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No. 107.
NOVEMBER, 1875.
Vol. XVIII.

THE
NURSERY

_A Monthly Magazine_

FOR YOUNGEST READERS.

BOSTON:
JOHN L. SHOREY, 36 BROMFIELD STREET.
AMERICAN NEWS CO., 119 NASSAU ST., NEW YORK.
NEW-ENGLAND NEWS CO., 41 COURT ST., BOSTON.
CENTRAL NEWS CO., PHILADELPHIA.
WESTERN NEWS CO., CHICAGO.

$1.60 a Year, in advance.
A single copy, 15 cents.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875,
by JOHN L. SHOREY, in the Office of the
Librarian of Congress at Washington.


CONTENTS OF NUMBER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                                        PAGE.
FLORA'S LOOKING-GLASS     By _Anna Livingston_           129
CHINESE SCENES     By _C.E.C._                           132
MINOS     By _Elizabeth Sill_                            134
GRANDMA'S GARDEN     By _M.A.C._                         136
GREAT-AUNT PATIENCE AND HER LITTLE LION     By _Mamma_   138
CROSSING THE BROOK                                       141
NELLIE'S LITTLE BROTHER      By _Mary Atkinson_          142
ANNIE'S WISH      By _George Bennett_                    144
A DRAWING LESSON                                         145
GRANDPA'S PIGS      By _Homer_                           146
CAPTAIN BOB      By _Emily Carter_                       149
PAPA CAN'T FIND ME      By _George Cooper_               151
THE SOLDIER-DOG      By _Pinky_                          152
THE SURPRISE      By _Ida Fay_                           153
LITTLE PEDRO      By _Cousin Emily_                      154
THE PARROT'S LAMENT      By _Jane Oliver_                156
WHAT THE DOVE LOST      By _Aunt Emmie_                  157
THE CHICKEN AND THE DOG      By _Uncle Charles_          158
GIRLS AND BOYS      (_Music by T. Crampton_)             160


       *       *       *       *       *

EDITOR'S PORTFOLIO.


... Now is the time for Canvassers to begin their operations for 1876.
Now is the time for our friends to show their good will. We count all
our subscribers as our friends; and all of them may do us a service by
renewing their subscriptions immediately. A blank form for that purpose
is furnished herewith, and there is plenty of room on it to add the
names of a few new subscribers. We hope that every old subscriber will
try to send us at least one new one.

... On the last page of our cover will be found the advertisement of
"THE NURSERY PRIMER," the most charming book for children, considering
its cheapness, that has yet been put upon the market. Look at it, see
the beautiful and apt engravings, one or more on every page, and you
will want at least a dozen copies to distribute among your little
friends at Christmas.

... We call attention, also, to the advertisement of "THE EASY BOOK" and
"THE BEAUTIFUL BOOK." No more useful or delightful books for beginners
in reading have appeared. These, with "The Nursery Primer." form a cheap
but elegant library for childhood.

... _Progress, improvement_, will be our motto in the future as they
have been in the past. "The Nursery," we can assure our readers, is
younger and more full of life than ever, notwithstanding its nine years.

... Unaccepted articles will be returned to the writers _if stamps are
sent with them_ to pay return postage. Manuscripts not so accompanied
will not be preserved, and subsequent requests for their return cannot
be complied with.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: Hand] ~New Subscribers for 1876, whose names and money
are sent us before December next, will receive the last two numbers of
1875 FREE.~

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: Hand] ~We want a special agent in every town in the
United States. Persons disposed to act in that capacity, are invited to
communicate with the publisher.~




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[Illustration: FLORA'S LOOKING-GLASS.]




FLORA'S LOOKING-GLASS.


On the edge of a thick wood dwelt a little girl whose name was Flora.
She was an orphan, and lived with an old woman who got her living by
gathering herbs.

Every morning, Flora had to go almost a quarter of a mile to a clear
spring in the wood, and fill the kettles with fresh water. She had a
sort of yoke, on which the kettles were hung as she carried them.

The pool formed by the spring was so smooth and clear, that Flora could
see herself in it; and some one who found her looking in it, one bright
morning, called the pool "Flora's Looking-Glass."

As Flora grew up, some of the neighbors tried to make her leave the old
woman, and come and live with them; but Flora said, "No: she has been
kind to me when there was no one to care for me, and I will not forsake
her now."

So she kept on in her humble lot; and the old woman taught her the names
of all the herbs and wild flowers that grew in the wood; and Flora
became quite skilful in the art of selecting herbs, and extracting their
essences.

There was one scarce herb that grew on the border of "Flora's
Looking-Glass." It was used in a famous mixture prepared by the old
woman; and, when the latter was about to die, she said to Flora, "Here
is a recipe for a medicine which will, some day, have a great sale. Take
it, and do with it as I have done."

Flora took the recipe, and the old woman died. But poor Flora was so
kind and generous a girl, that she gave the medicine away freely to all
the sick people; nor did she try to keep the recipe a secret.

So, though she was not made rich by it, she was made happy; and, as
weeks passed on, a man who was a doctor, and had known her father, came
to her, and said, "Come and live with me and my wife and daughters, and
I will send you to school, and see that you are well taught."

"But how can I pay you for it all?" asked Flora.

"The recipe will more than pay me," said the good doctor. "You shall
have a share in what I earn from it; and you shall help me make the
extract."

Flora now goes to school in winter; but in midsummer she pays frequent
visits to "Flora's Looking-Glass," and thinks of the kind old lady who
taught her so much about herbs and flowers.

ANNA LIVINGSTON.


[Illustration: A SHOT AT AN EAGLE.]




CHINESE SCENES.


I have two little girls here in China, who are constant readers of "The
Nursery." They think I can tell you little readers at home of some
pretty sights they see here. They have asked me so often to do so, that,
now they are tucked away for the night, I will try to please them.

In landing at Hong Kong, after a long voyage, it looks very odd to see
the water covered with small boats, or _sampans_, as the Chinese call
them. In each boat lives a family. It is their house and home; and they
seldom go off of it.

They get their living by carrying people to the ships, and by fishing.
They have a place in the bottom of the boat, where they sleep at night;
and, in cold weather, they shut themselves up in it to keep from
freezing. I went out in one of these boats a few days ago. The water was
very rough; and I was quite astonished, after being out some time, to
see a pair of bright eyes shining from below, through a small crack,
nearly under my feet.

Coming back, it was not quite so rough; and the owner of the bright
eyes--a little girl four years old, with a baby strapped on her
back--came "up topside," as they call up above. When the baby was fussy,
the girl would dance a little; and so the baby was put to sleep in this
peculiar fashion.

It is a very common sight to see a boatwoman rowing the boat, with her
baby strapped on her back. The child likes the motion, and is very
quiet. It must be very hard for the mother; but the Chinese women have
to endure more hardships than that, as I shall show you in future
numbers of "The Nursery."

In cold weather, these people must suffer very much, they are so poorly
clad. They put all the clothing they have on the upper part of their
body; and their legs and feet are hardly covered at all. Fortunately for
them, it is not very cold in this part of China.

[Illustration]

In Canton, there are many more boats than here; for the floating
population there is the largest in the world. I have seen as many as ten
children in one boat. The small ones have ropes tied around them: so, if
they fall into the water, they can be picked up easily.

A little fire in a small earthen vessel is all that these strange people
have to cook their food by. The poorer ones have nothing but rice to
eat, and consider themselves very fortunate if they get plenty of that.
Those better off have a great variety of food; and some of it looks
quite tempting; but the greater part is horrible to look at, and much
worse to smell.

All the men and boys have their hair braided in long cues. The women
have theirs done up in various styles; each province in China having its
own fashion. Neither women nor men can dress their own hair. The poorest
beggars in the street have their hair done up by a barber.

For the men there are street barbers, who shave heads on low seats by
the roadside; but, for the higher classes and the women, a barber goes
to their houses. The women's hair is made very stiff and shiny by a
paste prepared from a wood which resembles the slippery-elm. It takes at
least an hour to do up a Chinese woman's hair.

C.E.C.

HONG KONG, CHINA.




MINOS.


I read, the other day, an account, taken from an English paper, of a
wonderful little dog, called Minos. He knows more arithmetic than many
children. At an exhibition given of him by his mistress, he picked out
from a set of numbered cards any figure which the company chose to call
for. When six was called, for instance, he would bring it; and then, if
some one said, "Tell him to add twelve to it."--"Add twelve, Minos,"
said his mistress. Minos looked at her, trotted over to the cards, and
brought the one with eighteen on it.

Only once was he puzzled. A gentleman in the audience called out, "Tell
him to give the half of twenty-seven." Poor Minos looked quite
bewildered for a moment; but he was not to be baffled so. He ran off,
and brought back the card with the figure on it. Was not that clever?

He has photographs of famous persons, all of which he knows by name, and
will bring any one of them when told to. He can spell too; for when a
French lady in the company wrote the word "_esprit_," and handed it to
him, he first looked at it very hard, and then brought the letters, one
by one, and placed them in the right order.

