The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Nursery, April 1877, Vol. XXI. No. 4

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Title: The Nursery, April 1877, Vol. XXI. No. 4

Author: Various

Release date: February 20, 2009 [eBook #28132]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online

Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. Music

by Linda Cantoni.

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, APRIL 1877, VOL. XXI. NO. 4 ***

THE

NURSERY

A Monthly Magazine

FOR YOUNGEST READERS.

VOLUME XXI.—No. 4.

BOSTON:

JOHN L. SHOREY, No. 36 BROMFIELD STREET,

1877.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by

JOHN L. SHOREY,

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

FRANKLIN PRESS:

RAND, AVERY, AND COMPANY,

117 FRANKLIN STREET,

BOSTON.

IN PROSE.

"Why did Elfrida go to Sleep?"

97

The Prairie-Dog

100

Strut

101

Third Lesson in Astronomy

103

The Robbery

104

The Little Recruit

107

One good turn deserves another

109

A Letter from Texas

110

Drawing-Lesson

113

A Story of a Seal

114

Fun in Winter

117

Old Whitey

118

Why do they all Love Freddy?

122

My Rabbits

125

The Council of Buzzards

127

IN VERSE.

The Caterpillars

102

Puss and her Three Kittens

106

Fred and Ned

120

How the Morning comes

124

A Mother Goose Melody (with music)

128

"WHY DID ELFRIDA GO TO SLEEP?"

"WHY DID ELFRIDA GO TO SLEEP?"

HAT was the question, "Why did Elfrida go to sleep?" She had been sent to the grocer's in the village; and the grocer's was only half a mile off from Brook Cottage, where she lived with her aunt and five cousins. She had been sent to buy a pound of sugar, half a pound of coffee, and five small rolls of bread.

Usually she would go to the shop and return in less than half an hour. Now a whole hour went by, and no Elfrida was to be seen. What could be the matter? Had she run a thorn into her foot, and been lamed? Had she stopped to talk with the children on their way home from school? Had she been run over by a fast horse?

"Let us go and find her," cried James, the eldest of the three boys. "Let us all go!" echoed Susan, his youngest sister. "Shall Sport go with us?" asked Emma. "By all means!" said James. "Here, Sport, Sport! Where are you, old fellow?" A big black-and-white Newfoundlander soon rushed frisking in, wagging his tail, and seeming ready to eat up every one of the children, just to show them how fond he was of them all.

Then the children all set out for Mr. Spicer's shop. There they learned that no Elfrida had been seen in the shop that afternoon. "Where can she be?" cried James, a little anxious. "Sport, where is Elfrida?"

Sport stopped his nonsense of playing with a stick, and began to look serious. Then he made a bee-line for the nearest turning on the right, on the way home. This was an old lane, on which some old gardens backed, and which led, by a little longer way, to Brook Cottage.

By the time the children had arrived at the head of the lane, Sport was seen galloping back in a state of great excitement. "Bow-wow!"—"Oh, you have found her, have you, old fellow?"—"Bow-wow!"—"Well and good! You are a jolly old Sport!"

On the step of the gate of an old garden sat Elfrida, fast asleep, with her empty basket in her lap. Emma proposed to tickle her nose with a straw. "No! I will pull that thick braid of hair," said Susan. "No! let me whisper in her ear," said James. But, before anybody did any thing, Sport settled the question by putting his paws up on her shoulders, and crying, "Bow-wow!"

Elfrida started, and looked around as if in a dream. "What does it mean? How long have I been here?" cried she. "Why did you go to sleep?" asked the two girls. "Yes, why, why, did you go to sleep?" echoed all the boys. "Oh, that's my secret," said Elfrida. "Now who can catch me in my run to Mr. Spicer's?" So off she started, followed by Sport and all the children.

"Now tell us why did you go to sleep?" said the children, as they were all on their way home, after she had made her purchases. "Will you promise not to tell anybody, if I tell you?" asked Elfrida. "We promise, we promise!" cried all the children. "Now, then, why did you go to sleep?"—"Hush! I went to sleep because—because—because I was sleepy," said Elfrida.

ARTHUR SELWYN.

THE PRAIRIE-DOG

MY friend John lives in Colorado, not far from Denver; and he writes me, that he and his sister, not long ago, walked out to see some prairie-dogs.

The prairie-dog is about the size of a full-grown squirrel, and of a like color. It makes a hole for itself in the ground. This hole is in the shape of a tunnel, and as large round as a man's hat.

Now, this little dog is so gentle, that he lets the owl and the rattlesnake come and live with him, if they like. All three are often found dwelling together. For my part, I should not much like such neighbors.

The prairie-dogs live on the roots of grass. Scattered all around the entrance to their homes, you may see remnants of the dry roots which they have got for food. They are quick in their movements, and quite playful.

Johnny writes me, that, when some of these little dogs saw him and his sister approaching, they sat down on their hind-legs, and began barking. Then they dropped into their holes backwards. As Johnny did not care to wake up any of the other lodgers, he and his sister went home, well content with their first sight of a prairie-dog.

AUNT ALICE.

STRUT

STRUT was the name of a hen that lived on Father Nunn's farm, nine miles from Norwalk, Ohio.

She was very vain; that is, she had a very good opinion of herself. She always would strut when walking. Indeed, it was hard for her to pick up grains of corn as other chickens did. I think she never saw her feet in her life: certainly she never looked where she stepped.

Worse than all this, when she saw any person in the yard, instead of dodging away, as a modest hen should, she would strut right up to such a person, and look saucily in his face, as though asking, "Who are you? Where are you going? What for?"

At last, however, Strut received a severe rebuke for her evil ways. Cousin William Bird, who is soon to be a doctor, was visiting at Father Nunn's. Having occasion to climb the ladder to the barn-loft, he saw Strut on the farther side. He knew that she would come straight to him; and he also knew that she would not look where she stepped. So he held still to see what would happen; for exactly between them was an opening in the floor for throwing down hay.

Sure enough, Strut started for Cousin William, and, stepping off the edge of the hole, fell fluttering, cackling, and frightened, to the floor beneath.

She was humbled by her fall; for she never strutted again, but walked and ate afterwards like other chickens.

UNCLE JOE.

THE CATERPILLARS

EIGHT great cabbages growing in the ground;

Crowds of little caterpillars crawling all around;

Caterpillars squirmed about, and wriggled in the sun;

Said, "These cabbages look sweet: suppose we taste of one!"

Down flew a hungry bird, coming from the wood,

Saw the caterpillars there, and said, "Won't those taste good!"

Up crept pussy-cat, hunting round for mice,

Saw the bird, and smacked her lips, and said, "Won't he taste nice!"

Dog saw pussy creeping there, and he began to run,

Said, "Now I will frighten puss, and then there will be fun!"

So doggy barked; and pussy hid; and birdie flew away;

And caterpillars lived to eat a cabbage up that day.

FLETA F.

THIRD LESSON IN ASTRONOMY

I HAVE told you about the sun and the stars. Can you think of any thing else in the sky that you would like to know a little about? Of course, I do not mean the dark clouds, but something bright and pretty, that all children love to look at.

I think you must have guessed that I mean the moon,—the beautiful moon. Now, I want you to make another guess: Is the moon bright because it is made of fire, like the sun; or because the sun shines on it, as it does on Venus and Jupiter?

If any of you think it is made of fire, you must try to warm your little toes and fingers in the moonlight, as you do in the sunshine, and you will find out for yourselves that it is not a great fire, like the sun, and that you cannot get warm in the light of it.

And now you will guess at once, that, if it is not fire itself, it must shine from the sun's fire; and that is right. The moon itself is cold and dark. It is the light of the sun that makes it look bright to us. We might call it the sun's looking-glass, in which we see his image or reflection.

But we cannot at all times see the whole of it. When we do, we call it a full moon, and, when we see only the edge of it, we say it is a new moon. The moon itself does not change its shape. It is always round, like an orange—a dark round ball, which we should never see at all, if the sun did not light it up for us; and it is only a part of the time we can see the side which is lighted up.

Which do you suppose is the larger,—the moon, or the stars? Now I know you will say the moon, because it looks so much larger; but you must remember that the stars are so far away, we can hardly see them at all, and the moon is our own moon, and much nearer to us than our own sun.

