Project Gutenberg's The Nursery, December 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 6, by Various
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Title: The Nursery, December 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 6
Author: Various
Release Date: March 29, 2008 [EBook #24943]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NURSERY, DEC. 1873, VOL.XIV NO.6 ***
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THE
NURSERY
_A Monthly Magazine_
FOR YOUNGEST READERS.
VOLUME XIV.--No. 2
BOSTON:
JOHN L. SHOREY, No. 36, BROMFIELD STREET.
1873.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by
JOHN L. SHOREY,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
BOSTON:
STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY RAND, AVERY, & CO.
[Illustration: CONTENTS.]
IN PROSE.
PAGE.
Clear the Coast 161
A Letter to Santa Claus 165
The Boy and the Nuts 166
Eddy's Thanksgiving 167
Benny's Arithmetic Lesson 170
Grandpa's Boots 171
What Jessie Cortrell did 173
The Balloon 178
The Starling and the Sparrows 181
The Sprained Ankle 187
IN VERSE.
PAGE.
Who is it? 164
The Acorns 175
Grandmother's Birthday 176
What the Cat said to the Monkey 180
The Tea-Party 185
[Illustration]
[Illustration: "CLEAR THE COAST."]
"CLEAR THE COAST!"
"[Illustration: C]LEAR the coast! clear the coast!" cried Albert and
Frank, as they came down hill swiftly on Frank's new sled.
"Look out for that woman!" cried little Harry, who was standing at the
top of the hill.
A poor German woman was crossing the road. She had a large basket full
of bundles, which she carried on her head. In her right hand she had an
umbrella and a tin pail, and on her arm another basket. Truly, seeing
that the roads were slippery, she had more than her share of burdens.
She tried to get out of the way; but Frank's new sled was such a swift
runner, that it came near striking her, and caused her to nearly lose
her balance, putting her at the same time into a great fright.
"You bad boys, you almost threw me down!" she exclaimed, when she
recovered from the start they had given her, and looked around to see if
she had dropped any of her bundles.
But down the hill they rushed on their sled, Frank losing his hat in
their descent, but little caring for that in his delight. The two boys,
after reaching the foot of the hill, turned, and began to drag their
sled up again.
"That woman," said Frank, "called us bad boys. Let us tell her that we
are not bad boys. We did not mean to run her down."
"Here comes Harry, running. What has he got to say?" asked Albert.
"I tell you what, boys," said Harry, "you'll be taken up if you run
people down in that way."
"Why didn't she clear the coast when I told her to?" said Albert.
"Why didn't you steer your sled out of the way?" returned Harry.
"I didn't hit her, did I?" said Albert.
"No; but you were trying to see how near you could come without hitting
her," replied Harry. "It's too bad to treat a poor old woman so!"
"So it was," said Frank. "What shall we do about it?"
"That's for Albert to say," exclaimed Harry.
"Well," replied Albert, "the right thing will be to offer to drag her
bundles for her on the sled."
"That's it!" said the other two boys.
By this time they had reached the place where the poor woman was moving
slowly along under her heavy burdens. She seemed very tired, and sighed
often as she picked her way timidly over the frozen snow.
"We are sorry we frightened you," said Albert. "We did not mean to do
any harm. Put your baskets on this sled, and we will drag them for you
as far as you want to go."
"Well, you are little gentlemen, after all," said the woman, "and I'm
sorry I was so vexed with you."
"You had cause," said Frank: "we were to blame."
Then she put her two baskets and the tin pail on the sled; and the three
boys escorted her to her home, where she thanked them heartily for the
way in which they had made amends for Albert's bad steering.
UNCLE CHARLES.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
WHO IS IT?
SURELY a step on the carpet I hear,
Some quiet mouse that is creeping so near.
Two little feet mount the rung of my chair:
True as I live, there is somebody there!
Ten lily fingers are over my eyes,
Trying to take me by sudden surprise;
Then a voice, calling in merriest glee,
"Who is it? Tell me, and you may go free."
"Who is it? Leave me a moment to guess.
Some one who loves me?" The voice answers, "Yes."
"Some one who's fairer to me than the flowers,
Brighter to me than the sunshiny hours?
