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diff --git a/24942-h/24942-h.htm b/24942-h/24942-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8646f1b --- /dev/null +++ b/24942-h/24942-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1817 @@ +<!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, November 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.quarrel {width: 500px; text-align: center; background-image: + url("images/illus150.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;} + .poem3 {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 5%; 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, November 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 5, 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, November 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 5 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: March 29, 2008 [EBook #24942] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NURSERY, NOV. 1873, VOL.XIV NO.5 *** + + + + +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. 5<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 Aunt and the Niece</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Dreadfully cheated</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Bad Blow</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Paul</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Little Piggy</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Camping Out</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Field-Day with the Geese</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Learn to think</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Grandpa and the Mouse</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Speckled Hen</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Story of a Daisy</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_156">156</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'>Summer's over</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Anvil Chorus</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Cat and the Book</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>What Willy did</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Brothers that did not quarrel</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Home from the Woods</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Winifred Waters (<i>with music</i>)</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_160">160</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_129" id="Page_129">[129]</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> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus129.jpg" width="400" height="573" alt="THE AUNT AND THE NIECE." title="THE AUNT AND THE NIECE." /> +<span class="caption">THE AUNT AND THE NIECE.</span> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2>THE AUNT AND THE NIECE.</h2> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;"> +<img src="images/a.png" width="100" height="106" alt="A" title="A" /> +</div><div class='unindent'><br />UNT RUTH was only nine years old, while her +niece Mary was nineteen. But Ruth, being +an aunt, felt she must keep up the dignity of +one; and so she used to treat Mary as if Mary +were a little girl.</div> + +<p>They had not seen each other for nearly a year; and, +when they met, Mary, who was fond of mischief, acted as +if she were really younger than Ruth, though she well +knew she was nine years older.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Ruth," said Mary, "have you any objection to my +going out in the grove to swing?"</p> + +<p>"None at all, my dear," said Ruth; "but I will go with +you, lest you should get hurt."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, aunty," replied Mary. "Now let us see +who can run the faster."</p> + +<p>Mary started off at a run towards the swing; but Ruth +called her back, and said, "Stop, my dear, you will wet +those nice new shoes in the damp grass; and then your +mother will blame me for not taking better care of you. +We will go by the gravel road to the grove."</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," answered Mary, turning her head to hide +her smiles; and then, seeing a flower, Mary cried, "Oh! +what a beautiful flower! Tell me what it is, aunty. I +think I never saw one like it before. What a heavenly +blue! And how nicely the edges are fringed!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear: that is a fringed gentian," said Ruth. +"It is one of the latest of our wild autumn flowers; and I +am not surprised that you admire it."</p> + +<p>"It is indeed lovely," exclaimed Mary. "You must teach +me all about these wild flowers, aunty; for we city girls have +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>few opportunities of seeing them."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear niece, I will teach you," returned Ruth. +"I want you to learn a lesson of some kind every day you +are with us."</p> + +<p>Mary burst out into a laugh that she could not control.</p> + +<p>"Why, what are you laughing at, my dear?" asked Aunt +Ruth.</p> + +<p>But Mary, to escape replying to the question, ran and +took hold of the swing. "Now for it, aunty!" said she.</p> + +<p>Mary sat down in the swing, and Ruth pushed her from +behind; and, after she had swung enough, Ruth took her to +the barn. But here, I regret to say, the sight of a pile of +hay on the barn-floor was too much for Niece Mary. She +seemed to lose all her reverence at once.</p> + +<p>Seizing Aunt Ruth, she threw her on the hay, and covered +her up with it, crying out, "You precious little aunty, I +must have a frolic, or I shall die. So forget that you are an +aunt, and try to remember that you are nothing, after all, +but a darling little girl."</p> + +<p>Ruth, though at first surprised, was too sensible a girl to +be offended. Papa came in; and, seeing aunt and niece on +the hay, he covered them both up with it, till they begged +to be let out, and promised to be good.