> they would come, saying +they were burned.</p> + +<p>"But they would spring back again, and cuddle down, +and laugh, and tell stories, and sing, until grandpapa would +have to come to the foot of the stairs, and call out, 'Boys, +boys, I must have less noise!'"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Harry after hearing this story, "I should +like to try it, and see how my little uncles felt so long ago.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +Will you warm my bed to-night, Patty?"—"Oh, yes! +indeed I will. Master Harry," said Patty.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 277px;"> +<img src="images/illus133.png" width="277" height="209" alt="A big corn-popper" title="A big corn-popper" /> +</div> + +<p>Harry wanted to go to bed earlier than usual that night; +and, before seven o'clock, he ran to the kitchen to ask Patty +to put the coals in the pan. Patty took a shovel, and first +put in some hot ashes. "What is that for?" said Harry.</p> + +<p>"So the sheets will not be burned," said Patty. Then +she put in some glowing coals, and told Harry that the +warming-pan was ready.</p> + +<p>Harry called his mamma; and they went up to the square +front-room. Patty gave the cold sheets a good warming +while mamma was unbuttoning the little shoes and clothes; +and, when Harry had got on his night-gown, he said, "Now +for a good jump,—one, two, three, four, and away!"</p> + +<p>Then he sprang into the warm nest; and such a shout as +the little fellow gave made even grandpa start from his +rocking-chair. "Oh, goody! oh, how <i>jolly</i>! oh, how splen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>did!" +said Harry. "I thought grandpapa's house was +splendid in the summer; but it is a great deal <i>splendider</i> +in the winter.</p> + +<p>"But, mamma," continued he, "won't I have a nice story +to tell Charlie and Susie when I get home, about this big +pop-corner?"</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Mamma.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<h2>WHAT DEMPSEY IS PROUD OF.</h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">What</span> are you proudest of?" said Mattie to Bertie. +"I'm proudest of my new red-top boots," said Bertie. "<i>I'm</i> +proudest of my new black hat," said Clay. Mattie was +proudest of her muff and boa. Little Bell was proudest of +her wax doll.</p> + +<p>But Dempsey had the queerest pride of all. He had no +boots or mittens; and his clothes were coarse and worn. +What had he to be proud of? This is what he said, "I'm +proudest of my papa's wooden leg." The other little people +were too polite to laugh at him; but they looked at him +with wonder.</p> + +<p>"Let me tell you," said he, "why I'm proud of my papa's +wooden leg. One time when there was a war, and men were +wanted to help fight the battles, my papa took his gun, and +went into the army. And when there was a great battle, and +men were shot down all around him, my papa stood beside +the man that held the flag. And, when the man was killed, +my papa would not let the flag fall, but took it in his own +hands. Then the soldiers on the other side fired at the +flag with a big cannon; and the ball took off my papa's leg. +He was sick a long time; but he got a letter from his commander +that said he was a brave man, and had done his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +duty nobly. This is why I am proud of my papa's wooden +leg."</p> + +<p>Mattie and Bertie and Clay and Bell all thought that this +was a pretty story; and Clay said, "Dempsey is right. He +has something more to be proud of than any of us."</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Fannie.</span><br /> +</div> + + + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div><div class="figcenter" style="width: 162px;"> +<img src="images/illus135.png" width="162" height="200" alt="Jenny and Timothy" title="Jenny and Timothy" /> +</div> +<h2>JENNY AND TIMOTHY WREN.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">Sweet</span> little, neat little Miss Jenny Wren,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">On a white hawthorn spray,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In the bright month of May,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sat chirping so sweet,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Pewhit and pewheet,"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Where daisies unfold.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And kingcups of gold</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>Shine out on a glad May morning.<br /> +<br /> +Down-crested, brown-breasted Timothy Wren,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As he fluttered along,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Trilled the snatch of a song;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Then chirruped her name</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As near her he came,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And told of his love,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As meek as a dove,</span><br /> +To Jenny, that bright May morning.