When Minos was born, he was very sickly and feeble; and his mother would
not take care of him, and even tried to kill him. But little Marie
Slager, daughter of the lady who has him now, took him and brought him
up herself.

[Illustration]

From that time he was her doll, her playfellow, her baby. She treated
him so much like a child, that he really seemed to understand all that
was said to him. She even taught him to play a little tune on the piano.

Almost all performing animals are treated so cruelly while they are
being trained, and go through with their tricks in so much fear, that it
is quite sad to see them. But the best thing about Minos's wonderful
performances is, that they were all taught him by love and gentleness.

Remember this, boys, when you are trying to teach Dash or Carlo to fetch
and carry, or draw your wagon: there is no teacher so good as love.

ELIZABETH SILL.




[Illustration]

  GRANDMA'S GARDEN.


  This is the way; here is the gate,
    This little creaking wicket;
  Here robin calls his truant mate
    From out the lilac-thicket.
  The walks are bordered all with box,--
    Oh! come this way a minute;
  The snowball-bush, beyond the phlox,
    Has chippy's nest hid in it.
  Look at this mound of blooming pinks,
    This balm, these mountain daisies;
  And can you guess what grandma thinks
    The sweetest thing she raises?
  You're wrong, it's not the violet,
    Nor yet this pure white lily:
  It is this straggling mignonette,--
    I know you think it silly,--
  But hear my story; then, perhaps,
    You'll freely grant me pardon.
  (See how the spiders set their traps
    All over grandma's garden.)
  Long since I had a little friend,
    Dear as your darling sister,
  And she from over sea, did send
    This token, ere Death kissed her:
  'Twas in a box, a tiny slip,
    With word just how to set it:
  And now I kiss its fragrant tip,--
    You see I can't forget it.


[Illustration]


  Well, here I get thyme, sage, and mint,
    Sweet marjoram and savory;
  (Cook says they always give a hint
    Of summer, rich and flavory);
  Here's caraway--take, if you will:
    Fennel and coriander
  Hang over beds of daffodil,
    And myrtles close meander.
  What's next to come, one may not know--
    But then I like surprises:
  Just here, where tender roses blow,
    A tiger-lily rises.
  Here cock's-comb flaunts, and columbine
    Stands shaded by sweetbrier,
  And marigolds and poppies shine
    Like beds of glowing fire.
  A group of honest sunflowers tall
    Keep sentry in yon corner;
  And close beside them on the wall,
    The peacock, strutting scorner,
  Spreads out his rainbow plumes alone,
    Or stoops to pick a berry,
  Where briers climb the mossy stone
    Beneath those clumps of cherry.
  Now we'll turn back: you've seen but few
    Of my old-fashioned beauties,
  But take away a nosegay new
    To cheer you at your duties;
  Take <DW29>s and forget-me-nots;
    Pluck pinks, bluebells, and roses,
  And tell me if you know a spot
    Where flourish fairer posies.
  Grandma herself no lovelier ground
    This side of paradise has found.


                               M.A.C.

[Illustration]




GREAT-AUNT PATIENCE AND HER LITTLE LION.


"What relation is she to me?" said black-eyed Fred, as he heard his
mother say that her Aunt Patience was coming to visit them.

"She is your _great_-aunt," said mamma; "and I want you and Bertie to be
very polite to her."

The little boys had heard their mamma say that Aunt Patience was "a lady
of the old school," and that she was afraid the children would trouble
her, as they were not quite so still as the little boys and girls used
to be forty or fifty years ago.

So Fred and Bertie stood somewhat in awe of this Great-Aunt Patience;
and when the dear old lady arrived, and papa and mamma went to the cars
to meet her, the two boys were watching rather timidly for the carriage,
at the parlor-windows.

As she came up the steps, leaning on papa's arm, little Bertie
exclaimed, "Oh, see, Freddie! she is not _great_ at all: she is as
little as a girl."

"Yes, and she laughs too," said Fred; "and her eyes are as blue as
mamma's, and her hair as white as a snowdrift."

Just then, the driver took off a strange-looking thing from the
carriage, and brought it up the steps. It was an old-fashioned trunk,
covered with stiff, reddish-brown hair. The boys had never seen a hair
trunk, and it seemed to them, at the first glance, more like some kind
of an animal than a trunk.

Before they had a chance to examine it, their mamma called them to come
and kiss their aunt, which they did very politely, as they had been
directed. But her sweet face won their hearts at once; and Bertie
exclaimed, "Oh, you are not a _big_ Patience: you are a _little_ good
Patience, I know; and I am not a bit afraid of you!"

[Illustration]

"Bless your little heart, dear! what has mamma been telling you to make
you afraid of me?" said auntie with a merry laugh.