</p> + +<p>He was just from the garden, and had thrown down his +hoe, rake, and watering-pot, and taken off his straw-hat. +But the hat suddenly disappeared, and papa wondered +where it was. Niece Mary had slipped it under the hay.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Emily Carter.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus131.jpg" width="300" height="110" 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_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/illus132.jpg" width="250" height="273" alt="Dreadfully cheated" title="Dreadfully cheated" /> +</div> + +<h2>DREADFULLY CHEATED.</h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Uncle</span>," said George, "what makes you call that great +clumsy dog 'Watch'? A watch goes 'tick, tick,' as busy +as can be all the time; and this dog is a lazy old fellow."</p> + +<p>"I know that," said Uncle Henry; "but he is called +Watch, because he acts the part of a watchman, or guard, +to keep off thieves and stragglers.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know how he barks when any one comes +here whom he does not know? He will not let a stranger +come near the house after dark, without giving notice. I +do not suppose it would be possible for any of us to come +into the house without his knowing it."</p> + +<p>"I mean to try," said George, "and see if I cannot cheat +you, old fellow." And Watch looked up in his face with a +very knowing wink, which seemed to say, "Don't try to be +too smart, or you may get into trouble."</p> + +<p>Now, for all George called Watch "clumsy" and "lazy,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +he was very fond of him; and many a nice frolic they had +together.</p> + +<p>That very afternoon, while they were enjoying a grand +tumble on the grass, George's mother called him into the +house to do an errand for her.</p> + +<p>George had quite a long walk to take; and, when he got +back, it was quite dark. Just as he reached the garden-gate, +he remembered what his uncle had said that morning +about Watch.</p> + +<p>"Now," said he to himself, "I'll just see if I cannot get +into the house without your knowing it, Master Watch; and, +if I cannot, you are smarter than I think."</p> + +<p>So George took off his shoes, and went stealing along on +the soft grass, looking like a little thief, until he came to +the broad gravel-walk, which he must cross to get round +to the back of the house.</p> + +<p>He stopped for a minute, while he looked about for +Watch, and soon spied him lying at the front-door, with his +black nose resting upon his great white paws; and he +seemed to be fast asleep.</p> + +<p>Then George very cautiously stepped upon the gravel-walk, +first with one foot, and then with the other. As he +did so, Watch pricked up both ears; but it was so dark, that +George did not see them.</p> + +<p>So, thinking that the old dog had not moved, he went on +very quickly, and, as he thought, very quietly, when all at +once, just as he was beginning to chuckle at the success of +his trick, he heard a gruff "Bow-wow," and found himself +flat upon the ground, with the dog upon his back, and two +rows of sharp white teeth very near his throat.</p> + +<p>Although George was hurt by the fall, and was a good +deal frightened, he had his wits about him, and said, "Watch, +Watch, don't you know me, old fellow?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> + +<p>I wish you could have seen Watch then, when he found +that he had mistaken his little friend for a thief. He jumped +up and down, and cried and whined as if he had been +whipped, and was so mortified, and ashamed of his mistake, +that it was a long time before George could persuade him +to go into the house.</p> + +<p>At last they both went in, and George told his story; +and when the laughing was over, and old Watch had been +patted and comforted by every one, Uncle Henry said, +"Well, George, we shall have to say that you were both +dreadfully cheated."</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Aunt Tutie</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>SUMMER'S OVER.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'><span class="smcap">Summer's</span> over, summer's over!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">See, the leaves are falling fast;</span><br /> +Flowers are dying, flowers are dying,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All their beauty's gone at last.</span><br /> +Now the thrush no longer cheers us;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Warbling birds forget to sing;</span><br /> +And the bees have ceased to wander,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sipping sweets on airy wing.</span><br /> +<br /> +Winter's coming, winter's coming!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now his hoary head draws near;</span><br /> +Winds are blowing, winds are blowing;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All around looks cold and drear.</span><br /> +Hope of spring must now support us;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Winter's reign will pass away;</span><br /> +Flowers will bloom, and birds will warble,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Making glad the livelong day.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">T. C.</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_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus135.jpg" width="400" height="297" alt="A Bad Blow" title="A Bad Blow" /> +</div> + +<h2>A BAD BLOW.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Little</span> David came running home from school one winter +afternoon. As he passed through the yard, he saw the door +of the cellar-kitchen standing open, and heard some one +down in the cellar, pounding, thump, thump, thump.</p> + +<p>Little David ran down the steps to see who it was.