We can see more of it than we can see of the stars; but it is a very small thing indeed, compared with one of them. It would take about fifty moons to make one such earth as we live on, and it would take more earths than you can count to make one star or sun.

M. E. R.

THE ROBBERY.

I MUST tell you of something that happened one day last summer, when I was at the Zoölogical Garden in Philadelphia.

Among the persons standing around the cage where the monkeys were kept, was an old lady who had on a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. All at once, a big brown monkey stretched out his paw between the bars, snatched the spectacles, and scampered away, chattering and grinning with delight.

Of course, the poor lady was in distress. The keeper came to the rescue, and, by driving the monkey about the cage with a long pole, forced him at last to drop the spectacles. But one of the glasses had come out of it; and this the thief still held in his mouth, and refused to give up.

The keeper followed him sharply with the pole. Away he went, swinging from one rope to another, screaming and scolding all the time, until the keeper was so tired, that I feared he would have to let the monkey keep the glass. But this the keeper said would never do; for he knew, that, if he let the monkey carry the day, he never could control him again.

So the keeper still plied his pole. The monkey dodged it as well as he could, until the blows came so thick and fast, that he could bear them no longer, when he opened his mouth, and let the glass drop.

Now comes the funniest part of the story. The glass fell quite near the bars, just where the old lady was standing; and a gentleman took her parasol, which had a hooked handle, to draw it within reach. But he put the parasol in a little too far, and it slipped out of his hand.

Instantly a large yellow monkey wrapped his long tail around it, and started off. Imagine the feelings of the poor old lady—first robbed of her spectacles, and then of her parasol!

But her property was all recovered at last; the robbers were both punished; and she went on her way in peace.

MRS. E. S. R.

PUSS AND HER THREE KITTENS.

OUR old cat has kittens three;

What do you think their names should be?

One is a tabby with emerald eyes,

And a tail that's long and slender;

But into a temper she quickly flies,

If you ever by chance offend her.

I think we shall call her this—

I think we shall call her that;

Now, don't you fancy "Pepper-pot"

A nice name for a cat?

One is black, with a frill of white,

And her feet are all white fur, too;

If you stroke her, she carries her tail upright,

And quickly begins to purr, too.

I think we shall call her this—

I think we shall call her that;

Now, don't you fancy "Sootikin"

A nice name for a cat?

One is a tortoise-shell, yellow and black,

With a lot of white about him:

If you tease him, at once he sets up his back:

He's a quarrelsome Tom, ne'er doubt him!

I think we shall call him this—

I think we shall call him that;

Now, don't you fancy "Scratchaway"

A nice name for a cat?

Our old cat has kittens three,

And I fancy these their names will be:

"Pepper-pot," "Sootikin," "Scratchaway,"—there!

Were there ever kittens with these to compare?

And we call the old mother—now, what do you think?

"Tabitha Longclaws Tiddleywink."

THOMAS HOOD.

THE LITTLE RECRUIT.

THERE had been an insurrection in Dolldom. Insurrection is a big word: what does it mean, I wonder? I will tell you: it means an uprising, a rebellion. If a number of persons should refuse to obey the law, and rise up in arms to resist it, they would be guilty of an insurrection.

Now, it happened (according to Tommy's story) that all the dolls in the house, headed by a naughty male doll of African descent, and known as "Dandy Jim," rose in insurrection against their lawful queen, Lucy the First, whose brother, Duke Tommy, was commander-in-chief of her Majesty's forces.

The rebels were well fortified in one corner of the play-room. They had mounted several cannon on alphabet-blocks; and a whole company of tin soldiers defended the outworks. Besides this, a china dog and a wooden elephant had been enlisted as allies, and stood bravely in front.

General Tommy felt a weight of responsibility upon his shoulders, and, like a prudent soldier, he resolved not to go into battle until his army was large enough to make victory certain. So he enlisted Queen Lucy the First as a recruit.

Queen Lucy looked very grand in her paper cocked hat, with a feather at the top. She carried a gun; and General Tommy taught her how to fire it off. When all were ready for the onset, he blew a trumpet.