<br /> +<br /> +"Hear, Jenny, dear Jenny, sweet Jenny Wren:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">If you'll be my own wife,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I will love you through life;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">We'll gather the moss,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Soft feathers, and floss;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And build us a nest,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The neatest and best,</span><br /> +And sing through the bright May mornings."<br /> +<br /> +May blossoms, gay blossoms, curtained their nest:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Through the tiny mouse-hole,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Little Jenny she stole;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">There, of no one afraid,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ten fine eggs she laid,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">While Timothy dear</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sang blithely and clear,</span><br /> +"How sweet are the bright May mornings!"<br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'><br /> +<span class="smcap">George Bennett.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<h2>WHAT MAMIE DID.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Mamie</span> is a little girl five years old, with bright black +eyes, and rosy red cheeks.</p> + +<p>She is very fond of "The Nursery," as are a great many +other Mamies.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 227px;"> +<img src="images/illus137.png" width="227" height="300" alt="Getting subscribers" title="Getting subscribers" /> +</div> + +<p>Now, which Mamie is this story about? They are all +wondering, but cannot tell certainly, till they have heard it +read.</p> + +<p>Well, one cold winter's day, <i>this</i> little Mamie came to her +mother with a very urgent request. What do you suppose +it was? To go out coasting? No.</p> + +<p>To go to visit her little friend Nellie? No.</p> + +<p>To take a sleigh-ride with her papa? Wrong again.</p> + +<p>Ah! you can never guess, and I will tell you.</p> + +<p>It was this: "O mamma! do put on my things, and let +me go out and get <i>ex</i>scribers for 'The Nursery.'"</p> + +<p>Mamma shook her head; though she could not help laugh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>ing +at the little girl's mistake, for she meant <i>sub</i>scribers. It +<i>is</i> a hard word; but this little Mamie knew the meaning +well.</p> + +<p>"O mamma! <i>please</i> do; for you know <i>I</i> love it. And Jennie +and Katie and Bessie will love it too, if they only <i>know</i> +about it; and, besides, I can get a present, if I send some +new names to 'The Nursery' man."</p> + +<p>Little Mamie was so urgent in her request, that her +mother asked papa what he thought about it.</p> + +<p>Papa said, "Oh, let her try if she wants to: it will do no +harm." How the black eyes danced! and the little feet +could hardly keep still, while mamma dressed her up very +warmly, till she was just about as large one way as the other.</p> + +<p>"Now, mamma, for my muff; and, oh! I must have a +'Nursery' to show." So, with a "Nursery" sticking out of +one end of the little muff, this Mamie started on her errand. +All the way along to Bessie's house, she kept saying, <i>sub</i>scribe, +<i>sub</i>scribe, so that she might not make another mistake +in the word.</p> + +<p>She was gone but an hour, and returned with the names +of six children, who were to be made glad each month by +the visits of Mamie's friend.</p> + +<p>Mamie was full of glee, and could hardly eat any supper, +so anxious was she for her papa to send the names to +Boston.</p> + +<p>Well, they were all sent; and the six little friends have +been made glad by receiving each a "Nursery" of her own; +and next month they will be glad again, and so on for a +whole year.</p> + +<p>Did Mamie get a present? Oh, yes! She got a present +from "The Nursery" man, which she values very highly.</p> + +<p>Now, can you tell <i>which</i> little Mamie this is?</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Mary Myrtle.</span><br /> +</div> + + + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 277px;"> +<img src="images/illus139.png" width="277" height="208" alt="Snip" title="Snip" /> +</div> +<h2>SNIP'S STORY.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> name is Snip. You can read it on my collar: though +why my master put it there I can't tell; for everybody +knows me, and almost everybody is my friend. People stop +in the street to pat me; the little children love to have me +play with them, because I never snarl and bite; and the +butcher round the corner saves me a bone every day. I +think butchers are very nice men.