</p> + +<p>He saw a great blazing fire in the wide fireplace, and +three big pots hanging on the crane over it; and his +mamma, Leah, Jane, and Aunt Jinny, making sausages; +and John Bigbee, the colored boy, with a wooden mortar +between his knees, and an iron-pestle in his hand, pounding, +thump, thump, thump, in the mortar.</p> + +<p>Little David ran to John, and asked, "What's in there?" +but did not wait for an answer. He drew in his breath as +hard as he could, and blew into the mortar with all his +might.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> + +<p>A cloud of fine black pepper flew up into his mouth, nose, +and eyes. How he did sneeze and strangle and cry!</p> + +<p>Leah ran for a basin of cold water. His mamma got a +soft linen cloth, and washed away all the pepper and most +of the pain.</p> + +<p>When he stopped crying, she said, "Little David, <span class="smcap">don't +meddle</span>."</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">D. D. H.</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: 225px;"> +<img src="images/illus136.jpg" width="225" height="226" alt="The Anvil Chorus" title="The Anvil Chorus" /> +</div> + +<h2>THE ANVIL CHORUS.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">Clink</span>, clink, clinkerty clink!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That is the tune at morning's blink;</span><br /> +And we hammer away till the busy day,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Weary like us, to rest doth sink.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From useful labor we will not shrink;</span><br /> +But our fires we'll blow till the forges glow<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a lustre that makes our eyelids wink.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A chain we'll forge with many a link:</span><br /> +We'll pound each form while the iron is warm,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With blows as rapid as one may think.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our faces may be as black as ink;</span><br /> +But our hearts are as true as man ever knew:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Kindly on all we look and think.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Oxford's Junior Speaker</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_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus137.jpg" width="400" height="288" alt="Paul" title="Paul" /> +</div> + +<h2>PAUL.</h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Four</span> years is very old: I am almost a man," said wee +Paul. "Now I can wear papa's coat and hat, and use his +gold-topped cane."</p> + +<p>He put on the coat. It took some time.</p> + +<p>"If the end was cut off, and the thickening taken out, it +would be a nice fit. The hat is too tall for a man of my +size; but it keeps all my head dry. I shall save an umbrella."</p> + +<p>He would also save his eyes; for they were not needed +in the top of the hat, and he could feel his way with his +feet. He pitied the horses who wore blinders, and wondered +how they could go so fast. He tried to step off +boldly, but fell over the cane, and smashed the hat. Jane +had to come and hunt for him under the coat.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, child," said Jane, shaking the dust from him. +"Come now, and have a ride on the rocking-horse."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He's too slow for me," cried Paul loudly; "and a man +of my age won't be <i>shooken</i>, Jane!"</p> + +<p>Paul went out and sat beside Fido, on the basement-steps. +He made his mouth into a funny round O, and grew purple +in the face, trying to whistle Yankee Doodle.</p> + +<p>"Don't go off the bricks, child," said Jane, opening a +window.</p> + +<p>"I'll take care of myself," said Paul. Then he told Fido +that Jane had put it into his head to go off the bricks, and +that it would be her fault if he did.</p> + +<p>Fido began to bark and jump to coax his young master +away. He had such fine times when Jane took them out +to walk, that he wanted to go again. Paul knew his +mamma had forbidden his leaving the brick walk in front +of their home; but he longed to go. He put one foot off +the bricks, then the other, and away he ran, Fido barking +beside him.</p> + +<p>Paul ran across two streets, and reached the Public Garden +quite out of breath. He said it was fine fun; but he +really was not so happy as he was when sitting on his +mother's steps. He walked slowly to the pond. He thought +he would catch some fish, and give them to Jane, and perhaps +she would not tell his mother.</p> + +<p>"Here, Fido, go catch fish!" he cried, pointing to the water.</p> + +<p>Fido jumped in, and chased a chip with all his might. +Paul scolded him well for not catching a fish. The little +boy was cross, because he knew he was doing wrong; and +when Fido got the chip at last, and laid it at Paul's feet, +the child drove him into the water again.</p> + +<p>Fido was a small dog, and grew tired very soon. His paws +moved slowly, and he had hard work to keep his tiny nose +out of the water. He cried for help.</p> + +<p>"Poor dog, he will drown!" said a lady upon the bridge.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<p>Paul had been so cross that he forgot dear little Fido +could be in danger. He began to cry aloud, and rushed to +the edge of the pond to save his pet.</p> + +<p>"Dear Fido, don't die!" sobbed Paul, stretching out his +hands; but he lost his balance, and fell into the water.</p> + +<p>Paul and Fido might both have been drowned if the +people on the bridge had not run to save them. The +street and number of Paul's house were printed on Fido's +collar: so they carried the two there. Paul's mother cried +when she saw the sad plight her little boy was in; and he +was quite sick for a few days.