The army marched in excellent order along the entry, into the play-room; and not a soldier drew back as they came within sight of the enemy. "Halt!" cried General Tommy. The army halted. The traitor, "Dandy Jim," stood pointing his sword, and the dolls all kept still.

One long blast of the trumpet, and then the brave General Tommy cried out, "Now, soldiers, on, on to victory!"

On they went. The tin soldiers were soon swept down. The dog and the elephant were handsomely beaten; and, rushing into the fort, General Tommy seized the traitor, "Dandy Jim," by the throat, and said, "Now, sir, your doom is a dungeon!"

The dolls all fell on their knees, and thus was the great insurrection in Dolldom put down without bloodshed, and the authority of Queen Lucy the First fully restored. Of course, there was great rejoicing; and, when the reporter left, General Tommy was preparing for a grand illumination.

EMILY CARTER.

ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER.

ON a fine summer day, a dove, that was perched upon the branch of a tree, saw a bee fall into a stream that was flowing past. The poor bee tried to get out of the water, but could not.

The dove, seeing that the bee was struggling for her life, dropped a leaf close beside her, so that she might climb on to it, and save herself. This the bee at once did, and very glad she was to find herself safe once more.

Not long after this, a sportsman, who was roaming through the woods for game, saw the dove flying about, and lifted his gun to shoot her. But, just as he was taking aim, something happened, that checked him in the act.

The bee, whose life had been saved by the dove, was going about from flower to flower in search of honey, when she saw the sportsman taking aim at the good dove that had befriended her in her time of need. "That dove once saved my life, and now I will save hers," thought the bee to herself.

With that she flew at the sportsman, and stung him on the lip. The poor fellow dropped his gun with a loud cry of pain, which so startled the dove, that she flew away; and the man did not have another chance to shoot her. "Surely one good turn deserves another," thought the bee, as she turned merrily to her work.

LEONORA.

A LETTER FROM TEXAS.

Dear Children,—I am writing this letter at my office-desk in San Antonio, Texas, a long way off from some of you who will read it. I am the big brother of a lot of little ones, and they call me "Doc."

We take "The Nursery," and the little folks think it is splendid. As soon as it comes, mamma reads the stories, and shows them the pictures.

They crowd around her to listen: some of them sit down on chairs like little ladies; some sit on the floor like beggars; and some—I am sorry to say—lie flat down on the carpet, like—certainly not like ladies and gentlemen.

What do you think, children, of boys and girls who lie on the floor, and kick up their heels in the air? You would not do so, would you?

Now listen! I want to tell you something about our cat. When we first got her, she was a tiny kitten, and we fed her on milk in a saucer. You ought to have seen her lap it up with her little tongue! Don't you think it is a pretty sight to see a kitten drinking milk? I do. But our cat isn't a kitten any longer, but a great, big, grown cat.

Well, the other night she got locked up in the schoolroom. You know Miss Anna and Miss Emma teach a big school in our house, and Willie, Pressley, Eddie, May, and Emily go to it. Sadie, "Little Lalla," and baby are too young for school yet. These are my little brothers' and sisters' names. There are eight of them mentioned here. See if you can count them.

As soon as Emily found out that Kitty was locked up, she ran to Miss Eliza and mamma, and asked them to let her out; but they said, "No," for they knew that, if she got out of the schoolroom, she would surely run into the dining-room, and drink up the baby's milk. So she had to stay there all night.

Early next morning, Miss Eliza went into the schoolroom to let Kitty out; and what do you think she saw? There was Kitty, fast asleep in Willie's little wagon, and four little kittens lying by her side, fast asleep too.

When Miss Eliza went back to the nursery, and told the children what she had seen, Eddie, May, Emily, Sadie, and even "Little Lalla" set up a big shout, and, bursting out of the nursery, ran shouting and laughing to the little wagon in the schoolroom, where, sure enough, there they were, four little ones. Three were gray and white, and one gray and black. Kitty looked so pleased and so happy! You ought to have seen her. Wasn't that a nice surprise?

May chose the one that looked most like Kitty: Emily and Sadie each chose one of the gray-and-white ones, and Eddie took the gray-and-black fellow.

