Read Ebook: The Nursery March 1881 Vol. XXIX A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers by Various

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Ebook has 156 lines and 11759 words, and 4 pages

TWO FRIENDS.

JANE and Ann were good friends, but one morning they had a quarrel. They soon made it up. Jane put her arms round Ann's neck, and said, "I am sorry." Ann gave her a kiss, and they were friends again.

Here you see them taking a walk. They have on good warm coats, for it is a very cold day. Just see how lovingly they clasp each other. They are having a nice little chat. I wonder what they are saying.

A. B. C.

THERE was a wee bird that would not sleep, Though twilight was falling hushed and deep, And what did its mother do? She sang it the song it loved the best, She folded it softly in the nest, And then, ere that mother knew, Her birdie had gone to sleep.

There was a wee lamb that still would play, Though others were resting, after day, And what did its mother do? She called it so gently to her side, She soothed it with loving care and pride, And then, ere that mother knew, Her lambkin had gone to sleep.

There was a wee babe that would not rest, Though crimson and purple crowned the west, And what did its mother do? She made this wee song of lamb and bird, She sang it so softly, every word, And then, ere that mother knew, Her darling had gone to sleep.

GEORGE COOPER.

THE SWALLOWS' NEST.

CHARLEY came from school one Friday afternoon. He was going home with his grandfather, at whose house he was to spend the next day. It was the month of May; and the drive of ten miles among the green trees and fields was very delightful.

There were no playmates for Charley at grandpa's; but with a calf at the barn, several broods of chickens, and four kittens, he found enough to occupy his mind. He was up very early in the morning, and it was after ten o'clock when he came into the kitchen rather hungry.

"Look under the cloth on the table, Charley," called his grandma from the sitting-room. "You'll find a little cake I baked for you. Don't you see it?" she asked, coming into the kitchen. "There, that one."

"Oh!" said Charley, "I thought that was a loaf."

Then, taking the cake in his hand, he sat on a rock at the foot of a tree a little distance from the house, and began to eat with great relish.

Not far from him, and a little way from the other buildings, was the corn-barn, and at one end of its roof was a bird-house, which had been taken by two little birds for their home. Charley saw one bird come out and fly away. While she was gone, her mate kept watch at a short distance to see that no harm came to the eggs that were within.

Charley noticed, that, in flying, these birds had different motions from the sparrows and robins which lived about his own home in the city, and, when he went nearer, he saw that they were swallows.

As he watched them pass in and out of their house, he observed that there was something inside that opened and shut like a door. It was pressed back when the birds went in, and sprang into place again as soon as they were inside. Charley could not make out what it was, and ran to the house to ask about it.

"Grandma," he said, "is there a real door to the swallows' house?"

"They make one for themselves," she answered: "there is no door to the box. You know their house stands where it is exposed to all the winds, and, on some days since they came, they must have felt the cold very much. But I saw one come flying home one day with a turkey's feather in his beak, and they worked away at it very busily until they had placed it as you see. It keeps out the wind, and makes the house much more comfortable."

Charley went back to look at the door again, and wished he could be small enough, for a few minutes, to go inside the bird-house, and see just how it was fastened. But he could not have his wish, and the swallows kept their secret.

SUSAN CHENERY.

THE GENTLEMAN IN GRAY.

HUSH, little May! Snuggle here by my side: Do you see in that corner a door open wide? That's the door of a house: if you watch it a minute, The shy little owner will come and sit in it.

See! there he comes; in a gray velvet hat, With his shining black eyes looking this way and that, And his velvet-shod feet: if you stir but a lash, They'll twinkle and vanish as quick as a flash.

What do you fancy he does in the dark, When the fire has gone down to the very last spark, When the girls and the boys are in bed and asleep, And there's never a cat on the carpet to creep?

Why, out of his doorway he walks at his ease, And brings his relations and friends, if he please, He picks up the crumbs of your candy and cake: From the tiniest fragments a feast he can make.