As soon as they could get away, the boys ran up stairs to see what the
driver had carried to their aunt's room. Fred discovered what it was as
soon as he opened the door; but Bertie, who was not yet four years old,
was greatly puzzled. "What can it be?" said he, keeping a safe distance
away from it.

Now, Fred liked to play tricks upon his little brother sometimes: so he
said, with pretended alarm, "Why, perhaps it is a young lion."

After this startling suggestion, Bertie did not wait an instant. He ran
as fast as his legs would carry him, screaming, "O mamma! there is a
young lion up stairs. O papa! do get your pistol, and shoot him." The
poor child was really in a great fright; and all the family ran at once
to see what could be the matter.

They met naughty Fred, laughing, but looking rather guilty. "Why, it is
only great Patience's trunk," said he. "Bertie thinks it is a lion."
Papa told Fred he did very wrong to frighten the boy so; but they all
had a good laugh at poor Bertie's mistake. Bertie was soon induced to
take a nearer look at his frightful little lion; and, when Aunt Patience
took out from it two or three quarts of chestnuts, it lost all its
terrors. The boys were allowed to play in the room as much as they
pleased; and the innocent hair trunk was made to do duty as a wolf, a
bear, a tiger, and various other wild beasts.

"I wish you would stay here a hundred years!" said little Bertie to his
aunt, one day. "I wish she would stay for ever and ever, and longer
too!" said Fred. "What do you go back to your old school for?" said
Bertie. "My school!" said Aunt Patience. "I have not any school, and
never had any."--"Why," exclaimed the little boy, "my mamma said you
were a lady of the old school!"

Then mamma and auntie had a merry laugh; and the boys were informed that
mamma only meant that Aunt Patience was a very polite lady of the olden
time.

The boys constantly forgot to call her "auntie," but remembered the
title of "great," and the precious old lady was just as well pleased to
have them call her "Great Patience."

When she bade them good-by, they both cried, though Fred was very
private about his tears; and both boys declared that the best visitors
they ever had were "Great Patience and her little red lion."

MAMMA.




[Illustration]

  CROSSING THE BROOK.


  Over the stepping-stones, one foot and then another;
  And here we are safe on dry land, little brother.




[Illustration]

NELLIE'S LITTLE BROTHER.


When Nellie was quite young, she lost her dear mother; and two sad years
passed by for the little girl. She used to go and look at her mother's
portrait, and wonder whether she could see Nellie, though Nellie could
not see her.

But, at last, her father gave her a new mother, who was so kind and
good, that Nellie loved her very much; though she never could forget her
first dear mother. One happy day, Nellie learned that a little brother
had been born. How glad she was then!

Some weeks passed by before Nellie was allowed to take the little fellow
in her arms; but, when she was permitted to do this, it seemed to her
that she had never felt such delight before. When he would put up his
tiny hands, and feel of her face, she was ready to weep with joy.

But one night the nurse was ill; and there was nobody to take care of
the baby. Nellie begged so hard to be allowed to sit up and attend to
it, that she was at last permitted to do so. She passed two hours,
watching baby as he slept, and thinking of the nice times she would
have with him when he grew up.

At last he awoke; and then Nellie gave him some milk from the porringer,
and tried to rock him to sleep again. But the little fellow wanted a
frolic: so she had to take him in her arms, and walk about the room with
him.

She walked and walked till it got to be twelve o'clock; and then she
stood in the faint lamplight, before the portrait of her own mother, and
it seemed as if the sweet face were trying to speak to her.

But Nellie was so very sleepy, that she hardly knew what she was about.
She walked, like one in a dream,--from the bed to the cradle, and from
the cradle to the bed,--and all at once baby seemed quiet, and she was
walking no longer.

At last she started up, and found she had been lying on the bed. The
faint light of the early dawn was coming through the eastern
window-panes. Where was baby? Oh! what had Nellie done with him? She
jumped from the bed, ran here and there, but could not find him.

At last she looked in the cradle, and there he was, lying snugly asleep.
Without knowing what she had done, she had put him in the cradle, and
had covered him up, and then, without undressing herself, had gone and
lain down on the bed. "Oh, you darling, you darling!" cried Nellie; but
the tears came to her eyes, and she could say no more.

MARY ATKINSON.

[Illustration]




  ANNIE'S WISH.


  "I wish I were a fairy,--
    A fairy kind and good,
  I'd have a splendid palace
    Beside a waving wood.
  And there my fairy minstrels
    Their golden harps should play;
  And little fairy birdies
    Should carol all the day.