To-day is Emily's birthday. She is seven years old, and may have a little party. If she does, how I would like to have you all here to play with her! However, at some future time I may write, and tell you all about it.

But it is time for me to run home, and get some dinner: so good-by.

"DOC."

DRAWING-LESSON BY HARRISON WEIR.

A STORY OF A SEAL.

"THE seal is an amphibious quadruped."

"Oh, come now, Aunt Emily, do not puzzle us with your hard names," cries Johnny.

"But, Johnny, a lad seven years old ought to know that amphibious means 'capable of living on land or water;' and that quadruped means 'having four feet.'"

"Oh, now I understand," said Johnny. "But does the seal have feet?"

"It has a sort of feet; but they are so wrapped up in the skin, that they are not of much use on land, except to help it to creep, after a fashion. So the seal passes most of its time in the sea, coming on shore only to bask and sleep in the sun, or to suckle its young ones. It is covered with a close thick fur and is a very good swimmer."

"But let us have the story," said Jane.

"The story is this: once a fisherman, after harpooning an old seal, found one of its young ones on the sand, and took it home. Here it became the playmate of the children, whom it seemed to love very much. They named it Blue-eyes. It would play with them from morning till night, would lick their hands, and call them with a gentle little cry, not unlike the human voice in its tone.

"It would look at them tenderly with its large blue eyes, shaded by long black lashes. It was very fond of music. It would follow its master to fish, swimming around the boat, and taking a great many fish, which it would give up without even biting them. No dog could have been more faithful, or more quick to learn what was wanted.

"But the fisherman's half-sister was a silly old woman. She had come to help nurse his wife, who was ill. This half-sister took it into her head that the poor seal would bring bad luck to the family. She told her brother that he must get rid of it.

"Weary of her teasing, he at last took the poor seal, rowed with it out into the open sea, and there, more than seven miles from the shore, threw it into the water, and then hurried home as fast as sails would carry him.

"But, when he entered his cottage, the first thing he saw was the faithful seal lying close beside the cradle of one of his children. As soon as it saw its master, it showed great joy, and tried to caress him. But he took the seal and gave it away to a sailor, who was going on a long voyage. Two weeks afterward, as the fisherman came back from his boat, he saw the seal at play with the children.

"'If you do not kill that seal, I will kill it myself,' said the old aunt. The children began to cry. 'No, no, you shall not kill it!' cried Hans with flashing eyes. 'You shall kill me first,' cried little Jane. 'You have no right to kill it,' cried Mary, the eldest girl.

"'Am I to be ruled by these children?' said the silly aunt, turning to her brother.

"'The seal shall live,' said he: 'the children shall have their way. Your notion that the poor seal brings bad luck is a very silly notion. You ought to be ashamed of it.'

"'Hurrah!' cried Hans. 'Blue-eyes, the vote is taken: you are to live, and all this nonsense about your bringing bad luck is blown away.'

"The seal began to flop about as if in great joy.

"'I shall leave the house at once,' said the silly aunt.

"'Do as you please,' said the fisherman.

"And so it turned out, that the only ill luck brought to the family by the seal was the departure of the cross and silly old aunt. And, if the truth were known, this was found to be a very good thing for all. The fisherman prospered, the mother of the children got well at once; and all were happier than ever before, including Blue-eyes, who now was the jolliest seal that ever played with children."

EMILY CARTER.

FUN IN WINTER.

THE ground was white with snow. The sky looked black as though another storm were coming. The day was very cold; but the tough boys and girls did not mind the cold weather. They were out to have some fun.

Their rubber boots, and thick coats and mittens, kept them dry and warm. One of the boys, though, had come out bare-headed. He was the boy who never could find his cap when he wanted it. His name was Tom.

"Now look here, Tom," said his brother Sam, a sturdy little chap, who was always trying to keep Tom in order; "this won't do. You go into the house and get your cap. Go quick, or you'll get this snowball right in your face."

"Fire away!" said Tom, dancing around, and putting up his arm to keep off the snowball.

"I'm going to have a hand in this game," said Joe, aiming a snowball at Sam. "Look out for yourself, old fellow."

"Clear the track!" cried Bill and Ned, rolling a huge snowball down the hill.

