Read Ebook: The Nursery No. 165. September 1880 Vol. 28 A Monthly Magazine For Youngest Readers by Various

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 189 lines and 11736 words, and 4 pages

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!"

GEORGE COOPER.

THE FIRST CATCH.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

I caught a fish alive.

Why did You let him go?

He bit my little finger so.

TALKING WITH THE FINGERS.

No doubt, many of the little readers of "The Nursery" go to school; yet not many of them, I think, can ever have been in such a school as the one in which I am teaching. The walls of the room are hung with pictures of birds, animals, insects, fishes, and flowers. The blackboard is covered with drawings of many familiar objects.

While I am writing this, seven little boys and nine little girls are busy writing on their slates. These children do not have any books to study. I tell them what I wish to teach them, and they write it down, and try to remember it. But I teach them without speaking a word. I talk to them with my fingers.

You have guessed already, I dare say, that these dear little children are deaf and dumb; that is, they can neither hear nor speak. They cannot go to school and live at home, and see papa and mamma night and morning, as you can; for there are no schools for them near their homes. They have to go a long way from home, and stay in school many long weeks without seeing father or mother, brother or sister. So, when vacation comes, how glad and happy they are! Some of them are even now writing on their slates, "In sixteen weeks we shall go home."

I have said that these children cannot speak; but that is not quite true, for many of them are learning to speak. When I talk to them, they look very closely at my lips, and so learn to tell what I am saying. Some of them have very sweet and pleasant voices, the sound of which they have never heard in all their lives.

And now let me say that I hope you will learn the finger-alphabet; so that, if you visit any of my little pupils, you can talk to them.

S.A.E.

ROCHESTER, N.Y., March, 1880.

A DAY ON GRANDPA'S FARM.

"Arlington!" cried the conductor, as the train stopped at a little station in Central Wisconsin. We got out of the car just in time to see grandpa driving up in his big double wagon.

We climbed in, and grandpa said, "Get up, Bill! Go along, Jip!" and away we started for the farm.

When we got there, the first thing we saw was grandma making cookies with holes in them. She said she would give us some if we would be sure and not eat the holes.

After dinner, my sister Ally, cousin Johnny, and I, went out to take a ramble in the barn and hunt for eggs. Pretty soon we heard Johnny calling, "Oh, come quick, and see what I have found!"

We ran quickly to the place where he was, and there we saw a hen with a brood of chickens. One of the chicks was on its mother's back, one was on the floor in front of her, and the others were peeping out from under her wings. It was a pretty sight.

After naming each of the chickens, we all made a search for eggs. We found one nest with five eggs in it, another with three, and another with two. Johnny put the eggs in his cap, and carried them into the house.

He soon came running back, saying, "Now, let us go and have a swing." So we all went to the swing, and swung till we were tired. Then Ally said, "Oh, come and see the ducks swimming on the pond!" but Johnny said, "Wait till I get my boat, that uncle Sam made for me."

So we all went to the pond, and Johnny put in his boat. It sailed right out among the ducks, and they were much afraid of it, and swam away as fast as they could, saying, "Quack, quack, quack!"

Johnny went to the other side of the pond to get his boat, which had sailed across, and he had just got back when we heard grandma calling, "Children, come in to supper." After supper, mamma read us a story from "The Nursery," and then tucked us snugly in bed, and we went to sleep to dream of cookies, and hunting eggs.

S.H.P.

EMMA AND ETTA.

Emma and Etta are sisters. They have a doll whose name is Clara.

They are very fond of Clara, and it would be hard to tell which of the two Clara likes best. It is not often that one doll has two such mothers.

In the picture you may see Emma dressing the doll. She has curled the sweet little thing's hair, and Etta has a nice, clean gown all ready for her to put on.

It is to be hoped that this doll with two mothers will not be too much petted. It would be a pity if she should become a spoiled child.

A.B.C.

BROWNIE'S ADVENTURE.

Grace and Willie named him Brownie, because all his brothers and sisters were white, and he was such a funny little brown puff-ball of a chicken.

Mrs. Speckle was just as proud of him as she could be; but foolish Brownie thought her too strict. She would never consent to let one of the downy things out of her sight for a moment, and told them fearful stories of hawks and weasels, to say nothing of bad boys and big dogs.

But Brownie kept thinking that some day, when he was a little older and stronger, he would leave the yard, and see whether there were really such dangers in the fields and woods as his mother said there was.

After a while the pretty brown feathers all dropped out, one after another, until Brownie looked more like a chicken which had been plucked than any thing else. Grace could not keep from laughing at the sight of him; and it was very droll when he popped up on a log, and tried a weak, quavering crow.

To be sure, Mrs. Speckle did not keep a looking-glass, and I suppose poor Brownie had no idea how very absurd he looked. To tell the truth, he thought he was almost grown up, and began to watch for a chance to begin his journey to see the world. He had not the least doubt that he would see something fine, if he could only get out of the sight of his mother, who was so very strict, and had such foolish notions, as he thought.

So, one day, as Mrs. Speckle was having a friendly chat with Dame Top-Knot, he took the chance to creep slyly under the fence, and was off all alone.

"How silly mothers are! And such cowards too!" he said to himself. "I am sure there's nothing here to hurt me. I would like to see any one meddle with me!"

At this instant he felt a sharp peck; and a voice said close to his ear, "Halloo, little one, you had better start for home!"

He looked up, and saw young Green-Wing, who was two months older, and boasted a comb of good size, to say nothing of his sharp spurs.

Brownie thought it best to say nothing after the first "peep," and hid, trembling with fright, under the first leaf he could find. But the sun shone, the sky was a lovely blue, the ground was bright with flowers, and there were many bugs crawling about. Brownie had quite a feast, and was beginning to regain his spirits, when something happened which turned all his thoughts topsy-turvy.

The sky grew dark all at once. Something caught hold of him, and Brownie felt himself going up, up, so swiftly, that it quite took his breath away. "It must be a thousand miles," he thought.

Crack! went a gun. Then the hawk let go and Brownie went down, down to the ground, where he lay for a long time as if he were dead.

When he opened his eyes it was almost dark. The sun had set, and he had forgotten the way home. "I shall never see mamma again," he sobbed. "I wish I had been good and not run away."

"Why, here's Brownie!" cried Grace's voice. "The hawk did not get him after all. Come, Willie, and help me drive him to the hen-house."

"I hope, my dear, you will never be so very naughty again," said Mrs. Speckle, as he crept under her wing.

MRS. B.P. SIBLEY.

A MISJUDGED FRIEND.

The gardener shut the garden gate, And went to weed the onion-bed: The growing plants stood tall and straight; "But what is this?" surprised he said. Some broken bricks, some stones and sticks, And underneath them, crushed and dead, A large brown toad! "James, Martin, Fred!" He called three little boys, who played Near by, beneath a pear-tree's shade, And sternly asked, "What cruel play Is this you've been about to-day?"

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet