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Read Ebook: The Nursery April 1881 Vol. XXIX A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers by Various
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Ebook has 157 lines and 10571 words, and 4 pages
THE
NURSERY
FOR YOUNGEST READERS.
BOSTON: THE NURSERY PUBLISHING COMPANY, NO. 36 BROMFIELD STREET. 1881.
IN PROSE.
PAGE Lucy 97 The Savoyard 100 A Bear's Story 102 Take Care 108 Letter from China 109 Drawing-Lesson 113 The Bird who has no Nest 114 A Shrine 115 Susie's Dancing-Lesson 117 The Deserted House 122 Dame Trott and her Son 124 Bossy's Fright 125
IN VERSE.
PAGE A Merry Go-round 99 Secrets 105 Going to School 106 Kings and Queens 110 Good-Night 116 Five Little Sparrows 119 Dobbin's Complaint 121 Tommy Tucker 123 A Bluebird's Song 127 The Bird's Return 128
LUCY.
LUCY is three years old. She is one of the happiest little girls that I know, and one of the sweetest too. That is saying a good deal; for I know a great many very charming little girls.
You would not suppose that such a little tot could be left to herself a great while. But often, when she is tired of running about, her mother seats her in the great arm-chair, and there, with her doll in her arms, she sits and amuses herself for hours.
Jip the dog is very fond of Lucy, and very jealous of the doll. If he comes in and sees Lucy and her doll in the arm-chair, he begins to whine.
Then Lucy says in her baby-way , "Come here, Jip!"
Jip jumps up into the chair. Lucy puts her arm round him and pats him fondly. Jip looks up in her face, as much as to say, "Don't you love me, Lucy? Am I not as good as the doll? Why don't you pat me?"
Lucy knows what he means just as well as if he said it in words. "Yes, Jip, you good little dog, I do love you," she says, "and Dolly loves you too. You will take good care of us; won't you, Jip?"
And Jip seems to know what Lucy says; for he answers by another loving look, "Yes, Lucy, I will take care of you. Nobody shall harm you while I am here. I will be your watch-dog. But don't forget to pet me as well as your doll. I like to be petted."
Then Lucy pats him, and says, "Good little Jip, I will never forget you!" That makes him happy; and so they are both happy together.
UNCLE CHARLES.
A MERRY GO-ROUND.
WHAT a merry go-round! Not a ghost of a sound As the snowflakes dance and spin: Won't the wind play the flute, Now the birds are all mute, And the crickets have stopped their din?
The brook would be glad To tinkle like mad, If the snowflakes would only wait Till the season is June, And its voice is in tune For their service, early and late.
Then the brown bee would hum, And the frogs beat the drum, And robin would lead the band: Such a merry go-round, To such a sweet sound, Was ne'er known in snowflake-land.
MARY N. PRESCOTT.
THE SAVOYARD.
THIS boy, as you may see by his looks, is not one of our American boys. He is a native of Savoy, and is dressed in the costume of the peasants of that country.
Savoy is in the eastern part of France, just south of the Lake of Geneva. You will easily find it on the map. It is a fertile country, but there are many poor people there who live chiefly upon chestnuts and potatoes.
Though fond of their birthplace, many of them leave it during the winters, and go to Italy, Spain, and other parts of France in search of work.
Carl, the boy in the picture, is one of this class. His parents are too poor to support him, and he is sent out to seek his own living; but he is not a beggar. He earns something by raising guinea-pigs, which he sells to boys and girls for pets. He carries them, as you see, in a box slung from his neck. But they are so tame that he takes them out and lets them run up on his shoulders.
The guinea-pig, when full-grown, is not much bigger than a large rat. In shape it is a good deal like a fat pig. When hungry it grunts like a pig. In color it is white, spotted with orange and black. It is a native of Brazil.
Guinea-pigs serve very well for pets. Some children are very fond of them. But old folks like me prefer pets of another sort.
UNCLE SAM.
A BEAR'S STORY.
I WAS born in the wild woods of Michigan, and my home was in a large hollow tree which stood near the Muskegon River. There I lived with my mother and sister.
I was a careless young cub, and one day, when at play on the river-side, I went too near the steep bank, fell over it, and went down splash into the water. It was very deep, and there was a strong current. I had never been taught to swim. I was in such a fright that I could not even cry for help.
The water was choking me, and I was nearly drowned, when a kind log came floating by to my rescue. It seemed like a friend sent from home. I scrambled to the top of it, bade good-by to my sister, who stood crying on the bank, and went drifting down the river.
Before long two queer-looking objects came toward me, paddling along in a sort of hollow log. Seeing plainly that they were not bears, I felt much afraid of them. My mother had often talked to me about some fierce creatures called "men," and had told me always to keep out of their way.
I fully expected to be killed. But, instead of killing me, one of the men took me in his arms, and held me till we came to the shore. Then I wanted to go back to my mother, and I tried to get away. But he held me all the tighter, and after a while he tied my feet together. I could do nothing but cry, and at last I cried myself to sleep.
When I awoke I found myself in this town, called "Big Rapids," and here I have been ever since. It seemed to me very strange at first not to be in the woods, but in the midst of queer-looking white objects called "houses."
I started to take a walk, hoping to fall in with some bear of my acquaintance; but a hard thing fastened to my neck held me back. It is what men call a "chain," as I have since learned, and it compels me to stay in one place all the time.
I am no longer a cub, but am a full-grown bear. This kind of life does not suit me very well, but I have got used to it. One can get used to almost any thing. I have even got used to the society of men and women.
Their cubs often play with me, and sometimes they tease me. Once, when a boy was teasing me, I gave him a scare which will be apt to teach him better manners. I will tell you how it was.
The boy held out an apple, and, just as I was about to take it, he pulled it away. This mean trick he played three times. He tried it once more, and then I gave such a spring that my chain broke.
The boy dropped his apple, and ran. You ought to have seen that boy run! He didn't dare even to look back. But, if he had looked back, he would have seen me munching his apple with great relish.
BRUIN.
SECRETS.
"WHAT do you think?" "I'm sure I don't know!" "Don't tell anybody!" "Oh, no! oh, no!"
E. N. G.
GOING TO SCHOOL.
TRUDGE, trudge, along in the snow, That keenly creaks, it is frozen so: What does he care if the wind does blow?-- Sturdy lad, with his face aglow, He likes the sound of his ringing heel, And loves to feel, as he tramps along, He is conquering something: it makes him strong,-- Robert, the miller's boy.
What does he conquer? Wind and frost. Hands in mittens, and tippet crossed Over his ears, and backward tossed Like a crimson banner that leads a host, Well indeed may the lad feel bold To battle the cold, and fight his way Early to school, and every day,-- Robert, the miller's boy.
He'll sing and whistle, he'll run and shout, To keep him warm; but he'll never pout: If the frost creeps in, he whips it out, With his two hands thrashing his shoulders stout; While on he goes, and the keen snow rings To the song he sings, for his sturdy feet The changing time of that music beat,-- Robert, the miller's boy.
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