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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:15:02 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:15:02 -0700 |
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diff --git a/24940-h/24940-h.htm b/24940-h/24940-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a1432db --- /dev/null +++ b/24940-h/24940-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1679 @@ +<!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, September 1873, Vol. XIV., 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;} +table.sleep {width: 431px; text-align: center; background-image: + url("images/illus079.png"); background-repeat: no-repeat;} + 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;} + .poem2 {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + .hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Nursery, September 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 3, 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, September 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 3 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: March 29, 2008 [EBook #24940] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NURSERY, SEPT. 1873, VOL.XIV NO.3 *** + + + + +Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net Music +by Linda Cantoni. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<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 XIV.—No. 3<br /> + +<br /><br /> +BOSTON:<br /> +JOHN L. SHOREY, No. 36, BROMFIELD STREET.<br /> +1873.<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='center'> +<small>Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by</small><br /> +<small> JOHN L. SHOREY,</small><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></span><br /> +<small><span class="smcap">Stereotyped and Printed by Rand, Avery, & Co.</span></small><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'>The Queer Things that happened to Nelly</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Six Ducks</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Bunch of Grapes</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A True Story about a Dog</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Pitcher-Plants and Monkey-Pots</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Under the Cherry-Tree</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Rambles in the Woods</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>What I Saw at the Seashore</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Blossom and I</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>How Norman became an Artist</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Boot-Race under Difficulties</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Pictures for Walter</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Fisherman's Children</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><br />IN VERSE.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='center'><small>PAGE.</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Rose's Song</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Little Tease</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sleeping in the Sunshine</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Young Lazy-Bones (<i>with music</i>)</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/illus004.png" width="200" height="105" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" /> +</div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 281px;"> +<img src="images/illus065.jpg" width="281" height="400" alt="THE QUEER THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO NELLY." title="THE QUEER THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO NELLY." /> +<span class="caption">THE QUEER THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO NELLY.</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>THE QUEER THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO NELLY.</h2> + + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 136px;"> +<img src="images/n.png" width="136" height="150" alt="N" title="N" /> +</div><div class='unindent'><br />ELLY BURTON had been weeding in the garden +nearly all the summer forenoon; and she +was quite tired out. "Oh, if I could only be +dressed up in fine clothes, and not have to +work!" thought she.</div> + +<p>No sooner had the thought passed through her mind, than, +as she looked down on the closely-mown grass by the edge +of the pond, she saw the queerest sight that child ever +beheld.</p> + +<p>A carriage, the body of which was made of the half of a +large walnut-shell, brightly gilt, was moving along, dragged +by six beetles with backs glistening with all the colors of +the rainbow.</p> + +<p>Seated in the carriage, and carrying a wand, was a young +lady not larger than a child's little finger, but so beautiful +that no humming-bird could equal her in beauty. She had +the bluest of blue eyes, and yellow crinkled hair that shone +like gold.</p> + +<p>She stopped her team of beetles, and, standing upright, +said to Nelly, "Listen to me. My name is Pitpat; and I am +a fairy. I see how tired you are with work. Your father, +though a good man, is a blacksmith; and there is often a +smirch on his face when he stoops to kiss you. Your mother +wears calico dresses, and doesn't fix her hair with false +braids and waterfalls. Would you not like to be the daughter +of a king and queen, and live in a palace?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, you beautiful Pitpat! I would like that ever so +much!" exclaimed Nelly. "Then I should be a princess, +and have nothing to do but amuse myself all day."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Take the end of my wand, and touch your eyes with it," +said the little fairy.</p> + +<p>Nelly obeyed; and in a moment, before she could wink, +she found herself in a beautiful room, with mirrors reaching +from the ceiling to the floor. By these she saw that she +was no longer clad in an old dingy dress, nor were her feet +bare; but she had on a beautiful skirt of light-blue velvet, +and a bodice of the most costly lace, trimmed with ribbons; +while diamonds were in her hair, and a pair of gold slippers +on her feet.</p> + +<p>Servants were in attendance on her, one of whom said, +"May it please your Highness, his Majesty, your royal +father, is coming." Nelly's heart fluttered. The door opened, +and, preceded by two or three lackeys, a pompous old gentleman +entered, clad in rich robes, a golden crown on his +head, and no smirch on his face.</p> + +<p>But, dear me, instead of catching her up in his arms, and +calling her his own precious little Nelly, his Majesty simply +gave her his hand to kiss, and passed on.</p> + +<p>The queen followed in his steps. Her hair was done up +in a tower of top-knots and waterfalls; and there was drapery +enough on the back of her dress to astonish an upholsterer. +Instead of calling Nelly "her darling," as Nelly's first +mother used to do, the queen merely said, as she swept by, +"Where are your manners, child?" for you must know +that poor Nelly had forgotten to courtesy.</p> + +<p>Nelly put her face in her hands, and began to cry. "Oh, +you cruel Pitpat!" said she, "why did you tempt me? Oh! +give me back my own dear mother in her calico dress, my +own dear father with the smirch on his face, my doll Angelica, +my black-and-white kitten Dainty, and my own dear, +dear home beside the lovely pond where the air is so sweet +and the bushes are so green."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Take the end of my wand again, and touch your eyes +with it," said the voice of Pitpat. And there on the carpet, +in her little gilded carriage, stood the fairy once more with +her wand held out. Nelly seized it eagerly, and touched +her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why, Dainty, what are you about?" said Nelly, as she +felt the kitten's head against her arm; and then, opening +her eyes, she started to find herself in the old wood-shed, +seated with her back against the door, Angelica in her lap, +and the soft breeze from the pond fanning her cheek and +bosom. She looked at her feet. Ah! the golden slippers +had disappeared. "Dear me! I must have been dreaming," +said Nelly.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Ida Fay.</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>ROSE'S SONG.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So it's hush-a-by, baby,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Hush-a-by now,</span><br /> +Mamma's gone to buy something good;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And she will not forget</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Her own darling pet,</span><br /> +But will buy her a bonny blue hood:<br /> +Yes, she'll buy her a bonny blue hood.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Oh! she will not forget</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Her own baby pet,</span><br /> +But will buy her a bonny blue hood.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Then it's crow away, baby,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Crow away, sweet,</span><br /> +Papa he is coming to-night;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And he'll bring home a kiss,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Like <i>this</i> and like <i>this</i>,</span><br /> +For his sweet little Minnie so bright,<br /> +For his dear little Minnie so bright.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Oh! he's many a kiss,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Like <i>this</i> and like <i>this</i>,</span><br /> +For his sweet little Minnie to-night.<br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Geo. 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> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +</p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/illus069.png" width="350" height="348" alt="Six Ducks" title="Six Ducks" /> +</div> + + + + +<h2>THE SIX DUCKS.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the pond near Emily's house six tame ducks used to +have a fine time swimming about, except in winter, when +the pond was frozen. Emily had a name for each one of +them. They used to run to her when she called; for they +knew she loved them all, and would treat them well.</p> + +<p>Among these six happy ducks there was a white one +that was at one time of his life a wild duck. Emily named +him <i>Albus</i>; for <i>albus</i> is Latin for <i>white</i>. I will tell you how +Albus happened to become tamed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> + +<p>He was once on his way to the South with a large flock +of his wild companions, when, as they were alighting near +a creek, Albus was shot in the wing by Dick Barker, a +sportsman who was out gunning. Dick ran with his dog +Spot to pick up the poor wounded bird; but Albus was not +so much hurt that he could not fly a little.</p> + +<p>He flew and flew till he came to Emily's little garden; +and then he fell at her feet, faint, but not dead, as if pleading +for protection. Emily took him up in her arms, though +she soiled her apron with blood in so doing. Dick and Spot +came up; and Dick said roughly, "Give me up that duck."</p> + +<p>"The duck has flown to my feet for protection; and I +would be shot myself before I would betray him and give +him up," said Emily. "I shall keep him, and heal his +wounds."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dick Barker scolded wildly; but it was of no use. +He had to go off duckless. As for Albus, he soon grew well +under Emily's tender care; but his wing was not as strong +as it used to be: so he concluded he would become a tame +bird, and not try to fly off again with his wild companions. +He had a happy home, a kind mistress, and pleasant duck +acquaintances. So, like a good sensible waddler, he was +content.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Emily Carter.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/illus070.png" width="200" height="128" alt="Decoration" title="Decoration" /> +</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_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus071.png" width="300" height="269" alt="The Bunch of Grapes" title="The Bunch of Grapes" /> +</div> +<h2>THE BUNCH OF GRAPES.</h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">I am</span> thinking what I shall do with this beautiful bunch +of grapes," said Reka Lane as she sat on the bench near +the arbor. Her real name was Rebecca; but they called +her, for shortness, Reka.</p> + +<p>"I know what I should do with it," said little Matilda, +who had been wading in the brook, and was without shoes +and stockings. "I should divide it among the present company."</p> + +<p>"Good for Matty!" exclaimed brother Henry. "The +best use you can put grapes to is to eat them before they +spoil. Come, Reka, divide, divide."</p> + +<p>"I am not sure that I shall do that," said Reka.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Look at that queer dog!" said Matty. "He has crept +under the shawl on the ground, and looks like a head with +no body to it."</p> + +<p>"That shawl was left there the other day by old Mrs. +Merton," said Reka. "The dog is her son's terrier; and his +name is Beauty."</p> + +<p>"He is any thing but a beauty," said Matty. "I think +him the ugliest dog I ever saw."</p> + +<p>"I suppose they call him Beauty to make up for the bad +word he gets from every one as being ugly," said Reka. +"He is a good dog, nevertheless; and he knows that shawl +belongs to his mistress.—Don't you, Beauty?"</p> + +<p>Here Beauty tore out from under the shawl, and began +barking in a very intelligent manner.</p> + +<p>"Now I will tell you what we will do," said Reka. "Put +on your shoes and stockings, Matty, and we will all go and +call on Mrs. Merton, who is ill; and we'll take back her +shawl, and give her this beautiful bunch of grapes."</p> + +<p>"Bow, wow, wow!" cried Beauty, jumping up, and trying +to lick Reka's face.</p> + +<p>When the children left Mrs. Merton's, after they had presented +the grapes, Henry Lane made this remark, "I'll +tell you what it is, girls, to see that old lady so pleased +by our attention gave me more pleasure than a big feast on +grapes, ice-creams, and sponge-cake, with lemonade thrown +in."</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Dora Burnside.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 164px;"> +<img src="images/illus072.png" width="164" height="200" alt="Grapes" title="Grapes" /> +</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_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 272px;"> +<img src="images/illus073.png" width="272" height="300" alt="A true story about a dog" title="A true story about a dog" /> +</div> +<h2>A TRUE STORY ABOUT A DOG.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">I am</span> a middle-aged gentleman who is blessed with only +one child, a little girl now nearly six years old. Her name +is Fanny; and her cousin Gracie, who is about the same +age, lives with us.</p> + +<p>Both of these little girls are very fond of having me tell +them stories; and I have often told them about a dog I once +had. They liked this story so much, that they made me +promise I would send it to "The Nursery," so that a great +many little girls and boys might hear it also. This is the +story:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>When I was a little boy, not more than eight years old, my mother consented +to my having a dog which a friend offered to give me. He was a +little pup then, not more than five weeks old. I fed him on milk for +a while, and he grew very fast. I named him Cæsar.</p> + +<p>When he got to be six months old, he became very mischievous. Things +were constantly being missed from the house. Handkerchiefs, slippers, +shoes, towels, aprons, and napkins disappeared; and no one could tell what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +became of them. One day Cæsar was seen going into the garden with a +slipper in his mouth; and I followed him to a far-off corner where stood +a large currant-bush.</p> + +<p>I looked under the bush, and saw Cæsar digging a hole, into which he +put the slipper, and then covered it up with earth. Upon digging under +this bush, I found all the things that had been missed.</p> + +<p>A neighbor's dog, called "Dr. Wiseman," was Cæsar's particular +friend. One day we heard a loud scratching at the front-door; and, when +we opened it, in walked Cæsar and Dr. Wiseman. Cæsar took the +Doctor by the ear, and led him up to each of the family, just as if he were +introducing him, and then led him into the garden, and treated him to a +bone.</p> + +<p>Although Cæsar did many naughty things, we all loved him; for he +was quite affectionate as well as intelligent: but our neighbors complained +of him because he chased their chickens, bit their pigs, and scared their +horses. A farmer who came to our house one day with a load of potatoes +took a great fancy to him. He wanted him for a watch-dog on his farm, +which was only four miles from our house.</p> + +<p>As he promised to treat him kindly, my mother thought it was best to +let him have the dog; and I finally consented, although I believe I cried +a good deal about it.</p> + +<p>So Cæsar was put into the farmer's wagon, much against his will; and +off he went into the country. About three months afterwards, when there +was a foot of snow on the ground, there came a great scratching at the front-door +of our house, early in the morning, before I was up; and, when the +servant opened the door, in bounded Cæsar with a rope around his neck, +and a large chunk of wood fastened to the other end of it.</p> + +<p>He ran by the servant, and up the stairs, with the piece of wood going +bump, bump, all the way, dashed into my room, jumped right up on my +bed, and began licking my face.</p> + +<p>I was very glad to see my dog again. He staid with us several days; +and, when the farmer came for him, he lay down on the floor, closed his +eyes, and pretended to be dead; but the farmer took him back to the farm +in his wagon.</p> + +<p>About a year and a half after that, when I came home for a vacation, we +all went up to the farm, hoping to see Cæsar; but we never saw him again. +The farmer had shot him, because he killed the chickens, and chased the +sheep, and would not mind any thing that was said to him. Thus you +see, children, that Cæsar came to a bad end, although he had every +advantage of good society in his early youth.</p></div> + +<div class='center'><span class="smcap">Lansingburgh, N.Y.</span> + + +<span class="smcap">C. R. W.</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_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus075.png" width="300" height="225" alt="A Little Tease" title="A Little Tease" /> +</div> + +<h2>A LITTLE TEASE.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'><span class="smcap">I know</span> a little fellow<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who is such a wilful tease,</span><br /> +That, when he's not in mischief,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He is never at his ease:</span><br /> +He dearly loves to frolic,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And to play untimely jokes</span><br /> +Upon his little sister,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And upon the older folks.</span><br /> +<br /> +He rings the bell for Sarah,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And then slyly runs away;</span><br /> +And tries to make a fool of her<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A dozen times a day:</span><br /> +He hides away in corners,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To spring suddenly in sight;</span><br /> +And laughs, oh! very heartily,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see her jump with fright.</span><br /> +<br /> +When kitty's lying quiet,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And curled up warm and snug,</span><br /> +This little fellow always feels<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like giving her a hug;</span><br /> +And kitty from his fond embrace<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would surely never flinch,</span><br /> +Did she not know the little tease<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would give her many a pinch.</span><br /> +<br /> +But this provoking fellow<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has a very curious way</span><br /> +Of feeling rather hurt at tricks<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That other people play,—</span><br /> +Just like some older jokers,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who laugh at fun they make,</span><br /> +But never can enjoy the fun<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of jokes they have to take.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Josephine Pollard</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_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> +<h2>PITCHER-PLANTS AND MONKEY-POTS.</h2> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 205px;"> +<img src="images/illus076.png" width="205" height="250" alt="Pitcher-Plant" title="Pitcher-Plant" /> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Pitcher-plants</span> are so called, because, at +the end of the leaves, the midrib which runs +through them is formed into a cup shape; and +in some it looks very like a pitcher or water-jug +You will understand this better if you +look at the drawing.</p> + +<p>There are various kinds of pitcher-plants. Some are +shorter and broader than others; but they are all green like +true leaves, and hold water as securely as a jug or glass. +They grow in Borneo and Sumatra, hot islands in the East. +The one shown in the drawing grows in Ceylon.</p> + +<p>Some grow in America; but they are altogether different +from those in Borneo and Ceylon. One beautiful little +pitcher-plant grows in Australia: but this is also very different +from all the rest; for the pitchers, instead of being at +the end of the leaves, are clustered round the bottom of the +plant, close to the ground.</p> + +<p>All these pitcher-plants, though very beautiful to look at, +are very cruel enemies to insects: for the pitchers nearly +always have water in them; and flies and small insects are +constantly falling into them, and getting drowned.</p> + +<p>Monkey-pots are hard, woody fruits; some as large and +round as a cannon-ball, and some shaped like a bowl. They +grow on large trees in Brazil and other parts of South +America; and the natives take out the seeds, and use the +fruits for holding water, or to wash themselves in.</p> + +<p>They are called monkey-pots because monkeys are very +fond of the seeds. Some of the seeds are so good, that they +are collected, and sent to London and other places, where +they are sold in the markets. The Brazil-nut is one of +them.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +J. R. J.<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_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus077.png" width="300" height="300" alt="Under the Cherry Tree" title="Under the Cherry Tree" /> +</div> +<h2>UNDER THE CHERRY-TREE.</h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Now</span> is the time to pick the cherries!" shouted Charles +as he came running in from the garden one July afternoon.</p> + +<p>"Are they quite ripe?" said his mother.</p> + +<p>"Ripe? I should think so. Just look at them!" answered +Charles, pointing to the trees.</p> + +<p>"O mamma!" said Mary, "the birds are getting them +all. We must have them picked at once."</p> + +<p>"Never fear, little girl," said her mother. "There will +be enough for the birds and ourselves and our neighbors +too. But it really is time to begin to pick them. So,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +Charles, get a basket, and we will all go out under the +cherry-tree."</p> + +<p>So out they all went,—Charles and Mary and Ellen +and Julia and Ruth; and mamma followed with the baby.</p> + +<p>"I told the gardener to bring a ladder," said mamma. +"He will be here in a moment, Charles. You can't pick +cherries without a ladder, you know."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said that saucy boy. "Nobody can pick +cherries without a ladder." And with that he gave a spring, +and in about half a minute had climbed up into the tree.</p> + +<p>"Now, girls, hold your aprons," said he. And down came +a shower of the delicious fruit.</p> + +<p>Then what a glorious scramble those little girls had! +How they laughed and jumped and knocked heads together +in picking up the cherries! They ate as many as they +wanted; and still Charles kept throwing down more.</p> + +<p>"Have you had enough?" said he. "So have I. Now +it's time to think about filling the basket. Ah! here comes +the ladder at last, with a man under it."</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Uncle Sam.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 184px;"> +<img src="images/illus078.png" width="184" height="250" alt="Man with a ladder" title="Man with a ladder" /> +</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_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> + +<div class='center'> <table class="sleep" summary="Sleeping in the Sunshine"> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<div><span style="margin-left: 4em;"><b><big>SLEEPING IN THE SUNSHINE.</big></b></span><br /><br /></div> + + +<span style="margin-left: 6em;"><span class="smcap">Sleeping</span> in the sunshine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Fie, fie, fie!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">While the birds are soaring</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">High, high, high!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">While the buds are opening sweet,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">And the blossoms at your feet</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Look a smiling face to greet.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Fie, fie, fie!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Sleeping in the sunshine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Fie, fie, fie!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">While the bee goes humming</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">By, by, by!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Is there no small task for you,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Nought for little hands to do?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Shame to sleep the morning through!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Fie, fie, fie!</span><br /> +<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><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> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> +<h2>RAMBLES IN THE WOODS.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> has been used to a life in the city, but she is +now on a visit to her uncle's in the country; and she has +fine times rambling through the woods and fields.</p> + +<p>Her cousin Paul takes her to pick berries, and tells her +the names of the things she sees. "Smell of these leaves," +Paul will say, breaking a twig from a shrub, somewhat like +a huckleberry-bush, and crushing the leaves in his hand. +"This is the bayberry-shrub. How fragrant the leaves are! +It bears a berry with a gray wax-like coating; and in Nova +Scotia this wax is much used instead of tallow, or mixed +with tallow, to make candles."</p> + +<p>"But what is this little red berry on the ground?" asked +Rachel once when they were on one of their rambles. "It +has a dark glossy leaf; and I like the taste and the smell +of it very much."</p> + +<p>"That is the checkerberry," said Paul. "Some people +call it the boxberry; and some call it wintergreen. It has a +flavor like that of the black birch. It is used to scent soap, +and sometimes to flavor candy. It is an evergreen plant."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 276px;"> +<img src="images/illus081.png" width="276" height="400" alt="RAMBLES IN THE WOODS." title="RAMBLES IN THE WOODS." /> +<span class="caption">RAMBLES IN THE WOODS.</span> +</div><p>"What do you mean by an evergreen?" asked Rachel.</p> + +<p>"I mean, it is green the whole year round: it does not +dry up and fall off, like the leaves of the strawberry-plant," +said Paul.</p> + +<p>"What other sweet-smelling plants are there about +here?" asked Rachel.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever taste the bark of the sassafras-tree?" +asked Paul. "If not, here is one; and I will break off a twig +for you to chew. The color of the inner bark, near the root, +is red, like cinnamon. A beer is made from it; and it is also +used in soaps."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I like the odor of it very much," said Rachel.</p> + +<p>"Here is a black-birch tree," cried Paul. "Some people +call it the sweet-birch. I will cut off a piece of the bark +for you to taste."</p> + +<p>"Why, it tastes like checkerberry-leaves," said Rachel.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Paul. "It is a beautiful tree, and is good +for fuel. But here is a white-birch. See how white the bark +is! It grows on poor land, and is a very pretty tree when +well taken care of."</p> + +<p>Here there was the sound of a horn; and Rachel asked, +"What is the meaning of that sound?"</p> + +<p>"It means that we must run home to dinner," said Paul. +"So give me your hand, Cousin Rachel. You need not be +afraid of snakes. There are none here that can do any +harm. Come, we will make a short cut through the grove +to the house."</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> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus082.png" width="400" height="99" alt="What I Saw at the Seashore" title="What I Saw at the Seashore" /> +</div> + +<h2>WHAT I SAW AT THE SEASHORE.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Last</span> summer I went to spend a few weeks at a quiet +little island on the New-England coast. Every morning I +used to go to the beach, and sit on the sands, and watch the +blue sea with its sparkling waves, and listen to the surf +breaking in white foam all along the shore.</p> + +<p>On pleasant days the beach was lively with bathers, shouting +and laughing as they plunged into the cool waves; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +little boys and girls playing in the clean sand, digging with +their shovels, and loading and unloading their wagons, or +picking up shells and sea-mosses to carry home.</p> + +<p>On the brightest days of all, I noticed a pale-faced lady +who came to sit a while in the sunshine, propped up with +shawls and pillows. She always brought with her a little +sky-terrier, of which she seemed as fond as if it had been a +real baby.</p> + +<p>After a while, I got acquainted with the invalid lady, and +found that her name was Miss Dean, and that her dog +was named Skye. He was a shaggy-looking little creature; +but he had very bright eyes, and he knew almost as much +as the children who played with him. He was very fond of +his mistress, and very thoughtful of her comfort.</p> + +<p>Let me tell you one thing about him that made me think +so. Skye slept in the room with his mistress, on a soft +cushion, with a little blanket spread over him; and in the +morning, when he woke, if she was still asleep, he never +disturbed her. He just sat up on his cushion as still as he +could be, and watched her till she woke. As soon as she +opened her eyes, he gave a little bark, for "good-morning," +and sprang up on her bed, to be loved and petted.</p> + +<p>Well, Skye was a good little dog; and we all learned to +love him; and none of us would have hurt him for the world. +But one day, as we were walking up from the beach, ladies +and gentlemen and children and all, Skye ran down a lane, +out of sight; and a thoughtless, wicked boy, who had a stone +in his hand, and wanted to hit something with it, threw it +with all his might at poor Skye, and broke one of his legs.</p> + +<p>Skye cried out with the pain; and we all hurried back to +see what was the matter. There we found him, whining +and howling, and trying to limp along on three legs; and we +just caught sight of the bad boy, running away far down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +the lane. Miss Dean picked up her poor little darling, and +carried him home.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 213px;"> +<img src="images/illus084.png" width="213" height="275" alt="Doctor setting Skye's leg" title="Doctor setting Skye's leg" /> +</div> + +<p>Now, it happened that +there was a very skilful surgeon +staying at the hotel, +who had come down to the +island for a short vacation. +Miss Dean sent for him, +and begged him to set poor +Skye's broken leg. He was +a kind-hearted man, and +I could not refuse to use his +skill to relieve the dumb +little sufferer.</p> + +<p>So Miss Dean took Skye +on her lap, and stroked him +gently, and talked lovingly +to him, calling him "Poor +doggy!" and "Dear Skye," while the doctor made the +splints, and pressed the broken bones back into their place. +Then the doctor sent for some plaster of Paris, and made a +soft mortar of it, and put it all around the mended leg, and +let it harden into a little case, so that the bones would have +to stay just as he put them till they grew together again.</p> + +<p>All the time the doctor was doing this, Skye kept as still +as a mouse; but, when it was all done, the little creature +laid his head on Miss Dean's shoulder, and cried great tears, +just like a child. Miss Dean had to cry, too, at the helplessness +of her poor dumb darling.</p> + +<p>For a good many weeks, Skye could only hobble about on +three legs, and had to keep still on his cushion, or lie on his +mistress' lap, most of the time; but he was very patient. +And at last, when the good doctor said it would do to remove<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +the plaster and the splints, we did so; and Skye ran +around the room as well and lively as ever. Wasn't he +glad to have his liberty again!</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Muz-Muz</span>.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 187px;"> +<img src="images/illus085a.png" width="187" height="200" alt="Skye" title="Skye" /> +</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>BLOSSOM AND I.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">I will</span> tell you a true story about my sister and me. I am +five years old, and Fanny (papa calls her Blossom) is three.</p> + +<p>We are in Germany now, but our home is in America; +and, when I go out to play with the boys here, they call me +"America." We came over the ocean in a big ship. Papa +and mamma were seasick; but Fanny and I were not, and +we liked to live on the water.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 264px;"> +<img src="images/illus085b.png" width="264" height="250" alt="Mamma packing the trunks" title="Mamma packing the trunks" /> +</div> + +<p>When mamma packed our +trunks, I wanted her to put +in my little pails and wheelbarrow; +and she said there +wasn't room, but that we could +bring as many numbers of +"The Nursery" as we pleased. +So we brought all we had.</p> + +<p>We have used them so +much, that papa says they +are not fit to be bound; but +I don't want to put them away on a shelf to be kept nice. I +like to have them every day; and so does Fanny.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + +<p>When we were coming on the steamer, Fanny used to sit +in the captain's lap, and tell him the stories.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/illus086a.png" width="350" height="265" alt="Fanny on the captain's lap" title="Fanny on the captain's lap" /> +</div> + +<p>Our auntie sends us a new "Nursery" every month. One +was lost, and we were very sorry; for we can't read other +picture-books so well. Fanny always has a "Nursery" to +take to bed with her; and in the morning, when I wake up, +I hear her talking to the boys and girls in the pictures.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">C</span>.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/illus086b.png" width="250" height="212" alt="Fanny asleep" title="Fanny asleep" /> +</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_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/illus087.png" width="350" height="340" alt="How Norman became an artist" title="How Norman became an artist" /> +</div> + +<h2>HOW NORMAN BECAME AN ARTIST.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> landscape-painter sat on a camp-stool with an umbrella +over his head. His palette and his box of paints +were on the ground by his side. He was there to draw a +picture of the village of F——.</p> + +<p>Hardly had he begun his crayon outline when he heard a +boy's voice behind him. "May I look on? sir?" said the +boy. "Yes, look as much as you please, but don't talk," +said the painter without turning his head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> + +<p>The boy had a basket strapped to his back, and stood +looking intently, with both hands resting on his knees. His +name was Norman Blake. Other boys, and a young woman, +soon came up, and joined him as spectators.</p> + +<p>Norman studied every movement of the painter's hand; +and, when he got home, he took a piece of charcoal, and +tried to draw a picture on the wall. Rather a rough picture +it was, but pretty good for a first attempt.</p> + +<p>The next day Norman went again, and looked on while +the painter sketched. "You've got that line wrong," cried +Norman all at once, forgetting that the painter had told +him not to talk.</p> + +<p>"What do you know about it, you young vagabond?" +cried the painter angrily. "Out of this! Run, scamper, +and don't show your rogue's face here again! But stop. +Before you go, come here, and point out what struck you +as wrong."</p> + +<p>Norman pointed to a certain line which made the village +church seem a little out of its right place in the picture. +The landscape-painter seized him by the ear, and said, "You +little scamp, how did you find that out? You are right, +sir! But what business have you to criticise my picture? +I am hesitating whether to thrash you, or to make a painter +of you."</p> + +<p>"Make a painter of me, by all means;" said Norman, +laughing; for he saw that the honest painter was only half +in earnest.</p> + +<p>Well, the end of it was, that Norman accompanied the +painter to the city, and began to study drawing and painting. +He succeeded so well, that, after he had been studying +six years, he one day brought to his friend the painter the +sketch which we have had copied above.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember that?" asked Norman.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Of course I do!" said the painter. "It represents our +first meeting. Little did I think that the young vagabond +with the basket on his back would one day beat me in +sketching."</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Alfred Selwyn.</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/illus089a.png" width="400" height="342" alt="Hurrah! Great boot-race under difficulties." title="Hurrah! Great boot-race under difficulties." /> +<span class="caption">Hurrah! Great boot-race under difficulties.</span> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/illus089b.png" width="250" height="101" alt=""Now, when she comes out, I shall be sure of her!"" title=""Now, when she comes out, I shall be sure of her!"" /> +<span class="caption">"Now, when she comes out, I shall be sure of her!"</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></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> +<h2>PICTURES FOR WALTER.</h2> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/illus090a.png" width="200" height="161" alt="Bird on weather-vane" title="Bird on weather-vane" /> +</div> + +<div class='story'><span class="smcap">Here</span> are some +birds having a ride +on the weather-vane. +The vane is +on the top of the barn.</div> + +<div class='story'>I should think it would make +the birds dizzy to swing backwards +and forwards. But they +like it just as well as some boys +like to swing on a gate.</div> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/illus090b.png" width="200" height="160" alt="Bird on a fence" title="Bird on a fence" /> +</div> + +<div class='story'>Here is an old +crow sitting on the +fence. He is a sly +old thief. There +is a nest in the grass; and he +is after the eggs. If you try to +get near him, he will fly away, +saying "Caw, caw, caw!"</div> +<div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></div> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/illus091a.png" width="200" height="157" alt="The pig and the milk bucket" title="The pig and the milk bucket" /> +</div> + +<div class='story'>The milk-maid +set down her pail +of milk, and went +to the orchard. A +little pig came along, and tipped +the pail over; and the milk was +all spilled. Never leave milk +where a pig can get at it.</div> + +<div class='story'>A woodpecker had a nest in +a hollow tree. A boy climbed +up to get the eggs; but the old +birds flew at him, and pecked +him, and made him get down. +I am glad they drove him away. +What right had he to meddle +with their nest?</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">W. O. C.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/illus091b.png" width="200" height="170" alt="Birds driving the boy away" title="Birds driving the boy away" /> +</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_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus092.png" width="300" height="227" alt="The Fisherman's Children" title="The Fisherman's Children" /> +</div> +<h2>THE FISHERMEN'S CHILDREN.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> were three children on the beach looking out to +see the boats of the fishermen sail off to the fishing-grounds. +Little Joe Bourne and his sister Susan stood side by side, +watching their father's boat. Rachel, who was with them, +was not their sister, but an orphan-child, whose grandfather, +Mr. Harrison, was in one of the boats.</p> + +<p>It was a windy day in November. The waves broke with +a great noise on the shingly beach. Soon the wind rose +higher: the sea rose too, and the rain fell fast. The children +walked back to the village; and there the old men said, +shaking their heads, "We shall have a storm."</p> + +<p>That night, all the boats came safely back into the harbor, +excepting the boat in which Rachel's grandfather had sailed. +It was a long, sad night for poor Rachel. The next day +and the next passed by; and no grandfather came back to +take care of her, and find her in food and clothes, and +carry her in his strong arms when she was tired out with +walking.