Mrs. O'Sullivan, who was just going up the back-steps to ask for cold victuals, looked around to see what was going on; while Charles had his own fun in dragging his little sister up the hill on her sled.

All this time, a little boy named Jim, who had been having a private coast in the field near the house, was peeping over the fence, and wishing he were old enough to play with the other boys. He didn't venture to join them, for he was bashful, and rather timid: but he saw all that took place, and he will remember all about it when he sees this picture.

UNCLE SAM.

OLD WHITEY.

I AM a great boy six years old, and I take "The Nursery." Some of the stories I spell out myself; but the most of them mamma reads aloud to my little brother Albert and me.

Last summer, we all went to visit an uncle who lives on a large farm. We had just the best kind of a time. There was a big dog, named Rover, that would play with us for hours. He would run after and bring back a ball or stick, or any thing that we would throw for him. He would "speak," "roll over," "sit up and read," and do lots of funny tricks.

Then there was a white horse twenty-five years old, and just as sleek and fat as a colt. Old Whitey has lived on the farm ever since he was a little colt. Old as he is, he is still able to do a great deal of work.

One day Uncle Wash was ploughing, and he put me on the back of Old Whitey. Well, I liked that very much, and began to cluck, and jerk the reins, to make him go along; when in an instant, without any warning, he pricked up his ears, kicked up his heels, and ran away, leaving the plough behind.

I can't tell you how scared I was. I held on as long as I could; but it was of no use. The old horse ran through swamps and bogs, and dropped me, head first, in the mud and dirt. I was hurt on my head and side, but I would not cry because I was too big for that. When the men got to me, I was hunting for my hat.

After getting rid of his load, the runaway coolly walked up to the barn, and stood looking as mild as a lamb. I didn't have any faith in Old Whitey after that, though his master said he never knew him to do such a thing before.

NELSON.

WOODSTOCK, VT.

FRED AND NED.

"OH, this is weather for play, for play!

And I will not go to school to-day,"

Said Master Frederic Philip Fay.

So he hung his satchel upon a tree:

And over the hills to the pond went he,

To frolic, and see what he could see.

He met a boy on the way to school,

And said, "Ned Foster, you're a fool

To study and plod because it's the rule."

Quoth Ned, "You'll find that he's the fool

Who, for his pleasure, shirks his school:

Sun, moon, and stars, all go by rule."

Then Ned passed cheerily on his way,

And not another word did say

To Master Frederic Philip Fay.

Fred sat him down on a rock near by,

And cast a look on the bright blue sky,

And then at the sun, that was mounting high.

"Yes, truly, the sun has no time for play:

He has to go in a certain way,"

Said Master Frederic Philip Fay.

"Oh! what would become of us all, suppose

The sun, some morn, should say, as he rose,

'A truant I'll be to-day—here goes!'

"Then off should whirl in a mad career,

And leave it all night and winter here,—

No blue in the sky, no flower to cheer?

"Yes, there is a duty for every one,

For Master Fay, as well as the sun:

A law must be minded, a task must be done."

Up started Frederic Philip Fay:

He took from the tree his satchel away,

And ran off to school without delay.

I                        DA FAY.

WHY DO THEY ALL LOVE FREDDY?

"BUT do they all love Freddy, mamma?"

"I think there is no doubt of it, Freddy. The cat loves you; for she will let you pull her about, and never try to scratch you."

"Yes; and I think old Towser loves me. He lets me get on his back: he never bites me."

"I would like to catch him at it—biting my little Freddy! He knows too much for that; and, besides, he loves you."

"But does the old cow love me, mamma?"

"Why, didn't she let you play with her calf, and never try to hook you? The old cow loves Freddy, and will give him all the fresh milk he wants."

"The hens love me because I feed them."

"Yes, the hens love you; and, more than that, the little sparrows love you; for they follow you, and hop about your feet, as if they wanted to say, 'Good-morning, Freddy! We all love you, Freddy.'"

"But I will tell you one beast that does not love me, mamma. The old sow does not love me."

"Don't you believe it, little boy! The old sow loves you just as well as Towser does; just as well as the cow does; just as well as old Scamper, the horse, loves you."

"I should like to be sure that the sow loves me."