</p> + +<p>"We'd better mind mother, and let Jane go with us +always, if she is an old fuss!" said Paul to Fido, the first +time they were alone together. And Fido gave a deep +sigh that meant yes.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Helen C. Pearson</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: 250px;"> +<img src="images/illus139.jpg" width="250" height="156" alt="The cat and the book" title="The cat and the book" /> +<span class="caption">The cat and the book</span> +</div> + +<h2>THE CAT AND THE BOOK.</h2> + +<div class='poem2'><span class="smcap">Oh</span>, dear me! what a deal of knowledge<br /> +It must take to read books, and fit for college!<br /> +But, if cats are not able to read a single letter,<br /> +They can catch mice, and climb trees; and is not that better?<br /> +<br /> +Now, if these little rhymes are not wholly to your taste,<br /> +Bear in mind they are supposed to be by a cat, and written in haste.<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_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> + +<h2>LITTLE PIGGY.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">One</span> day my brother Richard brought a little pig in-doors +from the farm-yard. "Squeak, squeak!" cried the little +thing as it nestled in Dick's arms.</p> + +<p>As soon as we all had looked at it, my mother wished Dick +to take it back to the sow. "No," said Dick: "she has too +many piggies to bring up. I think we must kill this one." +We all begged him not to kill it; and after some talk it +was settled that I should have it, and try to bring it up.</p> + +<p>So I took piggy under my charge. I named him "Dob." +I fed him on skim-milk with a wooden spoon; and he soon +looked for his meal as regularly as I looked for my breakfast. +I made him a bed in a basket with some hay and a bit +of flannel; but he soon outgrew the basket, and we then +made him a bed under the kitchen-stairs.</p> + +<p>When he grew big enough, he was sent into the farm-yard +to get his living among the other pigs; but he would always +run after me, and follow me into the house like a dog. I +had only to call out, "Dob, Dob!" at the gate, and Dob +would be sure to come.</p> + +<p>One day he followed me in-doors with a bit of hay in his +mouth. He ran down stairs, and left this bit of hay where +he used to sleep, under the kitchen-stairs. He then ran off, +and soon returned with some more hay in his mouth, and put +it in the same place. "Well, I declare!" said cook, "this pig +has as much sense as a Christian. Now he has made his +bed, I wonder whether he'll come and sleep in it?"</p> + +<p>In the evening, when we were at tea, Dob came to the +kitchen-door, crying, "Ugh, ugh!" and, when they let him +in, he trotted off to his bed. We all thought this very clever +on the part of Dob; and cook said, "<i>He was the knowingest +little piggy she ever seed!</i>"</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">T. C.</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_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus141.jpg" width="400" height="305" alt="Camping out" title="Camping out" /> +</div> +<h2>CAMPING OUT.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Albert</span> lives in the Far West. He is only seven years +old. He has no brothers or sisters to play with him, so +he has to amuse himself. He makes railroads and bridges +and houses with bits of rock. He has a toy shovel and a +pickaxe and a little axe that will cut. He is very happy +playing with them for hours.</p> + +<p>Sometimes he gets tired of his playthings, and says, +"Mamma, what shall I do now?" Then his mamma tells +him that he may read his lesson. If he has been a good +boy, she reads some of the stories in "The Nursery" to him, +which pleases him very much.</p> + +<p>One day last autumn, his papa and mamma went over on +the Neosho River, in the Indian Territory (you must look<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +on the map and see where that is), to gather some hickory-nuts +and walnuts. Of course they took Albert with them.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/illus142.jpg" width="150" height="132" alt="Wolf" title="Wolf" /> +</div> + +<p>It was a bright sunny morning +when they started off across the +prairie. They saw a great many +prairie-chickens, and two big gray +wolves, as they went along. Albert +was in great glee; but it was a long +ride, and the little boy was very glad +when they came in sight of the sparkling waters of the +Neosho, just as the sun was setting.</p> + +<p>Papa had just time to pitch a tent and build a big fire before +it was quite dark. Then they all sat down by the fire, +and ate their supper. Then mamma made up a nice bed +with blankets and shawls, and put Albert into it. They +were all glad to go to bed early.</p> + +<p>The wolves barked at them several times during the +night, but were too much afraid of the fire to venture very +near. Albert slept as sweetly as if he had been in his own +little bed at home, instead of being out under the starry +sky, far away from a house. When he opened his eyes +next morning, it was yet quite dusk; but papa was getting +ready to go to a pond to shoot some ducks for breakfast. +Albert wished to go too; and papa kindly consented. When +they came to the pond, papa told Albert to sit down on a +log a little way off, so that he would not scare the ducks, +and wait until he called him.</p> + +<p>Albert promised to do so, and waited for a while; but it +seemed to him a very long time, and he began to grow tired +and hungry. He called several times; but no one answered, +as papa did not wish to scare the ducks. Then he thought +he would go back to mamma at the camp.</p> + +<p>He walked on bravely at first; but by and by, as he saw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +no sign of the camp, and the trees seemed to look all alike, +he began to be afraid. He feared lest he might see a wolf +or other wild animal; and then he began to cry, and to call +loudly. Some Indians across the river called to him, and +asked him what was the matter.