He swings on the tassels, he climbs up the shelf; He peeps in the mirror and winks at himself; He drops from the table, and lands with a thump; He slides down the sofa, and squeaks at the bump.

There, now he grows bolder; he's out on the floor; He's eating an apple-seed there by the door; He's under the table; he's--where did you say? Oh, here he is! there he is! shoo! get away!

EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER.

THE LITTLE SCHOLARS.

AT your books! A goodly sight! Learn to cipher, read, and write; What you do, do always well; Let your aim be to excel. If you fail, why, try again; Mend your pencil or your pen, Straighten and perfect the line; Make the fine mark still more fine; Make the curve a little better; Let no flaw be in the letter; So by trying you will gain Till perfection you attain.

EMILY CARTER.

THE THREE DOLLS.

ROSY.

"OH, let me see your dolly!"

KATE.

"Take care! you must not touch; For she was bought in Paris, And oh, she cost so much! Her dress is richest satin, 'Tis trimmed with nicest lace. I do not dare to kiss her, For fear 'twould spoil her face. Such dainty little slippers I'm sure you never saw! We keep her wrapped in paper Within the bureau-drawer. Just see her shining necklace! I think 'tis truly gold. Oh, mine's a splendid dolly, But she's too fine to hold!"

ROSY.

"And do you have one, Lizzie?"

LIZZIE.

"Oh, mine's a perfect fright! I tried to keep her hidden She's such a sorry sight. If you had been here Christmas, I know you would have said That she was very lovely, With cheeks like roses red, And hair that shone like sunbeams, And pretty, tasteful gown; But I have been too heedless Where I have laid her down. I'd start up in a hurry, And drop her here or there. Her head--aunt Sally crushed it: I left it in a chair. Bad Jip, our naughty puppy, Has dragged her all about. She lost one arm; the sawdust Has from her form come out. Her head is cracking open, Her clothes are soiled and old, Yet this poor battered dolly Is all I have to hold. And I can have no other, My mother says to me, Until I learn more careful And orderly to be."

JENNY.

"Well, you may take mine, Rosy, And play with her: I know You will be very gentle, Because I love her so. She's but a common dolly, She has a simple dress; But then to me she's pretty, I love her none the less. I have one place to keep her,-- The closet's lowest shelf: With mother's help I'm learning To make her clothes myself. I kiss her and caress her, And, when the daylight flies, I tenderly undress her, And sing her lullabies. Kate's doll is fine to look at, All decked with lace and gold; But mine's the dearest dolly In all this world to hold."

MARIAN DOUGLAS.

THE FAITHFUL SENTINEL.

WHEN there is war, the safety of an army may depend on the quickness and courage of one sentinel. If he sleeps at his post, he is shot. The sentinel I am to tell you about never fell asleep on duty, never ran away from an enemy, carried no musket, and wore no uniform.

It was more than a hundred years ago that this trusted guard did duty; and when he died, not a drum was heard, and no soldiers fired a volley over his grave. You cannot find his name on the roll of enlisted men; and yet no soldier was ever more faithful.

There was war with the Indians at the time of which I write, and a family of settlers lived in what is now the State of Maine, on the bank of the River Androscoggin. One day the children of the family went down by the river to pick berries.

With the little party of boys and girls went the family dog. He was trained to follow the trail of Indians, and to give warning of their approach. The watchful dog took his place, like a sentinel, near the children, while they ran about from bush to bush, eating more berries than went into the pail.

Suddenly the dog gave a low growl, and looked angrily toward a heap of brush at the edge of the woods. The children knew what that meant, and, without waiting to see what the danger was, they ran at once towards the block-house.

The faithful dog did not run, but stood on guard to meet the Indian whom he had seen coming from the thicket. It was not far to the house; and the children were soon in a place of safety, while the Indian skulked back to the woods.

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