"Come with me, and I will put you on her back; and, if she does not like it, it will be a sign that she does not love you; but, if she does like it, it will be a sign that she loves my little Freddy just as much as the others do."

So mamma took Freddy, and placed him on the back of the old sow. The old sow gave a look over her ears, saw it was Freddy, and then uttered a contented grunt, as much as to say, "All right! Freddy, you are a darling, and I love you."

"Did I not tell you that the old sow loved you, like the rest?"

"Yes, mamma; but why, why, do they love me? Tell me that."

Mamma snatched Freddy up in her arms, took him into the house, and then said, "I think they must love you, Freddy, because you love them. Love wins love, you know. The person who says that no one loves him should ask himself the question, 'But do I love any one?'"

IDA FAY.

HOW THE MORNING COMES.

CHEERY, cheery,

Out of the dreary

Dark there glows

A tint of yellow, a purple gleam,

A shine of silver, a brazen beam,

A flush of rose;

The darkness, meanwhile, flying, gone:

Thus does the morning dawn.

Creeping, creeping,

Daintily peeping,

Hastes the light

Through the window to see where lies

The little girl with the sleepy eyes;

Glistens bright

With very joy to find the place

Where lies her dreaming face.

Drowsy, drowsy,

A little frowzy

Gold-locked head

Turns on its pillow, yawns, and winks;

Lifts from its pillow, peeps, and blinks;

Turns in bed;

Then with a slow, reluctant shake,

Is almost wide awake.

MRS. CLARA DOTY BATES.

MY RABBITS.

ONE day Cousin John asked me if I would like two nice rabbits. I said I would like them very much. So he gave them to me, and I had a pen made for them.

One I called Pink, and the other White. They were very tame, and soon got to know their names. I took them out and let them run about the yard every fine day.

Once Pink ran away, and I thought he was lost. I had a long chase after him through the bushes; but I caught him at last and brought him home.

My brother George kept a lot of chickens in the yard, and while I fed my pet rabbits, he would feed his chickens.

HATTIE.

THE COUNCIL OF BUZZARDS.

THE buzzard is a large black bird, nearly as large as a turkey. He never kills that he may eat, but devours the refuse in the city streets, and the dead animals on the prairies and swamps of the Southern States. It is against the law to shoot buzzards; for they are the health officers of the South.

Here, in beautiful, sunny Louisiana, I seldom look out doors without seeing one or more buzzards slowly circling around in the air in quest of food. Before they begin to eat, they arrange themselves in a solemn row, as if holding a council, and "caw" in a very wise manner. Then one flies down, and then another, and another; and as they eat, they seem to comment on their repast. At last nothing is left of it but the bare bones to bleach in the sun. They will eat an ox in a day.

AUNT ANN.

LA TECHE, LA.

A MOTHER GOOSE MELODY.

Music by ANNIE MOORE.

[Transcriber's Note: You can play this music (MIDI file) by clicking here.]

Three little dogs were basking in the cinders,

And three little cats were playing in the windows,

Three little mice popp'd out of a hole,

And a piece of cheese they stole, they stole!

The three little cats jump'd up in a trice,

And crack'd the bones of the three little mice,

The three little mice.

Transcriber's Notes

Transcriber's Notes: The January edition of the Nursery had a table of contents for the first six issues of the year. This table was divided to cover each specific issue. A title page copied from the January edition was also used for this number.

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Table of Contents

THE

NURSERY

A Monthly Magazine For Youngest Readers.

IN PROSE.

IN VERSE.

"WHY DID ELFRIDA GO TO SLEEP?"

THE PRAIRIE-DOG

STRUT

THE CATERPILLARS

THIRD LESSON IN ASTRONOMY

THE ROBBERY.

PUSS AND HER THREE KITTENS.

THE LITTLE RECRUIT.

ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER.

A LETTER FROM TEXAS.

A STORY OF A SEAL.

FUN IN WINTER.

OLD WHITEY.

FRED AND NED.

WHY DO THEY ALL LOVE FREDDY?

HOW THE MORNING COMES.

MY RABBITS.

THE COUNCIL OF BUZZARDS.

A MOTHER GOOSE MELODY.

Transcriber's Notes

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE