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Project Gutenberg's The Nursery, July 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 1, by Various

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Title: The Nursery, July 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 1

Author: Various

Release Date: March 29, 2008 [EBook #24938]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NURSERY, JULY 1873, VOL.XIV NO.1 ***




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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.




[Illustration: CONTENTS.]


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

[Illustration]




[Illustration: LOOK OUT FOR THE ENGINE!]




LOOK OUT FOR THE ENGINE!


[Illustration: S]ALLY and Bob were making a bonfire in the woods. They
had come to spend the whole day, and had brought their dinner in a
basket; and Carlo, their little dog, kept watch of it while they
gathered sticks and leaves.

They soon had a large pile heaped up in the middle of the road which led
through the forest. "For," said Bob, "we must make the fire where it
won't do any mischief."

When all was ready, Bob lighted a match, and tucked it under the leaves.
Then, getting down on his knees, he puffed and blew with his mouth,
until first there rose a tiny stream of smoke; then a little flame crept
out; and, in a moment more, the pile was blazing merrily.

The children got some large stones, and sat down on them to warm their
hands; for Sally said her nose and fingers were so cold, she was sure
Jack Frost must be somewhere around. They could not make Carlo come near
the fire: he was afraid of it, it crackled and sputtered so. He liked
better to lie under the bushes near the dinner-basket.

"What a splendid bonfire!" said Bob.

"Yes," said Sally; "but don't you wish we had some nice apples to roast
in the coals?"

Just as she said this, they heard the whistle of a locomotive away in
the distance. "Look out for the engine!" shouted Bob, jumping up. "Let's
run and see the cars go by."

Away they ran down the road, to the edge of the woods, and climbed up on
the fence. By leaning over, they could look far up the track, and watch
the train come thundering down. First only a black speck was in sight;
then the great lantern in front of the locomotive glittered in the sun;
and soon the train was rushing by.

Bob balanced himself on the top rail, and shouted, "Hurrah!" Sally
screamed, "Good-by, good-by!" at the top of her voice; and Carlo
bristled up his hair, and barked loudly, wondering all the time what
this strange creature could be, which made such a racket, and ran faster
than he could.

The people in the cars heard the noise, and looked out to see where it
came from. They saw a boy without his jacket perched on a fence, waving
his hat; a little girl by his side, laughing so hard that she showed all
her teeth; and a funny little yellow dog yelping with all his might:
that was all. But they thought it a pretty picture, and opened the
car-windows to wave their handkerchiefs.

As the last car rushed by, a lady at one of the windows tossed out two
rosy apples. Down jumped Bob and Sally to pick them up. The apples had
fallen in some thick grass, and were not bruised at all. "Just what we
wanted," said Sally; "but, oh, dear! I'm so tired with shouting, that I
don't believe I can eat my apple." She did eat it, though, every bit of
it, except the seeds.

                                                  HENRY BALDWIN.




HOW WILLY COAXED EDITH.


THE children who had "The Nursery" last year will remember the story
called "Kindness is better than Blows," where the bookseller with an
apple coaxed the horse to draw a heavy load up the hill. Little Willy
Gay looked at that picture very carefully, and soon made practical use
of it, as I will tell you.

Willy is very fond of playing horse, but has no brother to play with
him. His sister Edith, three years old, does not like to play horse: she
prefers to be with her dollies. Sometimes Willy gets cross, and scolds
at her because she will not play horse as much as he wants her to.

A few days ago I saw Willy coming up from the cellar with a large red
apple in his hand; and soon after I heard the two children racing
through the rooms, having a merry time; and Willy called out, "O mamma!
I gave Edie an apple, and she _did_ play horse."

You see, he had thought about that story, and made up his mind to try to
coax little sister, as the man did the horse: he soon found that kind
words and deeds were better than scolding.

I hope he will not forget it very soon.

                                                      L. W. GAY.




WORKS OF ART FOR CHILDREN.


I HAVE a little daughter who never returns from a walk in the woods
without bringing a bunch of gay flowers. I have taught her to make of
them many little works of art, which you may also like to learn, dear
reader.

Here is the first. Certainly there must grow in your neighborhood some
larch or spruce trees. If we look sharp, we shall soon find on them a
handsome half-open cone. In the small openings of this cone we stick
delicate flowers and grasses which we find in the meadows and fields.

When our nosegay is ready, we lay the cone with the flowers very
carefully in a dish of water.

After an hour, the cone is so closely shut, that the flowers are held as
fast in its scales as if they had always grown there. This makes a very
nice present.

[Illustration]

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.

[Illustration]




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.


[Illustration]

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.

[Illustration]




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.

[Illustration]




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.

[Illustration]




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.

[Illustration]




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.

[Illustration]




"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 Caesar, 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.