</p> + +<p>Every morning I go down street to get the newspaper for +my master. The bookseller always has it rolled up, waiting +for me, and puts it in my mouth; and back I trot as fast as +my legs will go. To-day I had a hard time of it; for, just as +I got nicely started for home, some bad boys who were playing +in the road saw me, and thought it would be fine fun to +catch me, and take my paper away.</p> + +<p>They ran after me, hooting and yelling; and I was so +frightened, that I trembled all over. But I could run faster<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +than they; and they soon gave up the chase. That was not +the end, though; for one of them threw a stone after me, which +hit me on one of my paws, and so I came home limping. +But do you suppose I let the newspaper drop? Not a bit of it.</p> + +<p>I have been barking at this door a long time; and yet nobody +comes to open it. I wonder where my master is, that +he doesn't hear me. Perhaps he is asleep. I am very hungry +for my dinner; and I should like to get into the house, +and lie down in my corner by the kitchen-fire.</p> + +<p>I can push open the garden-gate with my nose; but this +door won't move a bit when I put my paws on it. I wonder +why dogs can't open doors as well as gates. I am going to +bark again. Bow-wow-wow! There! Didn't you hear a +footstep? Yes: there comes some one to let me in.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">H. B.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/illus140.png" width="150" height="136" alt="Snip with the paper" title="Snip with the paper" /> +</div> + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<h2>BABY IN HER HIGH CHAIR.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">Here</span> I am all ready: here's my little plate<br /> +Wants some 'tato on it: papa, you'll be late.<br /> +Here's the milk a-waiting in my silver cup;<br /> +I'm so hungry! will somebody please to push me up.<br /> +<br /> +Didn't see me, did you, scrambling up my chair?<br /> +Got up all alone too; would you think I'd dare?<br /> +Got my clothes all twisted; 'fraid I mussed my curls:<br /> +What did papa say about frowsy-headed girls?<br /></div><p> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 222px;"> +<img src="images/illus141.png" width="222" height="300" alt="Baby in her highchair" title="Baby in her highchair" /> +</div> + +<div class='poem'> +Dear, I have such troubles! people are so slow!<br /> +Don't they want some supper, I should like to know?<br /> +There's a fly gone swimming in my silver cup;<br /> +And I can't quite reach him, 'cause I'm not pushed up.<br /> +<br /> +Here's my mamma coming; here come Sue and Fred;<br /> +Now there goes the ding-dong, just as if it said,<br /> +"Little folks and big folks, time to come and sup!"<br /> +Thank you, papa, thank you, for pushing Bessie up.<br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'><br /> +<span class="smcap">Helen Barron Bostwick.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE BRINDLED COW.</h2> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 125px;"> +<img src="images/illus142a.png" width="125" height="96" alt="The cow in the pasture" title="The cow in the pasture" /> +</div> + +<div class='story'><span class="smcap">The</span> cow is in the +pasture, feeding. The +pasture has been wet +with the rain, and the +grass is fresh and sweet. The +rain makes the grass grow.</div> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 125px;"> +<img src="images/illus142b.png" width="125" height="110" alt="Under a shady tree" title="Under a shady tree" /> +</div> + +<div class='story'>The sun is hot, and +the cow has lain down +under a shady tree. +She is chewing her +cud. It is nice and cool in the +shade.</div> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 125px;"> +<img src="images/illus142c.png" width="125" height="107" alt="Rubbing her nose against the tree" title="Rubbing her nose against the tree" /> +</div> + +<div class='story'>But the flies bite +her, and plague her. +She tries to scare +them off; but they +come again. Then she gets up, +and rubs her nose against the +tree.</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 125px;"> +<img src="images/illus143a.png" width="125" height="110" alt="Standing in the water" title="Standing in the water" /> +</div> + +<div class='story'>Now she is standing +in the water. The +water feels cool to her +feet; but the flies still +plague her. She splashes the +water to drive the flies away.</div> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 125px;"> +<img src="images/illus143b.png" width="125" height="106" alt="The milk-maid" title="The milk-maid" /> +</div> + +<div class='story'>By and by the milk-maid +comes out, and +calls, "Co-boss, co-boss!" +The cow +hears her, and walks slowly +along to the barn.</div> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 125px;"> +<img src="images/illus143c.png" width="125" height="107" alt="Milking the cow" title="Milking the cow" /> +</div> + +<div class='story'>The cow stands +quite still while the +maid is milking her. +But is not the maid +seated on the wrong side of the +cow? My cow would kick the +pail over if I should milk her +in that way.