Darling, whose white little hands make me blind
Unto all things that are dark and unkind;
Sunshine and blossoms, and diamond and pearl,--
Papa's own dear little, sweet little girl!"
GEORGE COOPER.
[Illustration]
A LETTER TO SANTA CLAUS.
THE little boy who got his aunt to write this letter for him wishes to
have it appear in "The Nursery," so that Santa Claus may be sure to read
it. When it is _printed_, the little boy says he can read it himself.
Here is the letter:--
DEAR MR. SANTA CLAUS,--Please, sir, could you
not bring me a team of goats next Christmas? I
do want them so much! Other little boys no
bigger than I am have a pair of goats to play
with.
When I ask my mother to get me a pair, she says
she will see, but thinks I shall have to wait a
little while. Now, dear Mr. Santa Claus, I do
not feel as if I _could_ wait.
Besides, ma's "little while" seems like a great
while to me, and when I get older I shall have
to go to school; but now I could play almost
all the time with my little goats, if I had
them. Oh, dear! I wish I had them now! I can
hardly wait till Christmas.
I will be very kind to them, and give them
plenty to eat, and a good warm bed at night.
Brother Charley says he will get me a wagon, if
you, good Mr. Santa Claus, will give me the
goats.
Folks say, that, although you are an old man,
you love little children; especially little
boys with black eyes, and who obey their
mother. Well, my eyes are very black; and I
love my mother dearly, and try to obey her.
My name is Francis Lincoln Noble: I live at
214, South 8th Street, Williamsburgh, L.I. The
house is quite high; but, dear Mr. Santa Claus,
I think your nimble deer can climb to the top
of it.
You can put the little goats right down through
the chimney in ma's room. I will take away the
fireboard, so they can come out at the
fireplace. Oh, how happy I shall be when I wake
in the morning, and see them! I shall say,
"Merry Christmas!" to everybody; and everybody
will say, "Merry Christmas!" to me.
But dear, good Mr. Santa Claus, if you cannot
get to the top of the house to put them down
the chimney, please to bring them up the
front-steps, and tie them to the door-knob; and
then blow your whistle, and I will run right
down to the door; and, dear Mr. Santa Claus,
could you not stop long enough for me to say,
"Thank you!" for my mother says all good boys
say, "Thank you!" when they receive a present?
FRANCIS LINCOLN NOBLE.
THE BOY AND THE NUTS.
A BOY once found some nuts in a jar. Like all boys, he was fond of nuts,
and was glad to hear that he might put his hand _once_ in the jar, and
have all the nuts he could then take out. He thrust his hand down the
neck of the jar, and took hold of all the nuts he could. When his hand
was quite full, he did his best to draw it out of the jar.
But the neck of the jar was small, and his hand was so full of nuts,
that he could not draw it out. He felt so sad, that tears fell from his
eyes. His friend who stood near told him to let go half the nuts. He did
so, and then drew out his hand with ease.
We shall find it so in life: men lose all, if they try to get too much.
T. C.
[Illustration]
EDDY'S THANKSGIVING.
LAST year Eddy spent Thanksgiving Day at his grandpa's. For a week
before the time came, he chattered about going. He wanted to take with
him his drum and his rocking-chair, and Frisk his dog. But mamma said he
would have plenty of playthings and playmates without them.
You would have thought so too, if you had seen the sleighs full of
uncles and aunts and cousins that came driving up to grandpa's door the
day before Thanksgiving; and, if you had heard the laughing and
shouting, you would have said they were as merry a set of people as ever
were got together.
Thanksgiving morning, grandpa said they must all go to church,--every
one of them, big and little,--except Aunt Susan, who had a bad cold. So
mamma dressed Eddy for church, and told him to be careful to keep
himself looking nice; for he was one of the worst boys to tear and soil
his clothes that you ever saw.
Eddy took a seat in the parlor, intending to be very careful; but pretty
soon he heard his cousins Harry and John talking in the kitchen, and
went out to see what was going on there.
[Illustration]
As he passed along, he saw Towzer, grandpa's great shaggy dog, on the
porch, and thought he must have a romp with him. He made Towzer sit up
and shake hands, and perform other tricks that had been taught him. Then
he thought Towzer would make a good horse.
