Dear little Lily, in night-gown white,
Her precious old dolly holding tight,
Looks back, as she goes, to say
"Papa, good-night!"
Her precious old dolly holding tight,
Looks back, as she goes, to say
"Papa, good-night!"
IN PROSE. |
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| PAGE | |
| Edith and the Chickens | 291 |
| How the Old Sparrow helped the Young One | 293 |
| Home, Sweet Home | 294 |
| The little Sailor | 297 |
| So Tired | 301 |
| Drawing-Lesson | 305 |
| The Doll that Fanny Found | 306 |
| All True | 308 |
| The Strange Man | 310 |
| A Knowing Dog | 311 |
| The Starling | 313 |
| Daisies and Clover | 314 |
| Helping Mother | 316 |
IN VERSE. |
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| Popping Corn | 290 |
| In School and Out | 296 |
| The Crickets' Sociable | 299 |
| Lessons | 302 |
| On the Way to Slumberland | 309 |
| Mother's Caller | 312 |
| Curly-Head and Inquisitive Ned | 315 |
| The Squirrel | 318 |
| Roly-Poly (with music) | 320 |
POPPING CORN.
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Pour the nice corn Out of the bowl, Into the popper, Over the coal,— The bright glowing coal. Shake now, for your life, The fine golden grain; Now listen! what strife Goes on there amain! Hear it! Pop, pop! Pop, pop! Pop, pop! Now the popper is full, The shaking must stop. Bring the dish, little Rosie, Come, Jamie and Josie, And out we will pour Our nice puffy store. So crisp and so light, So tender and white! What were beads of gold When put in the hopper, Into flowers unfold,— O magical popper! |
Edith was four years old, and had come the day before, for the first time in her life, to stay on a large farm. She had never seen young chickens, except in picture-books: so you can imagine how pleased she was at the thought of seeing real live ones.[292]
She was soon in the farmyard, and after feeding the little things with meal and water,—hasty-pudding she called it,—she seemed to long so to pet them, that her kind grandmother said, "Well, dear, hold up your apron, and I will put some of the chickens in; but you must handle them very gently."
Edith was delighted, and begged to carry them into the house for mamma to see. Old mother-hen, who was busy scratching for the rest of her brood, did not at first notice what was going on. But, when she saw Edith walking off with some of her darlings, she began to spread her wings, and puff out her feathers, and scold in hen fashion.
Then the tall old rooster straightened himself up and looked down at her, as much as to say, "What a goose you are to make such a fuss! The little girl will bring your chicks back all safe."
And so she did; and the next day, when she picked them up and petted them again, Mrs. Hen did not say a word, but seemed quite pleased and proud.
The poor little bird was wasting its strength in vain attempts to get out of its prison, while its mother looked down in alarm, and tried her best to cheer and aid her child.
At last the old bird flew away. "Can it be," I thought,[294] "that she is going to desert her little one?" No indeed! She had only hit upon a new plan.
Back she soon came with a stout straw in her beak. Perching on an iron bar which crossed the area about a foot below the level of the street, she passed one end of the straw to the little captive below.
The nestling took the offered straw in its beak and clung to it, while the mother, holding fast to the other end, flew up to the street. Thus, with some aid from its own wings, the little bird was able to gain a foothold on the iron bar.
From this point, one more pull by the old bird helped it to reach the pavement, where it fluttered away with its delighted mother.
With his elder brother he had been away at school for a year, while his mother and sisters were travelling abroad. This was the first evening that they were all together again.
"Come, sister Annie," Willie continued, "sing 'Home, sweet home!' Charlie can play it on the flute."
So Annie took her place at the piano; their mother seated herself to listen, with little Amy on her lap; and Charlie produced his flute. They were soon singing the old familiar song with all their hearts, Willie's voice loudest of all.
When this song was ended, he proposed singing "The star-spangled banner," "because," as he said to his sister, "you ought to rejoice to be under the old flag again."[295]
The singing over, the excited boy roused up his little sister, who had almost fallen asleep in her mother's lap, and whirled her round in what he called a waltz, till his mother said it was quite time to dance off to bed.