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/illus143a.jpg" width="150" height="208" alt="Indian" title="Indian" /> +</div> + +<p>Albert was not afraid of them; but he did +not stop crying. At last mamma heard +him, and was just going to look for him, +when papa overtook him, and brought him +to the camp. He had scared the ducks so +that they had none for breakfast, after all.</p> + +<p>But mamma had the coffee-pot boiling by +the fire; and the bread and butter, cakes, +cold meat, and other things from the luncheon-basket, tasted +very good in the cool autumn air.</p> + +<p>Albert was much ashamed of having been such a coward, +and promised never to be so foolish again. If he had +done as his papa told him, he would not have got into +such trouble.</p> + +<p>After breakfast they all went to work in earnest, and soon +had a fine lot of nuts. Albert also picked up some pretty +shells by the river-brink. Then papa and mamma packed +up the blankets, luncheon-basket, and other things, and, +giving a parting look at the bright river, they turned the +horses' heads towards home.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Grace Moeren</span>.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus143b.jpg" width="400" height="123" alt="The river" title="The river" /> +</div> + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> +<h2>A FIELD-DAY WITH THE GEESE.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Joseph</span> wants to be a soldier; but, not having any boys to +drill, he has to content himself with drilling his uncle's +geese. See them on parade! He has opened the gate: he +has cried out, "Forward, march!" and in come the geese, +black and white, single file.</p> + +<p>Joseph stands proudly aside, as a commander ought to, +while reviewing his troops. He has a flag in his hand. His +cousin Richard is the trumpeter. Mary looks on with admiration, +and does not remark that Fido, the sly dog, is trying +to find out what she has good to eat in her basket.</p> + +<p>Now let me tell you a few facts about geese. They have +the reputation of being stupid; but Richard has not found +them so. That leading goose goes by the name of Capt. +Waddle. He does not hold up his head as a captain should; +but he minds a good deal that Richard says to him, for he is +very fond of Richard, and tries to do all that he is told +to do.</p> + +<p>I have heard of a goose who became very fond of a bull-dog. +Grim, for that was the dog's name, had saved her +from the clutch of a fox; and after that it seemed as if the +poor goose could not do enough to show her gratitude. +Every day she would keep as near to Grim as she could; +and, when he was chained to his kennel, she would stay by, +and show her affection in many ways.</p> + +<p>At last the bull-dog was sent off to a neighboring town; +and then the poor goose lost her appetite, and seemed to +pine so, that her owner, Mrs. Gilbert, who was a humane +woman, and took a great interest in dumb animals, sent for +Grim to come back.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/illus145.jpg" width="600" height="413" alt="With the geese" title="With the geese" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +It would have pleased you to see the meeting. The instant +the goose heard Grim's familiar bark, she started up,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +and ran with outstretched wings to greet him. She came +as near to embracing him as a goose could. Grim seemed +well pleased with her delight, and barked his acknowledgments +in a tone that could not be mistaken.</p> + +<p>The goose soon regained her appetite, and was not again +parted from her dear Grim. The best of this story is, that +it is true. So you see that even geese are not so stupid but +that they show gratitude to those who befriend them.</p> + +<p>Indeed, geese seem to be constant in their affections. They +know, also, how to show anger. I remember once seeing a +boy tease some geese in order to make them angry. They +ran after him in a rage, seized hold of his clothes, and +nipped him smartly to punish him for the insult.</p> + +<p>Once, in Scotland, a young goose became so fond of its +master, that it followed him everywhere, no matter how +great the distance, and even through the crowd and tumult +of a city.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Uncle Charles</span>.<br /> +</div> + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<h2>WHAT WILLY DID.</h2> + +<div class='poem'><span class="smcap">When</span> the gas was lighted,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Willy's mamma said,</span><br /> +"Maggie, feed the children,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And put them both to bed."</span><br /> +<br /> +When the milk was eaten,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Maggie went for more:</span><br /> +So she put the baby<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Down upon the floor.</span><br /> +<br /> +Then the naughty Willy<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Climbed up for a match,</span><br /> +And he lit it quickly<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a little scratch.</span><br /> +<br /> +But it burnt his fingers<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the flame arose,</span><br /> +And suddenly he dropped it<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the baby's clothes.</span><br /> +<br /> +Up it blazed so fiercely,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That, when Maggie came,</span><br /> +There was little baby<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Screaming in the flame.</span><br /> +<br /> +Maggie put the fire out,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And saved the baby too;</span><br /> +But Willy was so frightened<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He knew not what to do.