So he straddled Towzer's back with his short fat legs, and told him to
"go 'long." But Towzer did not like to play horse, and tried to shake
Eddy off. Eddy held fast, and wriggled and shouted to make Towzer go.
All at once the dog gave a spring, and threw Eddy off into a puddle of
water.
Poor Eddy went into the house, muddy and dripping, and found that
everybody was ready to start for church. Of course, there was not time
to dress him again; so he had to stay with Aunt Susan.
He did not think that was very hard; for, after he was dressed clean
again, Aunt Susan gave him a cooky to eat, and a picture-book to look
at.
When he had got through with the book, she took him down cellar with her
to get some apples. Aunt Susan soon filled her pan, and started back;
but Eddy stopped to taste the apples in every barrel.
"Come, Eddy," called Aunt Susan from the head of the cellar-stairs.
"In a minute," answered Eddy, straining to reach the apples in a barrel
that was nearly empty. Just then he slipped, and fell into the barrel
head first, with his feet sticking up.
How he squealed! Aunt Susan's cold had made her so deaf, that she did
not hear him. He kept on squealing and kicking until the barrel tipped
over; and then he backed out of it, and went slowly up to the kitchen,
very red in the face.
He was pretty quiet after that until dinner was ready. After dinner the
children cracked nuts, and parched corn, and played merry games; and
Eddy had his share of all the fun. When he went to bed, his Aunt Susan
asked him whether he had had a good time.
"Splendid!" said Eddy.
"How did you like being thrown into the puddle?" said Aunt Susan.
"First rate!" said Eddy.
"Did you think it good fun to dive into the barrel?"
"Jolly!" said the little rogue. "I'd like to do it again."
M. F. BURLINGAME.
BENNY'S ARITHMETIC LESSON.
LITTLE BENNY has just begun to go to school.
Some boys as young and active as he is would rather play all day long
than to spend part of the time in the school-room; but he seems to like
it.
Almost every day he comes running home, saying, "I've learned something
more to-day;" and, after he has told us about it, we send him out of
doors with his little cousins, who live close by.
We know that all work and no play would make Benny a dull boy.
To-day he felt very proud, because he had been learning to add. He said
that he could say the first table.
I told him to begin, and I would tell him if he was right.
So he began; and this is the way it went on:--
BENNY.--One and one are two.
MAMMA.--That is very true.
BENNY.--Two and one are three.
MAMMA.--Nought could better be.
BENNY.--Four and one are five.
MAMMA.--True as I'm alive.
BENNY.--Five and one are six.
MAMMA.--That's a pretty fix.
BENNY.--Six and one are seven.
MAMMA.--Thought you'd say eleven.
BENNY.--Seven and one are eight.
MAMMA.--Bless your curly pate!
BENNY.--Eight and one are nine.
MAMMA.--Why, how very fine!
BENNY.--Nine and one are ten.
MAMMA.--Pretty good for Ben.
We had a good hearty laugh when we got through; for Benny's earnest way
of reciting pleased me, and he enjoyed the emphatic manner in which I
replied to his additions. How many of the little "Nursery" boys can say
the table that Benny did?
C. H.
[Illustration]
GRANDPA'S BOOTS.
HOW the stars did snap that December night! The moon was up too; and how
cold and white she looked!
And how busy Jack Frost was! No one saw him swing a hammer; no one heard
him drive a nail: but, by the time morning had come, he had laid right
across the ponds and the river a floor of ice smoother than any wooden
floor ever put down by the joiners of Norridgewock.
All the boys were out sliding. Ed Peet had come from over the river;
Fred Danforth was there from the tavern; and George Sawtelle came
running up from the big house under the willow. Others were there too,
slipping along on Jack Frost's floor.
Little Albert looked out of the window, and saw the boys at their play.
Why couldn't he go out too?
"Shall I go, mother?" he asked.
"Your slippers are too thin, Albert."
"Oh! I can put on grandpa's boots."
"Yes, you can go, but be careful. You are too young for such rough
sport."
Off scampered the eager feet, and on went the big boots. A smile must
have lighted up the mother's eyes as she heard her little boy tramping
over the floor in the heavy boots.
The boys were taking their turn at sliding. Away down at the end of the
line stood Albert. They were sliding carefully, not running too hard;
for a little way out the ice was thin. After a while, it was Albert's
turn. "I'll beat those big, clumsy boys," he thought.