Bravo thought to himself, "It holds to reason, since that little chick
isn't afraid of such a powerful dog as I am, that there must be help
near at hand." And, sure enough, hardly had Bravo thought this, when
from behind some rushes ran out an old hen, followed by four, five, six
chickens; and the old hen, with her feathers all ruffled, went right at
Bravo, while the chicks stood behind sharpening their bills, and getting
ready to join in the battle with their mother.

[Illustration]

Although the most courageous of dogs, it could not be expected that
Bravo would be so foolhardy as to make a stand against such odds. He
paused a moment, with his mouth open, as the terrible old hen came at
him; and then, seeing that the tide of battle was against him, he ran
off as fast as he could to his master's door-step. But, though defeated,
he showed his spirit by keeping up a frightful barking. The old hen and
her chicks, however, were so stupid that they did not mind it much.

Indeed, the old hen, with her family, came up so near to the door-step,
that Bravo was obliged to make a second retreat. This he did with such
success and good general-ship, that he escaped unhurt. Thus ended
Bravo's first battle; and I think you will agree with me, that many a
general with epaulets would not have done any better.

                                                  UNCLE CHARLES.




THE CATCHER CAUGHT.


_First Sparrow_ (the one standing with both wings spread).--Oh, look
here! Come all. See what has happened! Here is old Scratch-claw with his
tail caught fast in the door.

_Second Sparrow._--Where is he? Let me see. Oh, isn't this jolly!
Halloo, Sparrows! Come and see. Come one, come all.

_Third Sparrow._--That's the rascal that killed and ate three of my
little ones.

_Fourth Sparrow._--He came near catching me, the other day. Didn't he
spit viciously when he saw me get out of his way?

_Fifth Sparrow_ (the one on the ground).--How are you, old Sneezer? How
are your folks? Don't you find yourself comfortable?

[Illustration]

_Pussy._--Siss-ss-siss-ss! Mee-ow? mee-ow!

_Fifth Sparrow._--Oh! wouldn't you like to, though? Spit away, old
fellow! It's music to us sparrows.

_Sixth Sparrow._--You are the brute that killed my dear little
Spotted-wing.

_Seventh Sparrow._--He also murdered my precious little Twitterwit.

_Eighth Sparrow._--He is a bad fellow; and it is not surprising he has
come to grief.

_Ninth Sparrow._--Pull away, old boy! Sha'n't we come and help you? I
love you so, I would like a lock of your hair.

_Tenth Sparrow_ (the one on the lowest bough).--Children, hush! It is
not good sparrow morality to jeer at an enemy in affliction,--even a
cat.

_Fifth Sparrow._--O grandfather, you shut up your bill! Just you go
within reach of his claws, and see what cat-gratitude is.

_Tenth Sparrow._--My children, we must not exult over the pains even of
an enemy. A cat has feelings.

_Pussy._--Siss-hiss-hoo! Mee-ow! Fitt! Fitt!

_Fifth Sparrow._--What a lovely voice!

_Sixth Sparrow._--The expression of his face, too, how charming!

_Tenth Sparrow._--Fly back, all of you, to your bushes and trees; for
here comes a little boy who will see that Pussy is rescued.

_First Sparrow._--Well, I wouldn't have missed this spectacle for a good
deal.

_Fifth Sparrow._--It is better than Barnum's exhibition any day.

_First Sparrow._--Yes, and it costs us nothing.

_Tenth Sparrow._--There! Fly away, all of you! Fly away! You have said
enough. I am ashamed of you all. You ought to know better than to be
revengful. You are quite as bad as boys and men.

_Fifth Sparrow._--Grandfather is getting to be abusive. Let us fly off.
Good-by, Pussy! Pull away!

                                                  ALFRED SELWYN.




THE BIRDS AND THE POND-LILY.


[Illustration]

        FOUR little birds came out to greet
        The first pond-lily, so fair and sweet,
        The first that opened its petals white
        To the wooing breeze and the golden light.
        They flew around, then sat on the tree,
        And sang, "You are sweet as sweet can be:
        O dear Pond-lily! we do not jest:
        Now, which of us all do you love best?"
        Pond-lily spoke not, but, instead,
        Dipped in the water her beautiful head,
        As much as to say, "I'm well content
        In this my own pure element."
        The birds they sang in their very best style,
        But got no answer, not even a smile;
        For Pond-lily knew it was safest and best
        To keep where she was, on the wave's cool breast,
        And never to listen to flattering words
        From idle suitors and wandering birds.

                                                   EMILY CARTER.




EDWIN'S DOVES.


[Illustration]

EDWIN has two doves. They were given to him by his uncle. He has a nice
little house for them. There are two doors in it, where they go in and
out. In front of the doors there is a shelf, on which they perch.