The last sound heard as he ran up stairs was, "Hurrah! there's no place like home!"
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School-time is coming again; "So much the better!" says Jane, And off, with her satchel and slate, She starts, for she scorns to be late. |
But ragged and barefooted Meg Does nothing but wander and beg. Oh, why does she not go to school? Poor child! She's by no means a fool. |
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What a silly question, wasn't it? But I didn't tell him it was silly. I sang the frog-song over again with a good many croaks and kerchugs to make it lively; then we all made ready—the two aunts, papa, my little boy, and myself—to go out sailing in the harbor.
Did any of your "Nursery" readers ever take a sail in Captain Burdette's sail-boat "Fearless" on the smooth water at Nantucket? Well, if you did, didn't you have a jolly time? And, if you didn't, do try it some day when the wind blows just enough to fill the white sail.[298]
We had a merry party, and our little boy was so full of play, that he dragged the boat-broom in the wake of the boat. Then he tried to stand on the forward-deck, and hold on by the mast. But the wind shifted a little, and the sail turned about so suddenly, that it came near pushing him into the water.
So papa ordered him into the stern, where the ladies were, and gave him permission to take hold of the tiller, and help steer the boat. He helped turn her toward the jetty which the government is building to make the water deeper, so that large ships may sail safely into the harbor.
Just as we made the turn, we saw another boat coming towards us. The tide was driving it swiftly along, and it bobbed up and down on the sparkling ripples. A little chap was standing on the bow, drying his wet bare legs in the sunshine. He seemed to be enjoying himself hugely, and paid no attention to our party.
He had a dark mantle thrown over his white vest, and was straight and slim like a naval cadet. By and by he gave his tail a little shake, lifted his two wings, and took himself off the water-soaked stick he had used for a sail-boat. Then he went screaming with his mates high up in the air.
I dare say you know by this time that I am talking about a sea-gull,—one of those birds which fly in such numbers about the seacoasts. My little boy wished he could fly like a gull, but thought it wouldn't be wise to be always hungry for a fish-dinner, as those who study their habits say sea-gulls always are.
| Each cricket was invited, 'twas after twelve at night; The fire was burning brightly, and not a puss in sight, When out popped twenty couples, all chirping loud and clear: The moon peeped in the window, as if it paused to hear. The band stood on a table,—a fiddle and a harp; The former was a trifle flat, the latter rather sharp: But, oh the jolly dancing, the capers queer and gay! Why, pigeon-wings were nothing, and double-shuffles, play. The belles reclined in corners, and chatted to the beaux, Who looked so neat and graceful, each turning out his toes; And all the daddy-crickets were happy as could be, Their little baby-crickets they dandled on their knee. A Daddy Longlegs handed a lady out to dance,— [300]'Twas said he was a baron,—quite modest was her glance; He kissed her hand politely, his style they all admired; He bowed to her sedately; she courtesied and retired. A dozen tiny crickets then tried a minuet, And many other dances whose names you would forget. The fiddler scraped up louder, a mouse peeped out to see; But laughed his head off nearly to mark such jollity! The supper, oh, that supper! From brimming cups of dew They sipped, and luscious goodies were spread out,—not a few. They handed round in slices a dainty Christmas cake That very much resembled a tiny snowy flake. They didn't stop till morning; they heard a rooster crow, And then the merry fiddler put away his bow; And twenty jolly couples with weary legs retire As Bridget pops in lively to make the kitchen-fire. |
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Then, as soon as she was nicely bathed and dressed, and her curly hair tied with a pretty ribbon, away she would go out of doors, to gather flowers, or feed the chickens, or play with the kitten.
After breakfast she would go into the field where the hay was making, and help with her own little rake to toss and spread it. But at eleven o'clock her mother would call her in, put on her cool night-dress, and lay her in her crib for a nap, and by that time the little girl was usually tired enough to be glad to go to sleep.
But one day she was having such a nice time with some[302] little cousins who had come to play with her, that, when her mother called her in for her nap, she said, "Oh, please, mamma, don't make me go to sleep to-day; I'm not a bit sleepy. See how wide open my eyes are!"