Taking a long run, driving ahead with all his force, he shouted, "Now
see your grandpa go!" And, sure enough, grandpa's boots went and went,
out where the ice was thin, and down went Albert into the water! The
water was not deep, though. He was out again in a moment; and there he
stood, cold and dripping like an icicle in a January thaw.
I can hear the boys laughing, and I seem to see the smile lighting up
the mother's brown eyes still more merrily, when her little boy came
home. Albert never forgot it. In after-years he would say, "Whenever I
am inclined to show off, I think of grandpa's boots."
E. A. R.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
WHAT JESSIE CORTRELL DID.
POOR little Johnny Cortrell's eyes kept growing dimmer; and one day in
May-time they failed altogether, and Jessie, his sister, led him home
from school stone blind.
His father and mother were greatly distressed at this. Dr. James held a
candle to the poor blind eyes; but they never blinked. He said he was
not enough of an oculist to determine whether they could be cured; but
there was a doctor in Boston--Dr. Williamson, 33 Blank Street--who would
be able to pronounce with certainty.
Now, the Cortrells lived thirty-five miles away from Boston, and were
quite poor. The father did not see how he could afford the expense of
sending Johnny to Boston yet a while, but hoped to do it in the autumn.
Little Jessie overheard her parents talking on the subject, and made up
her mind to try and see what she could do. She thought she could not
wait three, four, or five months, to have Johnny cured: it ought to be
done at once.
The next day she told her plan to Johnny, and they made their
preparations; and one bright morning, when it was school-time, she and
Johnny stole out of the house hand in hand, quite unnoticed by any one.
They met a little girl named Jane Anderson; and by her Jessie sent the
following letter to her parents:--
DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,--I didn't ask you, for
fear you would say No; but Johnny and I are
going to Boston to see Dr. Williamson. I heard
all the reasons why you couldn't take Johnny
till fall, and I couldn't wait. 'Twon't hurt us
to walk this nice spring weather; and I don't
think any one will refuse to give a poor blind
boy and his sister a place to sleep, or a bowl
of bread and milk to eat. We shall ask our
road, and we won't get lost. Our Father in
heaven will go with us all the way.
Mr. Cortrell was much alarmed. "I must start after them, wife," said he.
"Those children on the road to Boston all alone! Jessie is crazy."
But Mrs. Cortrell said, "What if God put it into her heart, John?" And
so they concluded to do nothing about it.
Well, the children walked and walked, and now and then they got a drive;
and, on the third morning, Jessie led Johnny into Boston over the
Brighton road.
They found Dr. Williamson. He received them kindly. He examined Johnny's
eyes, and then said to Jessie, "I think there are nine chances in ten
that I can cure your brother."
Jessie bounded with joy. The good doctor accommodated them in his own
house while the cure was going on; and after not many days he sent the
children home in the cars, and, as he left them, placed a sealed
envelope in the hand of Jessie.
"My bill for your father: there is no haste about it," said he kindly;
and then he bade them good-by.
The journey was a short one. Happy enough were the parents to see their
dear children back again, and Johnny quite cured of his blindness.
Then Jessie handed her father the bill. "Whatever it is, I shall pay it
cheerfully," said he. He opened it, and read,--
"For services rendered Johnny and Jessie Cortrell.
"Received payment in full,
"CHARLES WILLIAMSON."
So Johnny got his eyes again, and the doctor's bill was settled; and
Jessie had done it all.[1]
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTE:
[1] From Bed-Time Stories, by Louise Chandler Moulton, published by
Roberts Brothers, Boston.
THE ACORNS.
"TALL oaks from little acorns grow."
Yes, darling children, that is so:
Then plant your acorns; do not fear;
And fruit will by and by appear.
The line you learn to-day may be
The very seed of Wisdom's tree.
EMILY CARTER.
GRANDMOTHER'S BIRTHDAY.
GRANDMA'S birthday is to-day!
This we all have come to say,
Lest she should forget the time,
Wondering at this joyful rhyme.
Welcome, welcome, happy day!
Love shed brightness on her way!
And for her may many more
Just such birthdays be in store!
We have come with fruits and flowers,
Tokens of this love of ours;
But our love shall flourish bright
When these flowers are faded quite.