[Illustration]

The doves are free to go where they please; but they always come home at
night. They are quite tame. Sometimes they fly up to Edwin's window, and
light on the sill. They tap on the pane to let him know they are
hungry.

[Illustration]

Then he opens the window, and feeds them. He gives them corn, crumbs of
bread, and sometimes oats. They like the corn best. One of them is
rather apt to be greedy; and both get so much to eat that they are very
plump and fat.

Here are the doves looking at the turkeys. They do not know what to make
of such birds.

                                                        W. O. C.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]




THE LITTLE FORTUNE-SEEKERS.


YOUNG as Alan was, he had heard from his uncle Paul many a story about
people seeking their fortune: so, one fine summer day, he set off with
his brother Owen and his sister Amy a-fortune-seeking. Alan carried a
stick; and Amy had a little basket on her arm.

Alan led the way, telling Owen and Amy to keep close to him, and to fear
nothing. As they passed by Lakin's pond, a duck gave a loud quack; when
they came to the great ash-tree, a bee buzzed by them: but neither the
quacking nor the buzzing frightened the bold Alan; and on he went,
holding up his stick.

They had almost reached the sawyer's cottage, when a black animal ran
out towards them. Alan asked if he should attack the tiger? Owen would
have it that it was only a puppy dog: but Alan said that did not matter;
for it had four legs and a head and a tail, and so had a tiger. Owen
thought he had better let it alone; and Amy tamed the tiger at once by
giving it a bit of bread from her basket.

Suddenly they came to a spot where five or six geese and a few goslings
were waddling about. The gander came towards them, stretching out his
neck, and hissing loudly. Owen and Amy ran back, followed by Alan, who
told them, that, if he had hit the gander with his stick, he would have
frightened the goslings.

[Illustration]

As there was a stile near, leading into a field, they all got over the
stile, and thus passed the geese.

"I wonder how that gander would like it," said Alan, "if I were to turn
back, and lay hold of him by his long neck, and shake him?" Amy begged
of him by no means to think of such a thing; and so Alan told her that
he would not. Little did the gander know of his narrow escape!

Ah, me! what perils await those who go on their travels to seek their
fortunes! A little brook was now before them; and Alan said, "This river
must be crossed, and I hope that none of us will be carried away by the
current. What we shall do if an Indian springs from behind the bushes,
or a crocodile comes out of the sedge, I don't know. Here is the
narrowest part of the river. I will lay my stick across it; and, if we
make believe very much, it will do for a bridge."

"But I can't walk along your stick," said Amy. "Never mind that," said
Alan: "a bridge is a bridge, whether we walk along it or not." So Alan
laid his stick across the narrow part, and then jumped over the brook,
followed by Owen and Amy. No Indian sprang from the bush, no crocodile
came out of the sedge; and the river was crossed without one of them
being drowned.

All at once it came into Alan's head that Uncle Paul had once been
attacked by a wolf, and that they ought to have an adventure of the same
kind: he therefore asked Owen if he would consent to be eaten up by a
wolf. Owen said he did not like it: he thought Alan ought to be eaten,
for he was the biggest. Alan said that would never do; for then there
would be nobody to care for him and Amy.

But, besides this difficulty, there was another: they had no wolf; and,
where to get one, they did not know. At last it was settled. Owen was to
be the wolf, and to spring on Amy; but before he had eaten her up, or
even so much as snapped off her little finger, Alan was to rush upon him
with his stick, and drive him back into the woods.

Amy was now left alone, that Owen might get behind one bush, and Alan
behind another. No sooner was this done, than, with her basket on her
arm, she went on her journey.

And now Amy was almost come to the bush behind which Owen was crouching.
For a moment she made a stop, as though she hardly durst go by; but at
last she went on. Suddenly the wolf leaped out, and caught hold of her.

What was poor Amy to do? Well was it for her that Alan happened to come
up. Many people are frightened at wolves; but Alan did not seem
frightened at all.

It was a hard struggle; for the wolf pulled poor Amy one way, and Alan
pulled her the other; but at length Alan won the day. "Shall I kill the
wolf, Amy?" cried he, lifting up his stick. "No, no!" cried Amy: "he has
not hurt me a bit. He is not a real wolf, but only my brother Owen."

[Illustration]

The affair of the wolf having passed off so well, Alan began to bethink
himself of other adventures. So much had he heard from Uncle Paul about
Indians, that his heart was set on going among them.

Both Owen and Amy wondered where he would find the Indians; but Alan
said, "That thicket yonder is quite as likely a place to find them in as
any that I know."

"We have not seen one yet," said Owen. "No," replied Alan: "Indians
always get behind the trees." This made Owen and Amy look about them, as
if they feared every tree had an Indian behind it.