  "A hundred fairy minions
    On my commands should wait;
  And want and pain should never
    Be known on my estate.
  I'd send my fairy heralds,
    To solace, soothe, and aid;
  And love and joy and pleasure
    Each dwelling should pervade."

  "But, ah! you're not a fairy,
    Dear little Sister Ann;
  So pray now be contented,
    And do the best you can.
  To parents, friends, and teachers,
    Be docile, true, and fond,
  And you will work more wonders
    Than with a fairy's wand."


                GEO. BENNETT.

[Illustration: Outline Drawing by MR. HARRISON WEIR, as a drawing lesson.]




[Illustration]

  GRANDPA'S PIGS.

  Mamma says that I am only
  a little boy; but I think I am
  quite big. I shall be six years
  old next May.

  Last summer, mamma took
  me to grandpa's, to stay a few
  weeks. When we got to the
  house, I asked grandpa if I
  might go with him every day
  to feed the pigs. He said,
  "Yes."

  So the next morning I went.
  There were four large pigs, and
  six little ones; and, when the
  food was put into the trough,
  they were all so eager to get it,
  that they kept tumbling over
  one another.

  One morning, there was not
  a pig in the pen. We hunted
  everywhere, but could not find
  them. At last, grandpa said,
  "They must be in the turnip-
  garden." Sure enough, there
  they were.

  The moment they saw us,
  they scampered; but, after a
  while, we got them all back in
  the pen. Then grandpa said
  he wanted to know how they
  got out: so we hid in the barn.

  By and by, an old pig peeped
  around, to see if anybody was
  watching. As he saw no one,
  he grunted, as much as to say,
  "All right," and started for a
  large hole beneath the fence.
  But, before he could get out,
  grandpa nailed a plank over
  the hole.

  I wanted a pig to take home
  with me; but grandpa said it
  would not live in the city.


                     HOMER.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]

CAPTAIN BOB.


At the hotel near the seaside, where I staid last summer, there was a
little fellow who was known to the guests as Captain Bob. He was from
the West, where he had never seen a large sheet of water. But, at his
first sight of old Ocean, he gave him his heart.

Old Ocean seemed to return the tender liking; for he was very kind to
Captain Bob, who was nearly all day at the seaside, running some sort of
risk. There was nobody to prevent his going in to swim as often as he
chose.

Nobody had taught Captain Bob to swim. How he learned he could not
explain. He was always ready to venture into a boat. He took to sculling
and rowing quite as naturally as a duck takes to swimming.

One morning, we were all made sad by the report that Captain Bob was
missing. He had not been seen since noon the previous day. Messengers
were sent in every direction to make inquiries after the captain.
Several persons said, that, the last they had seen of him, he was
standing by the big post on the wharf, with a little boat in his hand
that an old sailor had made for him.

Two days were at an end, and still there was no news of Captain Bob. His
parents and friends were greatly distressed. But, on the morning of the
third day, there was a shout from some of the gentlemen on the piazza;
and, on hastening to find out what was the matter, whom should I see but
Captain Bob, borne on the shoulders of two young men, and waving his cap
over his head.

Bob's story was this: A mackerel-schooner was anchored off shore; and
Bob had persuaded the sailor, who had given him the toy-boat, to take
him on board. The sailor had done this, not suspecting what was to
happen. A school of mackerel had been seen; and, as the breeze was fair,
the skipper spread all sail, and was soon five miles off shore.

The mackerel were so plenty that the fishermen made the most of their
luck, and did not return to the shore near the hotel till the third day.

"Did you have a good time, captain?" I asked.

"A _good_ time!" exclaimed Captain Bob. "It was the jolliest time I ever
had. You should have seen me pull in the fish."

After this adventure, Captain Bob was more of a hero than ever among the
people of the hotel.

EMILY CARTER.




[Illustration]

  "PAPA CAN'T FIND ME."


  No little steps do I hear in the hall;
  Only a sweet silver laugh, that is all.
  No dimpled arms round my neck hold me tight;
  I've but a glimpse of two eyes very bright.
  Two little hands a wee face try to screen:
  Baby is hiding, that's plain to be seen.
  "Where is my precious I've missed so all day?"
  "Papa can't find me!" the pretty lips say.

  "Dear me! I wonder where baby can be!"
  Then I go by, and pretend not to see.
  "Not in the parlor, and not on the stairs?
  Then I must peep under sofas and chairs."
  The dear little rogue is now laughing outright,
  Two little arms round my neck clasp me tight.
  Home will indeed be sad, weary, and lone,
  When papa can't find you, my darling, my own.


                                 GEORGE COOPER.