Take them, grandma, and be sure
We are rich, though we are poor,--
Rich in love, though poor in gold:
So to greet you we make bold.
Blessings be around your way!
Love surround you every day!
Pleasant thoughts be with you still,
Gently going down the hill!
And may your example bright
Keep us always in the right!
So, "Hurrah, hurrah!" we say:
"Grandma's birthday is to-day!"
DORA BURNSIDE.
[Illustration]
THE BALLOON.
[Illustration]
A BALLOON was going up from Boston Common, and two children were out
upon a hill in the country watching for it. "There it is!" said Willy,
as he pointed to a black speck right over the State House.
[Illustration]
The speck seemed to grow larger every moment. "The balloon is coming
this way," said Willy. "I can see a man in it waving a flag." By and by
it seemed to be coming down on a hill close by where the children stood.
They ran to meet it, shouting as they went; but it was a great deal
farther off than they thought it was.
[Illustration]
A good many other people were looking at the balloon at the same time;
and it came down in a pasture where some children were picking berries.
When it got almost down, the man looked out and said, "Have you any
blueberries for sale?"
[Illustration]
The children held out their baskets, and said, "Yes, plenty of
them."--"Well, then," said the man, "I think this is a good place to
stop at."
W. O. C.
[Illustration]
WHAT THE CAT SAID TO THE MONKEY.
YOU cowardly monkey, come out if you dare!
I'll teach you my dear little kittens to scare.
Because I had gone a few moments away,
You thought that to plague them was good monkey play.
But when I came back, just in season, I saw
What was up, and I gave you a pat with my paw:
It didn't set well, might I judge from your face.
What ails your poor arm? and why that grimace?
Now, here hangs my paw; and, if you're inclined
To try it again, 'twill be ready, you'll find.
And mark, Mr. Monkey, if up to your fun,
I'll show, to your sorrow, I have more than one.
So Velvetpaw, Whitefoot, and Darkey, don't fear!
No monkey shall harm you while mother is near.
The rascal who plagued you has found I am rough:
Of my paw and my claw he has had quite enough.
[Illustration]
THE STARLING AND THE SPARROWS.
THE starling is a trim little bird, measuring from seven to eight inches
in length. He goes dressed in black, and his coat glistens like satin in
the sunlight. In autumn, however, after moulting, he looks as if
bedecked with white pearls.
This is his travelling-suit, and in it he prepares to take his flight
southward to a warmer region. He is a European bird; and so he goes from
Germany as far south as Spain, Italy, and Greece. Now and then he
ventures as far as Africa.
But, as soon as spring begins to appear, the starling is sure to come
back northward to his old haunts. He comes with merry songs and
chatterings, and seems determined that no one shall be sad while he is
about.
Flying to the topmost bough of some tree in the neighborhood of his old
home, he proclaims to all the world that the Good Fellow (as the Germans
call him) has come back, and that all the people may be glad
accordingly.
After this, his first business will be to see how it stands with his
summer lodgings; for he wants to be spared the trouble of finding a new
mansion if he can help it. Somewhere about, there is, perhaps, a
starling's tub or bucket, that some friends of his have placed on a tree
for his accommodation, in their garden or yard, after making a hole or
door by which he may enter.
But, dear me! what is his indignation, when he finds that a family of
saucy sparrows, going upon the old maxim of "might makes right," have
taken up their abode in his house, without so much as saying, "By your
leave"!
"Quit this!" cries the starling in tones that cannot be mistaken.
"Go away, you black rogue!" cries the sparrow. "I shall not quit this
nice house for you."
But the starling has a sharp bill, and he hits the poor sparrow with it.
Sparrow calls him all the hard names he can think of, and summons the
whole sparrow community to his assistance against the mean fellow who
has come to deprive him of his home.
The cries grow louder and wilder. Such an uproar of sparrows as there is
before the door! At last comes Madam Starling flying to the rescue; and
then the battle is quickly decided. The sparrows are driven off, and the
starlings remain in full possession.
[Illustration]
Madam Starling looks about with her clear, bright little eyes, and sees
that the troublesome sparrows have all gone away; and her faithful mate
lights on the topmost bough of a tree near by, and pours forth a song of
rejoicing and of triumph.
