Project Gutenberg's The Nursery, November 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 5, by Various
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Title: The Nursery, November 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 5
Author: Various
Release Date: March 29, 2008 [EBook #24942]
Language: English
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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.
The Aunt and the Niece 129
Dreadfully cheated 132
A Bad Blow 135
Paul 137
Little Piggy 140
Camping Out 141
A Field-Day with the Geese 144
Learn to think 147
Grandpa and the Mouse 151
The Speckled Hen 154
Story of a Daisy 156
IN VERSE.
PAGE.
Summer's over 134
The Anvil Chorus 136
The Cat and the Book 139
What Willy did 146
The Brothers that did not quarrel 150
Home from the Woods 153
Winifred Waters (_with music_) 160
[Illustration: THE AUNT AND THE NIECE.]
THE AUNT AND THE NIECE.
[Illustration: A]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.
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.
"Aunt Ruth," said Mary, "have you any objection to my going out in the
grove to swing?"
"None at all, my dear," said Ruth; "but I will go with you, lest you
should get hurt."
"Thank you, aunty," replied Mary. "Now let us see who can run the
faster."
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."
"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!"
"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."
"It is indeed lovely," exclaimed Mary. "You must teach me all about
these wild flowers, aunty; for we city girls have few opportunities of
seeing them."
"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."
Mary burst out into a laugh that she could not control.
"Why, what are you laughing at, my dear?" asked Aunt Ruth.
But Mary, to escape replying to the question, ran and took hold of the
swing. "Now for it, aunty!" said she.
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.
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."
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.
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.
EMILY CARTER.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
DREADFULLY CHEATED.
"UNCLE," 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."
"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.
"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."
"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."
Now, for all George called Watch "clumsy" and "lazy," he was very fond
of him; and many a nice frolic they had together.
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.
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.
"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."
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?"
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.
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."
AUNT TUTIE.
SUMMER'S OVER.
SUMMER'S over, summer's over!
See, the leaves are falling fast;
Flowers are dying, flowers are dying,
All their beauty's gone at last.
Now the thrush no longer cheers us;
Warbling birds forget to sing;
And the bees have ceased to wander,
Sipping sweets on airy wing.
Winter's coming, winter's coming!
Now his hoary head draws near;
Winds are blowing, winds are blowing;
All around looks cold and drear.
Hope of spring must now support us;
Winter's reign will pass away;
Flowers will bloom, and birds will warble,
Making glad the livelong day.
T. C.
[Illustration]
A BAD BLOW.
LITTLE 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.
Little David ran down the steps to see who it was.
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.
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.
A cloud of fine black pepper flew up into his mouth, nose, and eyes. How
he did sneeze and strangle and cry!
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.
When he stopped crying, she said, "Little David, DON'T MEDDLE."
D. D. H.
[Illustration]
THE ANVIL CHORUS.
CLINK, clink, clinkerty clink!
That is the tune at morning's blink;
And we hammer away till the busy day,
Weary like us, to rest doth sink.
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
From useful labor we will not shrink;
But our fires we'll blow till the forges glow
With a lustre that makes our eyelids wink.
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
A chain we'll forge with many a link:
We'll pound each form while the iron is warm,
With blows as rapid as one may think.
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
Our faces may be as black as ink;
But our hearts are as true as man ever knew:
Kindly on all we look and think.
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
OXFORD'S JUNIOR SPEAKER.
[Illustration]
PAUL.
"FOUR 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."
He put on the coat. It took some time.
"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."
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.
"Don't cry, child," said Jane, shaking the dust from him. "Come now, and
have a ride on the rocking-horse."
"He's too slow for me," cried Paul loudly; "and a man of my age won't be
_shooken_, Jane!"
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.
"Don't go off the bricks, child," said Jane, opening a window.
"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.
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.
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.
"Here, Fido, go catch fish!" he cried, pointing to the water.
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.
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.
"Poor dog, he will drown!" said a lady upon the bridge.
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.
"Dear Fido, don't die!" sobbed Paul, stretching out his hands; but he
lost his balance, and fell into the water.
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.
"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.
HELEN C. PEARSON.
[Illustration: ]
THE CAT AND THE BOOK.
OH, dear me! what a deal of knowledge
It must take to read books, and fit for college!
But, if cats are not able to read a single letter,
They can catch mice, and climb trees; and is not that better?
Now, if these little rhymes are not wholly to your taste,
Bear in mind they are supposed to be by a cat, and written in haste.
LITTLE PIGGY.
ONE 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.
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.
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.
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.
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?"
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,
"_He was the knowingest little piggy she ever seed!_"
T. C.
[Illustration]
CAMPING OUT.
ALBERT 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.
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.
One day last autumn, his papa and mamma went over on the Neosho River,
in the Indian Territory (you must look on the map and see where that
is), to gather some hickory-nuts and walnuts. Of course they took Albert
with them.
[Illustration]
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.
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.
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.
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.
He walked on bravely at first; but by and by, as he saw 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.
[Illustration]
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.
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.
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.
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.
GRACE MOEREN.
[Illustration]
A FIELD-DAY WITH THE GEESE.
JOSEPH 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
[Illustration]
It would have pleased you to see the meeting. The instant the goose
heard Grim's familiar bark, she started up, 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.
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.
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.
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.
UNCLE CHARLES.
WHAT WILLY DID.
WHEN the gas was lighted,
Willy's mamma said,
"Maggie, feed the children,
And put them both to bed."
When the milk was eaten,
Maggie went for more:
So she put the baby
Down upon the floor.
Then the naughty Willy
Climbed up for a match,
And he lit it quickly
With a little scratch.