THE SOLDIER-DOG.


I have been reading in "The Nursery" the story about Mellie Hoyt and his
dog Major. My papa often tells me about another good old dog, named
Major. He was a soldier-dog, that papa knew when he went to the war.

Major was a kind dog to all his friends; but he would bark at strangers,
and sometimes he would bite them. He once tried to bite a steam-engine
as it came whistling by; but the engine knocked him off the track, and
almost killed him. He had never seen a steam-engine before, and he knew
better than to attack one after that. But he was not afraid of any thing
else.

When the soldiers went out to battle, Major would go with them, and bark
and growl all the time. Once, in a battle way down in Louisiana, Major
began to bark and growl as usual, and to stand up on his hind-legs. Then
he ran around, saying, "_Ki-yi, ki-yi_." By and by he saw a cowardly
soldier, who was running away; and he seized that soldier by the leg,
and would not let him go for a long time. He wanted him to go back and
fight.

Soon after this, Major began to jump up in the air, trying to bite the
bullets that whistled over his head. When a bullet struck the ground, he
would run and try to dig it out with his paws. At last he placed himself
right in front of an advancing line of soldiers, as much as to say,
"Don't come any further!" He seemed to think that he could drive them
back all alone.

By and by a bullet hit Major as he was jumping about; and he dropped
down dead. The soldiers all felt sad, and some of them cried. They
missed him like one of their comrades, and they had many to mourn for in
that dreadful battle. I hope there never will be another war.

PINKY.

PORTLAND, ME.




[Illustration]

THE SURPRISE.


"Whose hands are over your eyes? Guess quick."

"Old Mother Hubbard's?"

"Wrong: guess again."

"The good fairy's, Teenty Tawnty?"

"There are no fairies in this part of the country, and you know it.
Guess again."

"Well, I guess it is the old woman that lived in a shoe."

"She is not in these parts. I will give you one more chance. Who is it?"

"I think it must be little Miss Muffit,--the one who was frightened by a
spider."

"Nonsense! One would think you had read nothing but 'Mother Goose's
Melodies.'"

"Can it be Tom, Tom, the piper's son?"

"No, I never stole a pig in my life. Now give the right name this time,
or prepare to have your ears pulled."

"Oh, that would never do! I think it must be my cousin, Jenny Mason, who
is hiding the daylight from me."

"Right! Right at last! One kiss, and you may go."

IDA FAY.




[Illustration]

LITTLE PEDRO.


Pedro is a little Italian boy, who lives in Chicago. When I first knew
him, he was roaming about from house to house, playing on the fiddle,
and singing.

Sometimes kind persons gave him money, and then he always looked happy.
But many times he got nothing for his music, and then he was very sad;
for he lived with a cruel master, who always beat him when he came home
at night without a good round sum.

One day last spring, he had worked very hard; but people were so busy
moving, or cleaning house, that, when night came, he had very little
money. He felt very tired: so he went home with what he had.

But his cruel master, without stopping to hear a word from the little
fellow, gave him a whipping, and sent him out again. He came to my gate,
long after I had gone to bed, and played and sang two or three songs;
but he did not sing very well, for he was too tired and sleepy.

Just across the street, in an unfinished building, the carpenters had
left a large pile of shavings. Pedro saw this by the moonlight, as he
went along; and he thought he would step in and lie down to rest. His
head had hardly touched the pillow of shavings before he was asleep.

He dreamed about his pleasant home far away in Italy. He thought he was
with his little sisters, and he saw his dear mother smile as she gave
him his supper; but, just as he was going to eat, some sudden noise
awoke him.

He was frightened to find it was daylight, and that the sun was high in
the sky. In the doorway stood a kind gentleman looking at him. Pedro
sprang up, and took his fiddle; but the gentleman stopped him as he was
going out, and asked if that pile of shavings was all the bed he had. He
spoke so kindly, that Pedro told him his story.

The gentleman felt so sorry for him, and was so pleased with his sweet,
sad face, that he took him to his own home, and gave him a nice warm
breakfast; and, being in want of an errand-boy, he concluded to let
Pedro have the place.

Pedro has lived happily in his new home ever since; and, though he still
likes to play on his fiddle, he has no wish to return to his old
wandering mode of life.

COUSIN EMILY.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]

  THE PARROT'S LAMENT.


  Swinging in a gilded cage,
    Petted like a baby's doll,
  Thus I spend my dull old age,
    And you call me "Poll."
  But in youth I roved at will
  Through the wild woods of Brazil.

  When you ask me, "What's o'clock?"
    Or repeat some foolish rhyme,
  And I try your speech to mock,
    I recall the time
  When I raised my voice so shrill
  In the wild woods of Brazil.