Her mother laughed and said, "Well, darling, we'll try it this once, but I'm afraid you will be tired before night."
"Oh, no! mamma, I shall not be tired, I know, because I am having such a good time."
So she played on merrily until her dinner at one o'clock, and, as soon as that was over, she was off again for another frolic. By and by she came in, looking very weary, and said, "I don't want to play out any more, mamma: I think it's time for my supper."
Now it was not yet five o'clock, and her usual supper hour was half-past six. But her mamma at once put some nice bread and butter on the table and her mug of milk, and left her to eat it, while she went to speak to a friend.
When she came back soon after, Miss Nelly had pushed back her plate, upset her mug, laid down her apron, dropped her head on her chubby arm, and gone fast asleep.
The next day when mamma called her for her nap, she ran quickly, saying, "All ready, mamma, because I was so tired yesterday."
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ALFRED. Loud humming in a hollyhock, I heard a little bee: He filled his yellow thighs with wax, And this he taught to me: "Short time have I to honey win; Short time have you to study in; Soon life and summer glide away: We must keep busy every day." |
| BESSY. And on a purple candytuft I saw a butterfly: It waved its red-and-yellow wings, And said, "A worm was I: Be cheerful whatso'er befall, And hope to soar when forced to crawl." |
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CHARLEY. Among some morning-glories set [304]There grew the fragrant mignonette: It said to me, "A winning grace A kind heart lends the plainest face: Who would my simple blossom choose Should I my pleasant perfume lose?" |
| DORA. Upon a green sweetbrier bough, A pleasant, shady place, All hung with dew, like gems, I found A web of silver lace; And on it, with its many eyes, I saw a spider watching flies, Who taught me this: "One must beware; The fairest thing may prove a snare." |
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DRAWING-LESSON.
She picked berries for grandma to make pies. She drove the cows home from the pasture every night. She rode into the fields in the hay-cart, and came home on the big loads of hay. She fed the chickens, and played with the kittens. But at last there came a rainy day.
Fanny heard the rain pattering on the window the first thing when she awoke in the morning. As soon as grandma opened the door to call her, she cried out: "O grandma! see how it rains! What shall I do to-day?"
"You can stay in the house with me," said grandma; "I have not seen much of my little girl yet."
"Well, you must tell me what to do," said Fanny.
"You can go up in the garret and play. There is where your mother and aunt Sarah used to spend a good many rainy days," said grandma.
So, after breakfast, Fanny went into the attic. The attic was a very large room, containing old spinning-wheels, chests, boxes, and many other things—such as are always found in attics.
"Now for a grand rummage!" said Fanny, and she began to look over the boxes and chests to see what she could find. In some of the boxes there were books and papers. In one of them there were old dresses and bonnets. Fanny pulled the things out of this box, one after another, and as she reached the bottom, she cried, "Oh, what have I found! what have I found!"
It was a large old-fashioned rag-baby almost as large as a[307] real baby a few weeks old. Its face and clothes were soiled and faded; its cap was torn and yellow; and it had but one shoe: but the little girl was delighted with it.
She had a number of handsome dolls at home; but she had never seen one like this before.
"How nice and soft it is to hold!" said Fanny. "I must go right down and show it to grandma, and ask her all about it."
She found grandma in the milk-room, churning cream. "See what I have found, grandma," said Fanny, holding the baby up before her. "Now do tell me whose baby this is."
"Oh," said grandma, laughing, "I made that doll for your mother when she was a little girl. I remember how pleased she was with it. She named it Sally."[308]
"I think old Sally is splendid, and I am going to play with her all the time I am here," said Fanny.
All the rest of her vacation, Sally was Fanny's pet and plaything. She made new clothes for her, took her out to walk and ride every day, and put her to bed every night.
In the picture you may see Fanny and Sally out in the fields together.
Mrs. F., a lady living not far from Boston, has a bantam hen, who, every spring morning, walks into the house, and lays an egg in a rocking-chair.