</div> + +<div class='sig'> +W. O. C.<br /> +</div> + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> +<h2>NAMING THE KITTEN.</h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">What</span> shall be the kitten's name?" asked Rachel of her +younger sister, who stood holding up her apron, and begging +to take the little pet.</p> + +<p>"It is <i>my</i> kitten," pleaded Alice; "and I ought to have it."</p> + +<p>"The old cat evidently thinks it is <i>her</i> kitten. Hark! +Hear her mew! 'Mine, mine, mine,' she seems to say."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Alice, "I can soon quiet the old cat with a +saucer of milk. Come, give me the kitten; that's a good +Rachel!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I will give it to you on one condition."</p> + +<p>"Name it: perhaps I can grant it."</p> + +<p>"The condition is, that you give the kitten a name,—a +name that I shall approve of."</p> + +<p>"Oh! that I can do right off. We will call her Arabella."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! that is too long and grand a name for a kitten. +It will do very well for a proud lady-doll from Paris, +but not for this little scratcher."</p> + +<p>"How would you like the name of Betsy?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. I <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'thing'">think</ins> it a homely sort of name."</p> + +<p>"Well, will any of these do?—Pet, Muff, Tabby, Tit, Tip-top, +Scamper, Nap, Mop, Pop, Grab?"</p> + +<p>"I think you must have got those from some story-book."</p> + +<p>"You guessed right that time," said Alice. "Name the +kitten yourself, if none of my names will satisfy you. Put +her in my lap, and I will get some cream, and let her lap it."</p> + +<p>"Lappit, did you say? That's a new name, and a good +one!" cried Rachel. "You have hit upon a name at last. +We will call the kitten Lappit. Now hold up your apron, +and I will put Lappit in your lap."</p> + +<p>Alice laughed at her sister's play upon the word; and, +taking the kitten in her apron, she ran off into the garden, +followed by the old cat.</p> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 272px;"> +<img src="images/illus145.png" width="272" height="400" alt="NAMING THE KITTEN." title="NAMING THE KITTEN." /> +<span class="caption">NAMING THE KITTEN.</span> +</div> + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> +<h2>LITTLE GILBERT.</h2> + +<h3>A TRUE STORY.</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Many</span> years ago a little boy, named Gilbert, lived in a +small town in New Brunswick, on the banks of the St. John +River. The river is deep and swift; and Gilbert's papa had +often warned him not to go too near the brink.</p> + +<p>One day, when the little fellow was about six years old, +he went with his papa down to the river; and, while his papa +stopped to talk with a friend, Gilbert wandered along the +shore.</p> + +<p>He took with him his fishing-rod, and thought it would be +fine fun to catch a fish all by himself: so he went close to +the edge of the water, and dropped in his line.</p> + +<p>After waiting a few minutes without getting a bite, he +thought he would walk out on a raft that he saw close by, +and try his luck in a new spot. He crept along till he +reached the outer edge of the raft; but then, as he threw out +his line, his little bare feet slipped, and over he went, plump +into the river. A splash, a scream, and down he went.</p> + +<p>At the time of this story, there were a good many Indians +in New Brunswick; and a party of them were in camp in the +woods near the river. They were harmless, peaceable Indians, +and very friendly to the boys of the neighborhood, +who liked to visit their tents, and see them weave baskets, +and make bows and arrows, and scarlet slippers, and other +pretty things.</p> + +<p>Luckily for Gilbert, an Indian boy happened to be fishing +near the raft, and saw him slip off into the water. Although +the Indian boy was not much older than Gilbert, +he was larger and stronger, and he knew how to swim. In<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +an instant he plunged into the river, seized the poor little +drowning boy, and brought him to the land safe and sound.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 277px;"> +<img src="images/illus147.png" width="277" height="211" alt="Little Gilbert saved" title="Little Gilbert saved" /> +</div> + +<p>His papa took him in his arms, all wet and dripping, and, +after thanking the brave Indian boy for his noble deed, +hurried home, scolding Gilbert by the way for disobedience. +Poor little Gilbert was very miserable. It was not at all nice +to be wet and frightened and scolded all at once; and, worse +than all, he feared he would be punished when he got home.</p> + +<p>So, when his papa carried him into the kitchen, it was +a great comfort to the little fellow to see his good grandmother +sitting by the fire. She was very fond of Gilbert; +and, when she saw what a plight he was in, she begged his +papa not to punish the dear child this time, saying she +was sure he had been punished enough already by his fright +and his ducking.