</span><br /> +<br /> +He was sorry, too, for baby,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With arms all burnt and sore;</span><br /> +And so he never meddled<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With matches any more.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +H. F. W.<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_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus147.png" width="400" height="432" alt="Learn to Think" title="Learn to Think" /> +</div> +<h2>LEARN TO THINK.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Walter Dane</span> was in a hurry to go off to play at ball +with some of his schoolfellows; and so he did not give +much thought to the lesson which he had to learn.</p> + +<p>It was a lesson in grammar. Walter's mother took the +book, and said, "I fear my little boy finds it hard to put +his thoughts on his lesson to-day."</p> + +<p>"Try me, mother," said Walter. "I will do my best."</p> + +<p>"Then, I will put you a question which is not in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +book," said mamma. "Which is the heavier,—a pound of +feathers, or a pound of lead?"</p> + +<p>"A pound of lead, to be sure!" cried Walter confidently.</p> + +<p>"There! you spoke then without thinking," said Mrs. +Dane. "A little thought would have made it clear to you +that a pound is a pound, and that a pound of feathers must +weigh just as much as a pound of lead."</p> + +<p>"When I spoke, I was thinking that Tom Burton was +out in the yard waiting for me," said Walter.</p> + +<p>"Well, take your thoughts off from Tom Burton, and put +them on the question I am now about to ask you. What +is a noun?"</p> + +<p>"A noun is a word used as the name of any object."</p> + +<p>"Very well. A noun, then, is a name-word."</p> + +<p>"But why is not every word a name-word just the +same?" asked Walter.</p> + +<p>"Different sorts of words have different uses," said Mrs. +Dane. "If I say, '<i>Walter, come here</i>,' by the word <i>Walter</i>, +I name an object or person; and it is therefore a name-word, +or noun. <i>Noun</i> means <i>name</i>. By the word <i>come</i>, I tell +Walter what to do; and therefore <i>come</i> is a different sort of +word from a name-word. <i>Come</i> is a verb. By the word <i>here</i>, +I tell Walter <i>where</i> he must come; and so <i>here</i> is a different +sort of word from both <i>Walter</i> and <i>come</i>. <i>Here</i> is an +adverb."</p> + +<p>"But, if I say '<i>Come</i>,' do I not name something?" asked +Walter.</p> + +<p>"You certainly do not. What thing do you name? <i>Come</i> +is not an object or thing; <i>come</i> is not a person. You cannot +say, 'Give me a <i>come</i>,' or 'Let me see a <i>come</i>.'"</p> + +<p>"But <i>dog</i> is a name-word, and <i>tree</i> is a name-word," cried +Walter. "I can say, 'Give me a dog,' 'Let me see a tree;' +can I not?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You certainly can, my son," said Mrs. Dane.</p> + +<p>"And sister, father, mother, sky, cloud, sun, moon, bread, +butter, horse, cow, book, picture, water, land, doll, cart, ball, +bat, are all name-words, or nouns; are they not, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes: I think you begin to see now what a <i>noun</i> is. And +let me say one thing more, and then you may run to see +Tom Burton."</p> + +<p>"What is it, mother?" inquired Walter.</p> + +<p>"When your uncle gave you a box of mixed shells last +winter, what did you do with them?"</p> + +<p>"I sorted them carefully, putting those of the same kind +together, so that I might learn their names, the places where +they are found, and the habits of the little animals that live +in them."</p> + +<p>"And just so we ought to treat words. We must first +<i>sort</i> them, so as to learn what their use is in speech, and +how and where they ought to be used. Grammar teaches +us to sort words. Now run and play."</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Uncle Charles.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus149.png" width="300" height="197" alt="Ploughing" title="Ploughing" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='center'> <table class="quarrel" summary="The Brothers That Did Not Quarrel"> +<tr><td align='left'><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + +<div><span style="margin-left: 7em;"><b><big>THE BROTHERS THAT DID NOT QUARREL.</big></b></span><br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='poem3'><span class="smcap">Two</span> little brothers, loving fair weather,<br /> +Played on the meadow, played there together;<br /> +Yet not quite lonely were they that day<br /> +On the bright meadow, while at their play.<br /> +<br /> +Six little swallows came and flew round,<br /> +Over the tree-tops, over the ground;<br /> +Butterflies, also, did not disdain<br /> +Near them to flutter, glad to remain.<br /> +<br /> +There on the herbage tender and green<br /> +Might these two brothers, playful be seen:<br /> +Never they quarrelled; no angry words,<br /> +Hastily uttered, shocked the dear birds.<br /> +<br /> +All through the daytime there the two played,<br /> +Sometimes in sunshine, sometimes in shade.<br /> +"And did not quarrel? Please stop your shams!"<br /> +"I tell you truly. Why, they were <i>lambs!</i>"<br /> +<br /></div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Ida Fay.</span><br /> +</div> +<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_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus151.png" width="400" height="299" alt="Grandpa and the Mouse" title="Grandpa and the Mouse" /> +</div> +<h2>GRANDPA AND THE MOUSE.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Grandpa Crane</span> went into the city every morning. He +had to go so far, and it was so late when he came home to +dinner, he thought he would like to have something to eat +while he was away.