After laying the egg, Mrs. Bantam jumps up on the window-seat and says "Cut, cut, cut, cut-ah-cut!"
A turkey belonging to this same lady, who is very fond of pets, once came off her nest with one poor little fledgeling; a duck appeared, about the same time, with only one duckling; and, strangely enough, a hen was roaming about with one solitary chicken.
Mrs. F. thought that the three young ones might as well make one family: so she put the young turkey and the duckling with the hen, and Mistress Biddy took care of them with her own chicken, just as though she were the true mother of them all.
Mrs. F. used to take all three up in her lap and feed them. When put down, the turkey and the duckling would stretch their long necks up, looking wistfully at her, as if coaxing her to take them up again. But the chicken did not seem to care about being petted.
This little girl thinks she sees a strange man in the cornfield. He is very tall, and has long black hair. She clasps her hands in wonder. She goes up to the man; but he does not even bow to her.
Why, it is only a scarecrow! If the little girl had been a crow, I think she could not have been more scared. But she will have a good laugh now to make up for it. A pole with a hat on it can't deceive such bright eyes as hers.
When it is time for Flash to have his dinner, his master says, "Flash, bring the table-cloth!"
Off he runs to the newspaper-rack, gets a paper, and lays it at his master's feet. "Spread it out!" is the next command.
Quickly he opens the paper to its full extent, and places it on the floor carefully. He waits patiently for the bones that are to reward his obedience. When they have been put on the clean "table-cloth," he begins his nice feast. Dinner over, Flash picks up the paper cloth, and carries it out of the room for the cook to burn.
Ethel says that Flash can tell time; for at just such a minute every day, the dog comes to his master, sits up straight, with his front paws drooping gracefully, and asks, in his dumb way, for something to eat. And when the time comes for his master to go down town to business, Flash is sure to give him a hint; for Flash is very punctual, you see, and does not approve of delay.
One day Flash brought an intimate friend, a red setter,[312] and introduced him to his master. Flash stood wagging his tail, while the caller was politely caressed. Then the two dogs trotted off together, and Flash's playmate had a new name to put on his visiting list.
A starling owned by a lady in Germany, was in the habit of perching on the cow's head. There he would sit between her horns, busily cleaning his feathers. The cow did not notice him until he began to walk down her broad forehead. Then she felt his sharp claws and shook her head to drive him away; but he only flew back to his former place, and sat there, singing joyously.
Patty was taking a stroll in the pasture, plucking daisies as she went along. Suddenly she stopped, and seemed to be intent upon something in the grass.
"Do you see a snake, Patty?" said her cousin Paul, coming softly up behind her.
"Oh, no!" answered Patty, "I was only trying to find something."
"Trying to find something!" said Paul. "What in the world can it be?"
"Guess, if you can."
"Well," said Paul, "I guess it's a gold dollar."
"No such thing."
"Then it must be a pearl."
"No."
"An ear-ring?"
"No, I don't wear ear-rings."
"A hairpin?"
"No indeed! you saucy boy."
"Dear me! Then I shall have to give it up. Can't rack my brains any more. The strain is too great."
"What a bright boy you are at guessing! You shall have this bunch of daisies as a reward of merit. Are they not pretty? Don't despise them because they are weeds. Now I will tell you what I am looking for. I want very much to find a——"[315]
"Stop a minute," said Paul, "I have it." And he stooped down, and plucked a four-leaved clover.
"That's the very thing," said Patty.
"Good luck to you!" said Paul, handing her the clover with a graceful bow.
If the water does not all leak out before she gets into the kitchen, she will fill the teakettle. She is trying to make herself useful, you see.[317]
With that cap on her head, and that long apron, she fancies herself quite grown up, and able to do Bridget's work.
She thinks she is helping mother. But, when her mother sees the water spilt about the well, I think she will say that the little girl has only been doing mischief.
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
The original text for the July issue had a table of contents that spanned six issues. This was divided amongst those issues.
Additionally, only the July issue had a title page. This page was copied for the remaining five issues. Each issue had the number added on the title page after the Volume number.