But it burnt his fingers
When the flame arose,
And suddenly he dropped it
On the baby's clothes.
Up it blazed so fiercely,
That, when Maggie came,
There was little baby
Screaming in the flame.
Maggie put the fire out,
And saved the baby too;
But Willy was so frightened
He knew not what to do.
He was sorry, too, for baby,
With arms all burnt and sore;
And so he never meddled
With matches any more.
H. F. W.
[Illustration]
LEARN TO THINK.
WALTER DANE 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.
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."
"Try me, mother," said Walter. "I will do my best."
"Then, I will put you a question which is not in the book," said mamma.
"Which is the heavier,--a pound of feathers, or a pound of lead?"
"A pound of lead, to be sure!" cried Walter confidently.
"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."
"When I spoke, I was thinking that Tom Burton was out in the yard
waiting for me," said Walter.
"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?"
"A noun is a word used as the name of any object."
"Very well. A noun, then, is a name-word."
"But why is not every word a name-word just the same?" asked Walter.
"Different sorts of words have different uses," said Mrs. Dane. "If I
say, '_Walter, come here_,' by the word _Walter_, I name an object or
person; and it is therefore a name-word, or noun. _Noun_ means _name_.
By the word _come_, I tell Walter what to do; and therefore _come_ is a
different sort of word from a name-word. _Come_ is a verb. By the word
_here_, I tell Walter _where_ he must come; and so _here_ is a different
sort of word from both _Walter_ and _come_. _Here_ is an adverb."
"But, if I say '_Come_,' do I not name something?" asked Walter.
"You certainly do not. What thing do you name? _Come_ is not an object
or thing; _come_ is not a person. You cannot say, 'Give me a _come_,' or
'Let me see a _come_.'"
"But _dog_ is a name-word, and _tree_ is a name-word," cried Walter. "I
can say, 'Give me a dog,' 'Let me see a tree;' can I not?"
"You certainly can, my son," said Mrs. Dane.
"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?"
"Yes: I think you begin to see now what a _noun_ is. And let me say one
thing more, and then you may run to see Tom Burton."
"What is it, mother?" inquired Walter.
"When your uncle gave you a box of mixed shells last winter, what did
you do with them?"
"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."
"And just so we ought to treat words. We must first _sort_ 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."
UNCLE CHARLES.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE BROTHERS THAT DID NOT QUARREL.
TWO little brothers, loving fair weather,
Played on the meadow, played there together;
Yet not quite lonely were they that day
On the bright meadow, while at their play.
Six little swallows came and flew round,
Over the tree-tops, over the ground;
Butterflies, also, did not disdain
Near them to flutter, glad to remain.
There on the herbage tender and green
Might these two brothers, playful be seen:
Never they quarrelled; no angry words,
Hastily uttered, shocked the dear birds.
All through the daytime there the two played,
Sometimes in sunshine, sometimes in shade.
"And did not quarrel? Please stop your shams!"
"I tell you truly. Why, they were _lambs_!"
IDA FAY.
[Illustration]
GRANDPA AND THE MOUSE.
GRANDPA CRANE 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.
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.
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.
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.
When he had been there a long while, he would get his 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
AUNT EMMIE.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
HOME FROM THE WOODS.
IT rains! and, hark! the rushing wind
Begins to moan and blow:
Take jug and basket, and come on.
For we have far to go.
Don't fret and whimper, little one;
Here, my umbrella take:
The birds heed not the pouring rain;
Just hear the songs they make!
And see how glad are leaf and bud
To get each cooling drop:
Come, soon it will be bright again,
For soon the rain will stop.
FROM THE GERMAN.
THE SPECKLED HEN.
[Illustration]
THE speckled hen walked all around the house, and saw the front-door
open. So she walked right in, and went up stairs.
She peeped into the front-chamber, pecked a little at the carpet, and
clucked with surprise when she saw herself in the looking-glass.
[Illustration]
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.
[Illustration]
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.
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.
[Illustration]
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."
W. O. C.
[Illustration]
STORY OF A DAISY.
DEEP 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.
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.
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.
"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.
[Illustration]
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."
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.
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.
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.
But one day, when she returned from a week's visit to her aunt, Emma
missed her darling daisy-plant. "O papa!" cried she, "somebody has
taken it away,--my precious daisy."
[Illustration]
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!
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.
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!"
Yes, papa had found it on the rubbish, had washed it from dirt, and
clipped off its broken leaves, and put it into a pretty little
flower-pot with some fine rich mould; and there was daisy as brisk and
bright as ever.
[Illustration]
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.
One day, while Emma was in the parlor with her father and mother, Dr.
Ware came in.
"I need not come again," he said: "I am here now to say good-by. You
will not want any more of my medicines."
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."
"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.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Music]
WINIFRED WATERS.
Music by T. CRAMPTON.
1. Winifred Waters sat and sighed
Under a weeping willow;
When she went to bed she cried,
Wetting all the pillow;
Kept on crying night and day,
Till her friends lost patience;
"What shall we do to stop her, pray?"
So said her relations.
2. Send her to the sandy plains,
In the zone called torrid;
Send her where it never rains,
Where the heat is horrid.
Mind that she has only flour
For her daily feeding;
Let her have a page an hour
Of the driest reading.
3. When the poor girl has endured
Six months of this drying,
Winifred will come back quite cured,
Let us hope, of crying.
Then she will not day by day
Make those mournful faces,
And we shall not have to say,
"Wring her pillow cases."
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes:
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
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, November 1873, Vol. XIV.
No. 5, by Various
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NURSERY, NOV. 1873, VOL.XIV NO.5 ***
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