</p> + +<p>His papa was so happy to have his little boy alive and +safe, that it was easy to forgive him; and in a little while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +Gilbert was dressed in dry clothes, and sat down on his little +stool before the fire to eat a red apple which his grandmother +had brought him.</p> + +<p>That night, when little Gilbert said his prayer, he put in +at the end, "God bless the brave Indian boy who saved my +life!"</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Muz-muz.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<h2>WHAT BIRDIE SAW IN TOWN.</h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Birdie</span>," you must know, is a little girl three and a half +years old. Her real name is Maud; but "Birdie" is her pet +name.</p> + +<p>One day she went to the city in the horse-cars with her +mamma. They waited on the corner of the street till a car +came in sight; then Birdie held up her little fat finger, and +the conductor saw it, and stopped the car.</p> + +<p>After they were seated, the conductor called out, "Fares, +ladies!" And Maud said to him, "Here is mamma's ticket; +and won't you please leave us at grandpa's house?" He +smiled, and nodded his head, and Birdie felt satisfied; for +she thought he must know, of course, where grandpa lived.</p> + +<p>When they reached town, mamma took her into a store +where birds are kept for sale; and Birdie saw, to her great +delight, hundreds of canary-birds, and a good many bright-colored +parrots. It was very funny indeed to hear them all +singing and chattering together.</p> + +<p>There were two beautiful birds in a large cage, taking +their morning bath. They would jump down into their little +bath-tub, dip their heads in the water, and then plunge +in all over; then they would perch on the side of the tub, +shake the bright drops from their feathers, and seem to be +enjoying themselves as much as Birdie herself does when +mamma puts her into her bath-tub.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 277px;"> +<img src="images/illus149.png" width="277" height="209" alt="Birdie at the pet shop" title="Birdie at the pet shop" /> +</div> + +<p>Then there were some squirrels in a cage that went round +and round; and Birdie thought she should never get tired +of looking at them, with their bushy tails and bright black +eyes. She saw them crack some nuts with their little sharp +teeth.</p> + +<p>There were also a great many goldfishes in a little pond; +and Birdie watched them darting through the water, and +thought how nice it would be to have some of them at home.</p> + +<p>One thing more Birdie saw, which pleased her very much. +On the corner of the street stood a man with a basket on his +arm; and in it were four or five little black-and-white puppies +("baby-dogs" Birdie called them), all cuddled up in a +heap, and looking very comfortable in their wicker-carriage.</p> + +<p>The little girl took good care to point out all the sights +to Daisy, her doll, whom she carried in her arms, and who +always has to take an airing when her little mistress does.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Florence</span>.<br /> +</div> + + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/illus150.png" width="200" height="171" alt="Guess" title="Guess" /> +</div> +<h2>GUESS.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">I see</span> two lilies, white as snow,<br /> +That mother loves and kisses so;<br /> +Dearer they are than gold or lands:<br /> +Guess me the lilies,—baby's hands!<br /> +<br /> +I know a rosebud fairer far<br /> +Than any buds of summer are;<br /> +Sweeter than sweet winds of the south:<br /> +Guess me the rosebud,—baby's mouth!<br /> +<br /> +I've found a place where shines the sun:<br /> +Yes, long, long, after day is done;<br /> +Oh! how it loves to linger there:<br /> +Guess me the sunshine,—baby's hair!<br /> +<br /> +There are two windows where I see<br /> +My own glad face peep out at me;<br /> +These windows beam like June's own skies:<br /> +Guess me the riddle,—baby's eyes!<br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">George Cooper.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> +<h2>PRINCE AND TIP.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Prince</span> is a small shaggy dog, of a light-brown color. +Tip is also a small dog, but is black, and has short, smooth +hair. They are very fond of each other, and frolic together +like two kittens.</p> + +<p>Prince is always making acquaintances. He has several +places in the neighborhood where he makes himself at home. +He is always welcome, and he knows it: so he comes and +goes as he pleases. Even when his master ties him, he cannot +be kept from visiting his friends.</p> + +<p>It was for a long time a wonder to us how he got untied; +but we kept watch one day, and found that Tip, +with his paws and mouth, loosened the knot, so that Prince +could slip his head out; and then the two dogs scampered +off in great glee. Prince, or Pinny, as we call him, plays +some funny tricks. When we tell him to shake hands, he +stands up on his hind-feet, and gives first his right, and then +his left paw.</p> + +<p>Sometimes we say to him, "Now, Pinny, play sick." +Then he lies down, droops his head, and puts on a woe-begone +look. We run around him, saying, "Poor Pinny!" and +he all the while seems to enjoy the joke. As soon as we +say, "Up Pinny, all well," he jumps up, shakes himself, and +gives a knowing look, which seems to say, "Didn't I do that +well?"</p> + +<p>When we tell him to play beggar, he sits up on his +haunches, raises his fore-paws, and whines dolefully.</p> + +<p>When we hear a noise, and say, "See if anybody's +coming, Pinny!" he goes to the door, and listens: if any +one is coming, he barks loudly; if not, he comes quietly +back.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sometimes the two dogs play horses. Their master takes +a rope a few feet long, and ties one end around Pinny's neck, +and the other around Tip's. Then, when the word is given, +they set off and gallop up the road abreast, like two ponies. +When their master whistles, they turn round, and come +back.</p> + +<p>Sometimes they are harnessed to a little wagon; and the +children take turns in having a ride. The dogs seem to +enjoy it as much as the children. They are impatient to +start; but they wait for each other to be harnessed: they +are not in quite such a hurry as the dog in the following +picture.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Gertie Adams.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/illus152.png" width="200" height="114" alt="Harnessed to a little wagon" title="Harnessed to a little wagon" /> +</div> + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<h2>MISTRESS MOUSE.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Mistress Mouse</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Built a house</span><br /> +In mamma's best bonnet.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">All the cats</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Were catching rats,</span><br /> +And didn't light upon it.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">At last they found it,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And around it</span><br /> +Sat watching for the sinner;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When, strange to say,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">She got away,</span><br /> +And so they lost their dinner.<br /></div> + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE NAPOLEON VIOLETS.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> are three profiles of famous persons to be found +among the outlines of this picture, which was drawn as long +ago as the year 1815. One of the profiles is of Napoleon +Bonaparte, a great soldier, who made himself emperor of +France; another profile is of his wife, Marie Louise; and +another of his son, Napoleon Francis Charles Joseph Bonaparte, +styled King of Rome, and by his father proclaimed +Emperor of the French, under the title of Napoleon II., in +the year 1815, when he was only about four years old.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 249px;"> +<img src="images/illus153.png" width="249" height="300" alt="Violets" title="Violets" /> +</div> + +<p>Owing to the defeats and disappointments of his father,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +the child Napoleon never actually became either King of +Rome, or Emperor of France. He died in the year 1832, in +Austria, where his grandfather was emperor.</p> + +<p>Now, which of our readers will be able to discover the +three portraits hidden in this symbolical bunch of violets?</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear! What a big word is this! What does Uncle +Charles mean by <i>symbolical</i>?" I fancy some of my little +friends will exclaim. Well, then, a <i>symbol</i> is merely a sign, +or mark, by which one knows a thing. When you see an +umbrella in a man's hand, it is a symbol, or sign, that he +expects a shower. So the profiles in this bunch of violets +make it <i>symbolical</i>; that is, suggestive of a family group, +who, it was hoped, would be renewed like the violets, and +once more fill a large space in the history of France.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Uncle Charles.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE LIFE OF A SPARROW.</h2> + +<h3>BY HIMSELF.</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">I am</span> a very old sparrow, but not so old that I cannot still +relish a cherry, a grape, or a nice fat worm. I am about to +write a short history of my life, for the instruction of my +children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 125px;"> +<img src="images/illus154.png" width="125" height="88" alt="Parents consulting" title="Parents consulting" /> +</div> + +<p>My parents, after having reared a numerous family, decided +to seek a new home. One +lovely day in spring, they came +to a pretty village which pleased +them, and alighted on a cherry-tree +to consult together. "Here +we will remain," said my father. +"Look at the cherry-trees and +the grape-vines. We have found the right place at last."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 125px;"> +<img src="images/illus155a.png" width="125" height="81" alt="Building the nest" title="Building the nest" /> +</div> + +<p>After looking carefully about for some time, they chose +for their home a new house with a projecting +roof, before which stood three +large cherry-trees in full bloom. My +mother, with the help of my father, +built a nest high up under the roof of +the house, and lined it with soft feathers. She laid four eggs, +but hatched out only one little sparrow; +and I was that lucky one.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 115px;"> +<img src="images/illus155b.png" width="115" height="77" alt="Feeding" title="Feeding" /> +</div> + +<p>My parents fed me constantly with tender +worms; and it is no wonder that the +feathers began to grow on my naked little +body, or that my father soon thought me able to fly. So +one fine day I stood on the edge of the +nest, fluttered my wings, and flew out of +my father's house. With many fears and +a beating heart I at last alighted on an +acacia-tree. While I sat there, I saw many large birds +walking about, and also a cat, against whom my mother had +already warned me; and, directly over my head, I heard +the scream of a hawk.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 125px;"> +<img src="images/illus155c.png" width="125" height="70" alt="Learning to Fly" title="Learning to Fly" /> +</div> + +<p>In my fright, I cried out bitterly; but when the +cat ran away, and the hawk flew into the woods near +by, I grew calm again. My cry soon brought my +mother to my side; and my father came, bringing +a delicious worm to comfort me.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 67px;"> +<img src="images/illus155d.png" width="67" height="85" alt="Crying out" title="Crying out" /> +</div> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 100px;"> +<img src="images/illus155e.png" width="100" height="91" alt="Parents comforting" title="Parents comforting" /> +</div> + +<p>Before many days I was able take care of myself. About +this time I met with an adventure. One day +I saw several of my comrades fly in through +an open window. Wishing to know what they +found, I also flew in, and soon was as busy as +any of them eating the grains of wheat with which the floor +was covered. Suddenly the window was shut, and we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +were caught. A laughing boy put his hand over me, took +me up, then cut my wings, and let me +hop. He was very kind to me; but I +longed for my liberty. Fortunately +my wings soon grew; and one day, +when the window stood open, I flew +away, and found my mother again.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 125px;"> +<img src="images/illus156a.png" width="125" height="79" alt="Caught" title="Caught" /> +</div> + +<p>One sunny day in the autumn, my mother and I sat on a +gate, eating some grains of wheat. A sly old cat who had +hidden under a burdock which grew beside the gate, suddenly +sprang up, and seized my dear mother with her +sharp claws.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 277px;"> +<img src="images/illus156b.png" width="277" height="221" alt="The cat!" title="The cat!" /> +</div> + +<p>My mother was a very wise bird: so, instead of struggling +to get away, she remained so quiet, that Mrs. Pussy soon +thought she must be dead. Before long she put her down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +upon the grass, that she might admire at her leisure the nice +fat sparrow she had caught for her dinner. All at once up +flew my mother, and in an instant was far beyond the reach +of the cat.</p> + +<p>Now I thought I was old enough to have a family of my +own. So I chose me a little sparrow-wife; but I had to +fight several battles before I could conquer all my rivals. +My bravery won her heart; and I +think she has been well content with +her choice. We built our nest, and +soon I had the pleasure of seeing +in it five bluish-white, brown-and-gray-dotted +eggs, and, fourteen days after, five pretty sparrows,—three +sons, and two daughters.</p> + + +<div class="figright" style="width: 125px;"> +<img src="images/illus157a.png" width="125" height="74" alt="A family of his own" title="A family of his own" /> +</div> + +<p>One saucy rogue, with a golden bill, we lost. Like me, +he was caught; but he never regained his liberty. A +friendly little maiden was his mistress, who made him so +tame, that he would eat from her hand. She gave him so +many dainties, that he became too fat, and died. I saw how +the little maiden dug him a grave in her garden. Bitterly +weeping, she placed him therein, covered him with earth, +and planted a cross of flowers on the little mound.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 125px;"> +<img src="images/illus157b.png" width="125" height="59" alt="Little grave" title="Little grave" /> +</div> + +<p>Our other children, one after the +other, founded homes of their own, and +all lived good and useful sparrow-lives. +The multitude of my grandchildren I +am no longer able to count.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">From the German.</span><br /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='poem'> +"<span class="smcap">The</span> seed that springs, and the bird that sings,<br /> +And the shining summer sun,<br /> +The tiny bee, and the mighty sea,<br /> +God made them, every one."<br /></div> + + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> +<h2>LITTLE MISCHIEF.</h2> + + +<h3>XIII.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">What</span> mischief was there for Bessie to-day? The fish in +her mother's aquarium had not been benefited by the hot +bath which Bessie had given them; but that was no reason, +thought she, why a bath would not be a good thing for her +new doll Felicia.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 284px;"> +<img src="images/illus158.png" width="284" height="300" alt="Felicia in the tub" title="Felicia in the tub" /> +</div> + +<p>She had a little doll bath-tub made of tin. So she put it +on a little table, and filled it from a jug of hot water which +happened to be on the hearth. Then she undressed Felicia, +and, holding her up, said, "Now, little lady, you are going +to have a nice warm bath: so be good."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>XIV.</h3> + +<p>Having put Felicia in the bath-tub, Bessie sat down in a +chair before her, and said, "There are not many dolls, little +lady, that have such a kind, loving mother as I am. You +ought to be very good and grateful."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 283px;"> +<img src="images/illus159.png" width="283" height="300" alt="Her head was ruined" title="Her head was ruined" /> +</div> + +<p>Here dolly slipped down in the bath-tub, and her nice +blooming face was all soaked in the hot water. When Bessie +took her out, you would hardly have known Felicia for +the same doll. Her head, which was of wax, was quite +ruined; and her whole body was out of shape and spoiled.</p> + +<p>Bessie ran crying to her mother: but her mother said, +"You do not deserve to have another doll."</p> + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/illus160.png" width="600" height="448" alt="The Kitten" title="The Kitten" /> +</div> +<h2>THE KITTEN</h2> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/music.png" width="600" height="379" alt="Music" title="Music" /> +</div> +<div class="center"><small>[<i>Transcriber's Note: You can play this music (MIDI file) by clicking</i> <a href="music/maymusic.midi">here</a>.]</small></div> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="8" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>2. The milk comes fresh and foaming,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Fresh from the good old cow;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And, after I have lapped it,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I frolic—you know how.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I'm petted by the children,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And the mistress of the house;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And sometimes, when I'm nimble,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I catch a little mouse.</span><br /> +</td><td align='left'>3. But sometimes, when I'm naughty,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I climb upon the stand,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And eat the cake and chicken,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Or any thing at hand;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ah! then they hide my saucer,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">No matter if I mew;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And that's the way I'm punished</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For naughty things I do.</span><br /> +</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> + +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Note:</h3> + +<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p> + +<p>This issue was part of an omnibus. The original text for this issue did +not include a title page or table of contents. This was taken from the +January issue with the "No." added. The original table of contents +covered the entire year of 1873. The remaining text of the table of +contents can be found in the rest of the year's issues.</p> + +<p>The remaining correction made is indicated by a dotted line under the correction. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Nursery, May 1873, Vol. XIII., by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, MAY 1873 *** + +***** This file should be named 24478-h.htm or 24478-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/4/7/24478/ + +Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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