Alan set off for the thicket, while Owen and Amy sat down to talk over
their travels; but it was not long before Alan again joined them.
Whether the Indians were absent on some expedition, or whatever else
might be the cause, certain it was that Alan had found no Indians. He
had, however, torn the leg of one of his stockings: so he asked Amy to
bind up his wounds.

"But you have not hurt your leg," said Amy: "you have only torn a hole
in your stocking."

[Illustration]

"Never mind that!" replied Alan. "We are out on our travels, seeking our
fortunes, and must make the most of every thing. Bind up my wounded
leg."

Little Amy tied up his leg with his handkerchief; and, considering that
she had never bound up a wound before, it did her great credit.

It is due to Alan to say that the misfortune of his wounded leg by no
means cooled his courage. "What is the use," said he, "of complaining?
Those who go to seek their fortunes must learn to bear pain."

One of Alan's plans was to find a treasure; and, as they had neither
spade nor pickaxe with them to dig for gold, he thought the best way
would be for them to find a bag of money. Amy said, if they found a bag
of money, she should like to take Dolly some. This being generously
agreed to by Alan and Owen, they proceeded with their plan.

Alan took Amy's handkerchief, and tied up some grass in it. He then told
Owen to go on a little way and drop it; and this Owen did. "Hi!" cried
Alan, when he came up to the spot: "what have we here? Who would have
thought that a merchant would have dropped a bag of money in such a
place as this?"

All at once Owen and Amy bethought themselves that they had no right to
the gold, as it belonged to the merchant who had lost it; but Alan met
this objection by saying that they could easily inquire for the merchant
as they went along, and give up the money if they found him. Thus
pacified, Owen and Amy allowed Alan to lift the heavy bag of money into
the basket: this he seemed to do with great difficulty.

But how was the basket to be carried with so heavy a weight in it? Said
Alan, "Where there is a will, there is a way." A stick was procured, and
passed through the handle of the basket, one end of it resting on Owen's
shoulder, and the other end on the shoulder of Amy.

Alan with his leg tied up, leaning on his stick for support, hobbled
onward; and Owen and Amy appeared to toil with might and main, bending
under their load.

They had almost come to the turn by the birch-trees, when suddenly Dash,
their own favorite dog, came barking joyfully towards them. At that very
moment their parents were waiting for them with the pony-chaise at the
end of the lane.

No sooner did our little fortune-seekers set eyes on the pony-chaise
than off they set in a scamper, strangely forgetful of what had passed.
It was wonderful to see how nimble Alan was in spite of his wounded leg;
and with what ease Owen and Amy ran along with that heavy load of gold,
which before had well-nigh weighed them down to the ground.




THE LITTLE STEPMOTHER.


THE little stepmother, with her blue eyes and rosy cheeks, sat in the
yard, surrounded by her pets, and busily paring some apples.

From heaven blew the morning wind, and greeted the lovely child: "Little
stepmother, I will by thee remain: I will make the time pass merrily for
thee, and cool thy red cheeks. Dost thou not hear?"

A sparrow sat before her on the bench, and twittered: "This is _my_
place; my stomach is empty. Little stepmother, I am very hungry. I beg
thee to give me some breakfast. Dost thou not hear?"

The dove swelled with anger, and said, "Go away, thou vagabond, thou
beggar sparrow, thou glutton!--Little stepmother, I politely ask thee
only for a sip of water. Dost thou not hear?"

The cat sat lost in thought, opening and shutting her eyes. "Little
stepmother," said the cat, "my stomach, too, is empty. Go thou for some
meat, or else look out that no harm comes to thy dear birds in the yard.
Dost thou not hear?"

[Illustration]

The little stepmother laughed, and said, "Be not so impatient! I must
first make a dish of apple-sauce for the seven and seventy guests who
are coming to my wedding-feast. When they are all assembled, then shall
the morning wind play for the dance. You, beloved birds, shall be my
bridesmaids, and the cat shall be the bride's father."




[Illustration: Music]


A SUMMER DAY.

Words by GEO. COOPER.

Music by T. CRAMPTON.

        VOICE
        AND
        PIANO.

        1.
        This is the way the morning dawns;
          Rosy tints on flowers and trees,
          Winds that wake the birds and bees,
        Dewdrops on the fields and lawns,--
        This is the way the morning dawns.

        2.
        This is the way the sun comes up:
          Gold on brooks and glossy leaves,
          Mist that melts above the sheaves,
        Vine and rose and buttercup,--
        This is the way the sun comes up.

        3.
        This is the way the birdie sings:
          "Baby birdies in the nest,
          You I surely love the best;
        Over you I fold my wings,"--
        This is the way the birdie sings.

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Note:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

This issue was part of an omnibus. The original table of contents
covered the entire second half of 1873. The remaining text of the table
of contents can be found in the rest of the year's issues.





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