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Read Ebook: The Nursery No. 165. September 1880 Vol. 28 A Monthly Magazine For Youngest Readers by Various
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Ebook has 189 lines and 11736 words, and 4 pages
THE NURSERY PUBLISHING CO.,
ROSA BONHEUR.
About forty years ago, at an exhibition of paintings in Paris, two small pictures attracted great attention. One was called "Goats and Sheep;" the other, "Two Rabbits."
They were wonderfully true to life; and what made them still more remarkable was, that they were the production of a girl only nineteen years old. That young French girl, Rosalie Bonheur, is now the famous artist known the world over as "Rosa Bonheur."
She was born in Bordeaux in 1822. Her father, Raymond Bonheur, was an artist of much merit, and he was her first teacher. From earliest youth she had a great fondness for animals, and delighted in studying their habits.
So, naturally enough, she made animals the subjects of her pictures, and it is in this peculiar department of art that she has become eminent. Her works are quite numerous and widely known. One of the most famous is her "Horse-Fair," which was the chief attraction of the Paris Exhibition in 1853.
She is still practising her art; and in addition to that she is the directress of a gratuitous "School of Design" for young girls. When Paris was besieged by the Prussians, the studio and residence of Rosa Bonheur were spared and respected by special order of the crown prince.
Auguste Bonheur, a younger sister of Rosa, and one of her pupils, has also gained a high reputation as an artist. She, too, excels as a painter of animals.
We give as a frontispiece to this number an engraving of one of her pictures, and we will let the picture tell its own story. It is a work that would do credit to the famous Rosa herself.
ALFRED SELWYN.
PIP AND POP.
UNCLE CHARLES
WHAT CAME OF A DIRTY FACE.
A little boy I used to know, Who went to a district school. He learned to read, and he learned to write, And to whisper against the rule. What fun it was with his marbles to play When the teacher was busy, and looking away!
This little boy, one day, was sent A pail of water to bring, And like Jack and Jill away he ran, And back he came with a swing. But, just as he entered the schoolroom door, Both he and the water went down on the floor.
Oh, then, what a noise there was in the room! The school-ma'am fetched a mop; But, the more she tried the water to check, The more it wouldn't stop. There never was such water to run: It seemed, with the children, to like the fun.
What was it that made the little boy fall, And show such a lack of grace? I'll tell you all, for I happen to know: It was only a dirty face! He looked at himself in the water-pail, And that made the little boy's footstep fail.
WATERING THE FLOWERS.
"Why is it that flowers always grow so nicely for Mary? I often plant seeds; but nothing comes from them. They won't grow for me. But blossoms seem to spring right up wherever she goes. They must have a particular liking for her."
That's what Master Tom said, one day, as he saw Mary watering the flowers.
Well, it is no wonder, Tom, if flowers do have a liking for such a lovable little girl. There's nothing so very strange about that. How could they help liking her?
But, after all, perhaps the secret of the matter is, that Mary loves the flowers, and never forgets to take care of them. She looks after them every day, and not by fits and starts, as some people do.
So she has good luck with her flowers, and is always able to make up a nice bouquet. And she not only enjoys the flowers herself, but, what is better still, she takes delight in having others enjoy them with her.
She does not forget to send a liberal share to the Flower Mission; and many a poor sufferer has been cheered by the sight of Mary's flowers.
UNCLE SAM.
BABY TO HER DOLL.
I wonder what you are thinking about While you look so smiling at me. You never frown, and you never pout; Your eyes are as clear as can be, And though you are often hurt, no doubt, Not a tear do I ever see!
W.G.
PETER AND TOMMY.
UNCLE CHARLES.
IF I WERE A FAIRY.
If I were a fairy slight and small, Say, about as tall As a span-worm forming the letter O, What do you think I would do? I know! In the bell of the lily I'd rock and swing, Twitter and sing; And, taking the gold-dust under me, I'd splash the hips of the buzzing bee, That he might have meal to make his bread, With honey spread, For his thousand babies all in rows, Each in a bandbox up to his nose.
Unseen I would come where the tired ants tug At a heavy slug, With my rye-beard lance I'd push it along, And they'd think, "All at once we are wondrous strong!" In the nest of the robin, under the eaves Of the apple-leaves, I'd drop a worm in the gaping throats That answer my chirp of the mother's notes. When bonny Miss Harebell thirsts in vain For a drop of rain, I would fill at the brook my shining cap, And lay it all dripping in her lap.
Oh, what would I do as a fairy small? I cannot tell all; But I would do much with a right good will: To all things good, and to nothing ill. And I'd laugh and skip, like a bird on wing, Twitter and sing, And make boys and girls, and birds and flowers, All say, "What a lovely world is ours!"
Well, what if I am not quite so small? I can do it all In my own sweet home by the same good will, No fairy, but something nobler still.
GEORGE S. BURLEIGH.
A CHILD FASCINATING BIRDS.
There is a little girl in Ohio, five years old, who has the power of charming birds at will. Her mother was the first to notice the exercise of this strange power.
The little Girl was playing in the yard where some snowbirds were hopping about. When she spoke to them, they would come, twittering with glee, and light upon her shoulders.
On her taking them in her hands and stroking them, the birds did not care to get away. They seemed to be highly pleased, and, when let loose, would fly a short distance, and soon return to the child again.
She took several of them into the house to show to her mother. The mother, thinking the little girl might hurt the birds, put them out of doors. But the little birds were not to be cheated in this way. No sooner was the door opened than they flew into the room again, and alighted upon the girl's head, and began to chirp.
The birds staid about the house all winter. Whenever the door was opened, they would fly to the little girl. The parents feared that this might be a bad omen, and that the little girl would die.
But she kept her health, and did not die. She still makes pets of the birds, and they come and play with her. She handles them so gently, that even a humming-bird has been known to come to her several times.
Last winter a whole flock of birds kept near the house all the season. She would feed them, and then play with them for hours at a time. Every morning the birds would fly to her window, and chirp, as much as to say, "Good-morning, little mistress! Wake up, wake up!"
I think the child must be a near relation of that "Little Bell," of whom the poet Westwood sang,--
"Whom God's creatures love," the angels fair Murmured, "God doth bless with angels' care: Child, thy bed shall be Folded safe from harm; love deep and kind Shall watch around, and leave good gifts behind, Little Bell, for thee!"
EMILY CARTER.
DADDY FROG.
Old Daddy Frog lives in a bog, And his coat is bottle-green; Yellow his vest; handsomely dressed, His pretty shape is seen. Puffing with pride, there at his side His dame is sure to be: Smiling, she says, "No one could raise A finer family! Singing Coa, coa, coa, kerchunk!"
Old Daddy Frog leaps on a log In a spry and jaunty way: Calling his boys--oh, what a noise! He joins them in their play. Hippety hop! under they pop, And Daddy Frog says he, "Isn't it fine? How they will shine, This polished family! Singing Coa, coa, coa, kerchunk!"
Old Daddy Frog lives in the bog Till the summer days are done: Little boys grow; dressed like a beau Now is each model son. Daddy Frog's eyes wink with surprise, Filled with delight is he; Dame at his side chuckles with pride, "There's no such family! Singing Coa, coa, coa, kerchunk!"
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