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus093.png" width="300" height="237" alt="Cutting a boat with an old jack-knife" title="Cutting a boat with an old jack-knife" /> +</div> + +<p>Susan and Joe in their own house felt sad for the little +orphan. One day their mother went to market. Baby was +in the cradle, and Susan was rocking it, whilst Joe was cutting +out a boat with an old jack-knife. The kettle on the +stove began to sing; and Susan and Joe began to talk.</p> + +<p>"Poor Rachel will have to be sent to the workhouse +now," said Joe.</p> + +<p>"I hope not," said Susan. "I hope father will give her +a home in our own house."</p> + +<p>"Why, he says he can hardly earn enough to feed his +own family," said Joe.</p> + +<p>"But can't we do something to help him?" asked Susan.</p> + +<p>"I know of nothing children like us can do," said Joe.</p> + +<p>When their mother came home, Susan begged so earnestly +to have Rachel come and stay with them, that Mrs. Bourne +at last replied, "Well, we will take her in for a week or two, +and see; but mind, Susan, you must try and earn a little +money somehow. You will now have less time to play on +the sands, remember."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/illus094.png" width="350" height="268" alt="Susan went and found Rachel" title="Susan went and found Rachel" /> +</div> + +<p>So Susan went and found Rachel, and brought her home +to live with them all. The poor little orphan was a bright, +joyous child. She had a strange hope that she should see +her grandfather again; that he was not lost; for he had told +her many stories of his escape from great dangers at sea.</p> + +<p>"Why, grandfather was on a wreck once a whole week," +said Rachel: "he was cast away once on an island where +he had to live on clams a long while before he was rescued. +I think we shall hear from him soon."</p> + +<p>One day Joe caught a fine basket of perch from the rocks, +and went round to try and sell them. But all the folks in the +village told him they could get as many fish as they wanted +without buying them. So Joe walked off to a town four +miles away from the sea, and there he sold his fish.</p> + +<p>He told a kind blind lady, to whom he sold some, that his +sister wanted to get work, so that she could help a poor little +orphan-girl. The kind lady sent Susan half a dozen handkerchiefs +to hem; and the next morning Susan rose early, +and sewed by candle-light, while the other children were in +bed and asleep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus095.png" width="300" height="227" alt="Susan hemming by candlelight" title="Susan hemming by candlelight" /> +</div> + +<p>For three years the poor Bourne family gave Rachel a +nice happy home in their little house; and they would have +kept her longer, but one day, while the children were all +playing on the beach, they heard a great shouting, and ran +to see what it was about.</p> + +<p>It was all in honor of Grandfather Harrison. He had +come back, as Rachel had always said he would. He had +been picked up at sea in his sinking boat by a ship bound +for Australia. The old man was carried to that far country. +He went to the mines, and helped some men dig gold. He +made a good deal of money, thinking it would be a good +thing if he could only be rich enough to send his dear little +grand-daughter to school.</p> + +<p>But Rachel was not the only one who was benefited by +his good fortune. The Bournes shared in it. Joe and Susan, +and all the rest of the children, were sent to school also; and +they studied with a will. It was always a happy thought +to Rachel that the great kindness of these good people did +not miss its reward even in this life.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Ida Fay.</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_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus096.png" width="400" height="228" alt="Young Lazybones" title="Young Lazybones" /> +</div> +<h2>YOUNG LAZYBONES.</h2> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/music.png" width="600" height="428" 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/septmusic.midi">here</a>.]</small></div> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="8" cellspacing="0" summary="Second and third verses of Young Lazybones"> +<tr><td align='left'>2. Then little Maggie sings to him,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And plays upon the harp;</span><br /> +While rapid Robert, keen and slim,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cries, "Lazybones, look sharp!"</span><br /> +And Lucy tickles with her wand,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This sleepy, lazy boy;</span><br /> +And one and all with tricks and jokes<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In teasing him take joy.</span><br /> +</td><td align='left'>3. But Lazybones must take his nap<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before he goes to bed:</span><br /> +He does not move his weary limbs<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or lift his heavy head.</span><br /> +And though a dozen brewers' drays<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Should rumble o'er the stones,</span><br /> +Not all the noise that they can make<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would rouse Young Lazybones.</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 +July issue with the "No." added. The original table of contents +covered the second half of 1873. The remaining text of the table of +contents can be found in the rest of the year's issues.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Nursery, September 1873, Vol. XIV. +No. 3, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NURSERY, SEPT. 1873, VOL.XIV NO.3 *** + +***** This file should be named 24940-h.htm or 24940-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/9/4/24940/ + +Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net Music +by Linda Cantoni. + + +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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