  Sporting with my comrades there,
    How I flew from bough to bough!
  Then I was as free as air:
    I'm a captive now.
  Oh that I were roaming still
  Through the wild woods of Brazil!


                      JANE OLIVER.




[Illustration]

WHAT THE DOVE LOST.


Uncle Tom was walking slowly down the street, one sunny day, when he saw
a boy put his hand into a paper bag, take out a lemon, and throw it at a
plump gray pigeon that was trying to pick up some crumbs which had been
thrown out.

Poor little pigeon! He had been fluttering, off and on, over the
crumbs,--now scared away by a fast trotting-horse, now flying to a
door-post to get rid of some rapid walker,--and had only just alighted
to pick up his breakfast, when he was struck right in the back by the
bullet-like lemon.

Uncle Tom ran as quickly as he could, and took the panting little thing
up in his hand very gently. Just then the horse-car came along; and
uncle jumped into it, saying to himself, "I'll take this pigeon out to
little Emily. How she will dance and skip when she sees it!"

The car went on and on, ever so far away from Boston, and by and by was
half-way across a bridge. The pigeon had lain nestled under Uncle Tom's
coat; and the warmth seemed to make it feel better. First it put one
round bright eye out, then the other, and took a peep at the people
sitting near it.

Then, I think, its back must have ceased aching; for it grew lively, and
stirred around. Uncle Tom felt it moving, and was afraid that it would
presently try to get away: so he held it as close as he could without
hurting it.

But just as he thought how safe he had it, and how tame it would be when
it had lived with its little mistress a while, it popped its head out
again.

It popped so far out this time, that there was nothing to take hold of
but its tail-feathers. Uncle Tom clutched those firmly; but, to his
great astonishment, the pigeon gave another spring, and pulled itself
away, leaving all its beautiful tail-feathers behind it.

Away it flew, down the car, over the heads of the people, out of the
door, past the head of the conductor (who did not know that he had such
a strange passenger), and out over the water, back to Boston.

Uncle Tom was left with only a handful of dark-gray feathers to take
home with him; and little Emily had no pet pigeon, after all.

AUNT EMMIE.




THE CHICKEN AND THE DOG.


Tantalus, as the old Greek fable tells us, was King of Lydia. Being
invited by Jupiter to his table, he heard secrets which he afterwards
divulged. To divulge a secret is to make it vulgar, or common, by
telling it.

Poor Tantalus was punished rather severely for his offence; but he had
sinned in betraying confidence. Sent to the lower world, he was placed
in the middle of a lake, the waters of which rolled away from him as
often as he tried to drink of them.

Over his head, moreover, hung branches of fruit, which drew away, in
like manner, from his grasp, whenever he put forth his hand to reach
them. And so, though all the time thirsty and hungry, he could not, in
the midst of plenty, satisfy his desires.

Therefore we call it to tantalize a person to offer him a thing he longs
for, and then to draw it away from him.

[Illustration]

In the picture, a little chicken is looking up at a spider which sits
over her in the midst of its web. She watches it, hoping that it will
come so near to her little bill, that she can peck at it, and swallow
it.

But the spider is on its guard. To and fro it swings, letting itself
down a little bit, but never so far as to be in any danger; and then,
just as the enemy prepares to snap at it, it climbs nimbly into its
secure network.

The second Tantalus of our picture, the little dog, has, also, small
prospects of reaching the object on which his heart is set. At some
distance from him on the ground lies a bone, which he longs to get; but
the chain which fastens him, prevents his going near enough to seize it.
Both the dog and the chicken are _tantalized_, you see.

Let us keep down our desires, try to reach only what is fairly ours, be
content with little, and never betray confidence. Then shall we avoid
the fate of Tantalus.

UNCLE CHARLES.




[Illustration: Musical Score]

  GIRLS & BOYS

  T. CRAMPTON


  1. In all the land by field and town,
  The boys and girls go up and down.
  In all the land the girls and boys
  Wherever they go they make a noise.

  They play at cricket, tops and games,
  With balls that carry various names;
  They whirl the skipping rope, and drive
  The hoop till it appears alive.

  2. They thread the needle in the ring;
  They play at tea and visiting;
  Or woman poor from Sandyland,
  whose talk is hard to understand.

  Their lungs and limbs they freely use,
  They never mope or have the blues;
  And it is always half their joys
  In all their play to make a noise.

  3. They play at Hopscotch, marbles, dumps.
  And Fly the garter; oh! what jumps!
  From Tipcat quick away I fly
  For fear they'll hit me in the eye.