</p> + +<p>So every day, when he was ready to go to the cars, Aunt +Emmie gave him a little basket with a pretty round cover +on it.</p> + +<p>Inside she put cookies or gingerbread, or plum-cake with +ever so many plums in it. Grandpa liked the plum-cake +best of all the little basket carried.</p> + +<p>The office he sat in was down on a wharf, where the +water comes, and the wind blows, just as if it were out at +sea.</p> + +<p>When he had been there a long while, he would get his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +basket, and eat what Aunt Emmie had put in it. As he was +old, his hand would shake, and let bits of cake fall on the +floor.</p> + +<p>Now, a little gray mouse lived in a hole in that very floor, +way up in a corner. His bright eyes peeped out at Grandpa +Crane when he was eating; and he looked as though he +would like to get those good bits if he could muster courage +to do it.</p> + +<p>One day mousie was so hungry, that he made bold to run +at a crumb which had fallen a good way from grandpa's +feet. He picked it up as quick as he could, and scampered +back with it to his safe little hole.</p> + +<p>Finding that grandpa did him no hurt, mousie tried it +another day. After a while, he came out every time he +saw grandpa open the little basket, and picked up all the +crumbs that fell down.</p> + +<p>One day grandpa was very tired, and fell fast asleep after +he had eaten his cake. Pretty soon he felt a pull at his +soft white hair. He put up his hand, and down ran mousie.</p> + +<p>Not getting as much to eat that day as he wanted, mousie +had just walked up grandpa's side to his shoulder, and then +up on his head. Wasn't that a queer place for a mouse to +try to find something to eat?</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Aunt Emmie.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus152.png" width="300" height="165" 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_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/illus153.png" width="350" height="262" alt="Home from the Woods" title="Home from the Woods" /> +</div> +<h2>HOME FROM THE WOODS.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'><span class="smcap">It</span> rains! and, hark! the rushing wind<br /> +Begins to moan and blow:<br /> +Take jug and basket, and come on.<br /> +For we have far to go.<br /> +<br /> +Don't fret and whimper, little one;<br /> +Here, my umbrella take:<br /> +The birds heed not the pouring rain;<br /> +Just hear the songs they make!<br /> +<br /> +And see how glad are leaf and bud<br /> +To get each cooling drop:<br /> +Come, soon it will be bright again,<br /> +For soon the rain will stop.<br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">From the German.</span><br /> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</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>THE SPECKLED HEN.</h2> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/illus154a.png" width="150" height="135" alt="Hen on the steps" title="Hen on the steps" /> +</div> + +<div class='story'><span class="smcap">The</span> speckled hen +walked all around +the house, and saw +the front-door open. +So she walked right in, and +went up stairs.</div> + +<div class='story'>She peeped into the front-chamber, +pecked a little at the +carpet, and clucked with surprise +when she saw herself in +the looking-glass.</div> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/illus154b.png" width="150" height="129" alt="The bowl tipped over" title="The bowl tipped over" /> +</div> + +<div class='story'>By and by she saw +a wash-bowl standing +on the top of +the bureau. She +thought this would make a nice +place for a nest. So she flew +up to see; but the bowl tipped +over, and fell upon the floor.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></div> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/illus155a.png" width="150" height="120" alt="Nest in the band-box" title="Nest in the band-box" /> +</div> + +<div class='story'>When the people +came up stairs to +see what was the +matter, they found +that the wash-bowl was all broken +in pieces, and the hen had +made her nest in the band-box +in the corner of the room.</div> + +<div class='story'>They thought this a very +saucy thing for a hen to do; +but they did not drive her out: +they waited to see what she +would do next.</div> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/illus155b.png" width="150" height="135" alt="Up on the window-sill" title="Up on the window-sill" /> +</div> + +<div class='story'>By and by the hen +came off, and flew +up on the window-sill. +Then she began +to cackle very loud. I suppose +she meant to say, "Go and look +in the band-box."</div> + +<div class='sig'> +W. O. C.<br /> +</div> + + + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus156.png" width="300" height="234" alt="Story of a Daisy" title="Story of a Daisy" /> +</div> +<h2>STORY OF A DAISY.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Deep</span> down in a snug little dell, beneath a high bank, +near the roadside, grew a wild daisy. It had braved the +snow and ice of winter, and was now putting forth its leaves +to the soft breezes and blue skies of spring.</p> + +<p>One day a party of boys and girls came to play near the +daisy-plant's home; and she thought she would surely be +trampled on and killed. But the children at last went away, +and daisy-plant breathed freely once more.</p> + +<p>But it was not long before she heard a child's voice cry, +"Papa, papa, I can run down this bank. Let me run down +this bank all by myself, dear papa." And, before papa could +say Nay, down ran little Emma Vincent, and stood close +beside daisy-plant.</p> + +<p>"Oh, look at this darling daisy, only look, papa!" cried +Emma; and in one little minute the child's finger and +thumb had tight hold of the young daisy-plant's only +flower.