But soon the wind blows cold from the north. Ah! old Winter comes back a
moment or two just to see what Spring is about. The flakes descend on
their black coats; and the starlings come out from their little house,
and look about to see what's the matter.
Have they made a mistake? Oh, no! Soon the sun will be out. April has
come, and the snow will not last long. They first go to work, and clean
their little house, pitching out all the rubbish the sparrows have left
there.
Straw, feathers, and hay must now be got for a nice fresh nest. This
they soon make; and one day Madam Starling shows her mate five or six
clear blue eggs in the nest. For nearly sixteen days she must sit
brooding on these eggs; and then--what joy!--half a dozen bright little
starlings make their appearance.
But, dear me, how hungry they are! Father and mother have just as much
as they can do to feed them. The little ones seem to be crying all the
time for "more, more!" Will they never get enough?
In a few weeks the children grow so strong and sleek, that Papa Starling
says to them, "Now, boys and girls, you must learn to fly, and get your
own living. Come, tumble out!"
[Illustration]
So the young ones have to venture out; and soon they find they can pick
up worms and seeds enough for themselves. What joy to fly from tree to
tree! How pleasant to light among the green stalks and the flowers on
the warm summer days! The starlings have a merry time of it; and, when
winter comes, all they have to do is to fly southward.
No sooner are they gone than the sparrows again take possession of the
forsaken house, in great delight at having such a nice warm dwelling for
the winter.
ANNA LIVINGSTON.
[Illustration]
THE TEA-PARTY.
THE dolls had a tea-party: wasn't it fun!
In ribbons and laces they came, one by one.
We girls set the table, and poured out the tea;
And each of us held up a doll on our knee.
You never saw children behave half so well:
Why, nobody had any gossip to tell!
And (can you believe it?) for badness, that day,
No dolly was sent from the table away.
One dolly, however, the proudest one there,
Was driven almost to the verge of despair,
Because she had met with a simple mishap,
And upset the butter-plate into her lap.
The cups and the saucers they shone lily-white:
We helped all the dollies, they looked so polite.
We had cake and jam from our own pantry-shelves:
Of course, we did most of the eating ourselves.
But housewives don't know when their cares may begin.
The window was open, and pussy popped in:
He jumped on the table; and what do you think?
Down fell all the crockery there, in a wink.
We picked up the pieces, with many a sigh;
Our party broke up, and we all said good-by:
Do come to our next one; but then we'll invite
That very bad pussy to keep out of sight.
GEORGE COOPER.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE SPRAINED ANKLE.
HARRY has been a long, long time at the window, watching the boys as
they go past on their sleds. It is a bright afternoon, and they are
enjoying the coasting very much.
Harry draws a long sigh, which makes his mamma look up from her work,
and say,--
"I know it is hard for you, darling; but think what might have happened
to Johnny if you had not saved him."
Would you like to know what it is which keeps Harry in-doors while there
is so much fun outside?
Well, while he is counting the sleds as they go down the long hill in
front of the house, I will tell you.
It was on Saturday afternoon, a week ago. He was out coasting with the
other boys. Johnny Ware, a little fellow only five years old, was with
them.
Harry and several other boys were going very swiftly _down_ the hill as
Johnny was coming _up_.
"Get out of the way!" shouted one boy.
"Look out, Johnny, turn to the right!" cried another. But the little
fellow did not know which was _right_, and, being bewildered, stood
still. The sleds were almost upon him, and it seemed as if he _must_ be
run over, when Harry caught him, and threw him one side, but not in
season to save his own ankle.
It was badly sprained, and he had to be carried home. But when Harry
remembers the danger, and how near Johnny came to being run over, he
does not complain. He can even watch the boys cheerfully, and clap his
hands in joy as he hears their ringing laugh and merry shouts.
Johnny Ware is among them, but does not stay long. He comes into Harry's
house to warm his fingers. After standing by the stove a few minutes, he
comes to the window, and, slipping his little cold hand into Harry's,
says, "May I stay with you, Harry?"
Don't you think our little lame boy is happy now?
MARY MYRTLE.
[Illustration]
* * * * *
Transcriber's Note:
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.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Nursery, December 1873, Vol. XIV.
No. 6, by Various
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