  In winter on the ice they go,
  And keep the pot a-boiling so,
  And tho' they shout and make a noise,
  Somehow, _I like these girls and boys_.




[Illustration: COLGATE & CO. NEW YORK]

VIOLET TOILET WATER.

CASHMERE BOUQUET EXTRACT.

CASHMERE BOUQUET Toilet Soap.

       *       *       *       *       *

~BOYS AND GIRLS~. Send 10 cents and stamp,
and receive 25 beautiful ~Decalomania~,
the height of parlor amusement, with full
instructions, new and novel, or send stamp for sample
to E.W. HOWARD & CO. P.O. Box 143, Chicago.

       *       *       *       *       *

~HOW~ TO CANVASS. To make Frames, Easels,
Passe, Picture Books, etc. Send two stamps
for book and designs. J. JAY GOULD, Boston, Mass.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration]

~AGENTS WANTED.~

Men or women. $34 a week. Proof
furnished. Business pleasant and honorable
with no risks. A 16 page circular
and Valuable Samples free. A postal-card
on which to send your address
costs but one cent. Write at once to
F.M. REED, 8th st., NEW YORK

       *       *       *       *       *

 ~NOTICE.~

Any of the following articles will be sent by mail, postpaid
on receipt of the price named:--

[Illustration]

                                      PRICE

~Fret, or Jig-Saw~, for fancy wood-carving.
With 50 designs, 6 saw-blades, Impression-paper,
&c.                                   ~$1.25~

~Fuller's Jig-Saw Attachment~ by the aid
of which the use of the Saw is greatly
facilitated. (See advertisement on another
page)                                  ~1.50~

~Hollywood Designs~ for Amateur Wood-Carvers,
ready for cutting, twenty patterns
in a box, for                           ~.75~

~New Spelling Blocks~                  ~1.00~

~Picture Cubes~, For the Playroom      ~1.50~

~Initial Note-Paper and Envelopes~      ~.50~
      "         "             "         ~.75~
      "         "             "        ~1.00~
      "         "             "        ~1.50~
~Boys and Girls Writing-Desk~          ~1.00~


~The Kindergarten Alphabet and Building Blocks~, Painted:
  Roman Alphabets, large and small letters, numerals, and animals   ~.75~
        "                  "                   "         "         ~1.00~
        "                  "                   "         "         ~1.50~

~Crandall's Acrobat or Circus Blocks~, with which hundreds of queer,
fantastic figures may be formed by any child                       ~1.15~

~Table-Croquet~. This can be used on any table--making a Croquet-Board, at
trifling expense                                                   ~1.50~

~Game of Bible Characters and Events~                               ~.50~

~Dissected Map of the United States~                                1.00~

Books will be sent at publishers' prices.

JOHN L. SHOREY,

Publisher of "The Nursery."

36 Bromfield Street, Boston, Mass.




~THE NURSERY.~


PREMIUM-LIST FOR 1876.


For ~three~ new subscribers, at $1.60 each, we will give any one of the
following articles: a heavily gold-plated pencil-case, a rubber
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---> ~Any other articles equally easy to transport may be selected as
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BOOKS for premiums may be selected from any publisher's catalogue: and
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~MARSHALL'S ENGRAVED PORTRAITS OF LINCOLN AND GRANT.~

Either of these large and superbly executed steel engravings will be
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*.* Do not wait to make up the whole list before sending. Send the
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Address

~JOHN L. SHOREY,

36 Bromfield Street, Boston, Mass.~

~THE NURSERY.~

       *       *       *       *       *

~TERMS--1876.~


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~JOHN L. SHOREY,

36 Bromfield Street, Boston, Mass.~

"Truly a Treasure of Delight for the Little Ones."

"Not only a Primer, but a Superb Present for a Child."


~Ready Nov. 20, 1875,~

~THE NURSERY PRIMER.~

~Beautifully Bound, in Boards.~

SIXTY-FOUR PAGES OF THE SIZE OF "THE NURSERY."

Every Page Richly Illustrated.

~PRICE ONLY 30 CENTS!~

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~EXTRACT FROM THE PREFACE.~

"We can confidently claim that no Primer or First Book for Children has
yet appeared, either in Europe or America, which, in the variety,
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~Price 30 Cents. A single copy by mail for 30 Cents. Six Copies sent by
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---> Dealers wanting a cheap, but truly elegant work for children, to
place on their counters the coming holidays, should order at once.

Address

~JOHN L. SHOREY,

36 Bromfield Street, Boston, Mass.~





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Nursery, No. 107, November, 1875,
Vol. XVIII., by Various

*** 