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 530px;"> +<img src="images/illus157.png" width="530" height="400" alt="Emma took up the whole plant" title="Emma took up the whole plant" /> +</div> + +<p>Tremble, now, daisy-plant; one little nip, and your beauty +and pride will be gone. But something else than this was +in store for poor daisy-plant. "I'll not gather the flower," +said Emma. "The whole plant shall go into my garden, +papa, just as it is."</p> + +<p>Daisy-flower did not know its danger then, or maybe it +would have shut up its eye, and hung down its head, for +very fear. But, instead of this, it looked up as boldly as +a modest daisy well could into the little girl's face.</p> + +<p>So the whole plant was taken up by its roots; and Emma +bore it carefully home, and with the aid of John, the gardener's +boy, set it out nicely in her little flower-bed.</p> + +<p>Emma took great care of daisy-plant, watering it at +night, and protecting it from the hot sun at noon. Soon it +began to thrive as bravely as in its own native dell. It was +very happy, and could spare a flower or two without missing +them so very much.</p> + +<p>But one day, when she returned from a week's visit to +her aunt, Emma missed her darling daisy-plant. "O papa!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +cried she, "somebody has taken it away,—my precious +daisy."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus158.png" width="300" height="242" alt="Papa had found it" title="Papa had found it" /> +</div> + +<p>Yes, a new gardener's boy, who had thought that it was +a weed, had pulled it up, and thrown it, he could not tell +where. It was hard to comfort Emma. Such a beautiful +flower it seemed in her eyes! And she had found it, and +put it in her own garden, and watched it and watered it so +carefully!</p> + +<p>And what had become of poor daisy-plant? Had it +withered and perished? No, no! daisy-plants don't give +up life and hope so easily as that. Daisy-plant was safe +yet, though it had been thrown on a heap of rubbish.</p> + +<p>The next day papa came in with something he had covered +with a handkerchief. Emma took away the handkerchief, +and clapped her hands for joy. "My own dear +daisy," she said: "yes, I am sure it is the same. Thank +you, dear papa!"</p> + +<p>Yes, papa had found it on the rubbish, had washed it from +dirt, and clipped off its broken leaves, and put it into a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +pretty little flower-pot with some fine rich mould; and there +was daisy as brisk and bright as ever.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus159.png" width="300" height="237" alt=""How can I show my thanks?"" title=""How can I show my thanks?"" /> +</div> + +<p>Summer passed away, and autumn came, and Emma was +as fond as ever of her dear plant. But Mrs. Vincent, Emma's +mother, had been very ill, and Dr. Ware had cured her.</p> + +<p>One day, while Emma was in the parlor with her father +and mother, Dr. Ware came in.</p> + +<p>"I need not come again," he said: "I am here now to say +good-by. You will not want any more of my medicines."</p> + +<p>Then Emma's papa thanked Dr. Ware very much for the +skill and care which he had shown in the case; and Emma's +mother said, "I hope to show you some day how grateful I +am, Dr. Ware."</p> + +<p>"What can I do to let him know how much I thank +him?" thought Emma. "I will give him my little daisy-plant," +said she. So she took it to Dr. Ware; and he was +so much pleased, that he took her on his knee and kissed +her. But I am not sure that a little tear did not drop on +Daisy-flower, as Emma put it into the doctor's hand.</p> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;"> +<img src="images/divider.png" width="141" height="16" alt="Divider" title="Divider" /> +</div> +<div><br /><br /></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/illus160.png" width="600" height="268" alt="Winifred Waters" title="Winifred Waters" /> +</div> + + + + +<h2>WINIFRED WATERS.</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/music.png" width="600" height="648" 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/novmusic.midi">here</a>.]</small></div> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="8" cellspacing="0" summary="Second and Third Verses"> +<tr><td align='left'>2. Send her to the sandy plains,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the zone called torrid;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Send her where it never rains,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where the heat is horrid.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mind that she has only flour</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For her daily feeding;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let her have a page an hour</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the driest reading.</span><br /> +<br /> +</td><td align='left'>3. When the poor girl has endured<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Six months of this drying,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Winifred will come back quite cured,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let us hope, of crying.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then she will not day by day</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Make those mournful faces,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And we shall not have to say,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Wring her pillow cases."</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, November 1873, Vol. XIV. +No. 5, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NURSERY, NOV. 1873, VOL.XIV NO.5 *** + +***** This file should be named 24942-h.htm or 24942-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/9/4/24942/ + +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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