Project Gutenberg's The Nursery, July 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 1, by Various

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Title: The Nursery, July 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 1

Author: Various

Release Date: March 29, 2008 [EBook #24938]

Language: English

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THE

NURSERY

A Monthly Magazine

For Youngest Readers.

VOLUME XIV.

BOSTON:
JOHN L. SHOREY, No. 36, BROMFIELD STREET.
1873.

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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by
JOHN L. SHOREY,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

Boston:
Stereotyped and Printed by Rand, Avery, & Co.

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Contents

IN PROSE.

PAGE.

Look out for the Engine
1

How Willy coaxed Edith
3

Works of Art for Children
4

Kit Midge
8

Hettie's Chickens
10

A Schoolboy's Story
12

Clarence at the Menagerie
14

Touch my Chicks if you dare
16

The Catcher caught
18

Edwin's Doves
22

The Little Fortune-Seekers
24

The Little Stepmother
30

IN VERSE.

PAGE.

My Clothes-Pins
6

Mamma's Boy
11

The Birds and the Pond-Lily
21

A Summer-Day (with music)
32

Decoration

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LOOK OUT FOR THE ENGINE! LOOK OUT FOR THE ENGINE!

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LOOK OUT FOR THE ENGINE!

S

ALLY and Bob were making a bonfire in the woods. They had come to spend the whole day, and had brought their dinner in a basket; and Carlo, their little dog, kept watch of it while they gathered sticks and leaves.

They soon had a large pile heaped up in the middle of the road which led through the forest. "For," said Bob, "we must make the fire where it won't do any mischief."

When all was ready, Bob lighted a match, and tucked it under the leaves. Then, getting down on his knees, he puffed and blew with his mouth, until first there rose a tiny stream of smoke; then a little flame crept out; and, in a moment more, the pile was blazing merrily.

The children got some large stones, and sat down on them to warm their hands; for Sally said her nose and fingers were so cold, she was sure Jack Frost must be somewhere around. They could not make Carlo come near the fire: he was afraid of it, it crackled and sputtered so. He liked better to lie under the bushes near the dinner-basket.

"What a splendid bonfire!" said Bob.

"Yes," said Sally; "but don't you wish we had some nice apples to roast in the coals?"

Just as she said this, they heard the whistle of a locomotive away in the distance. "Look out for the engine!" shouted Bob, jumping up. "Let's run and see the cars go by."

Away they ran down the road, to the edge of the woods, and climbed up on the fence. By leaning over, they could look far up the track, and watch the train come thundering down. First only a black speck was in sight; then the great lantern in front of the locomotive glittered in the sun; and soon the train was rushing by.

Bob balanced himself on the top rail, and shouted, "Hurrah!" Sally screamed, "Good-by, good-by!" at the top of her voice; and Carlo bristled up his hair, and barked loudly, wondering all the time what this strange creature could be, which made such a racket, and ran faster than he could.

The people in the cars heard the noise, and looked out to see where it came from. They saw a boy without his jacket perched on a fence, waving his hat; a little girl by his side, laughing so hard that she showed all her teeth; and a funny little yellow dog yelping with all his might: that was all. But they thought it a pretty picture, and opened the car-windows to wave their handkerchiefs.

As the last car rushed by, a lady at one of the windows tossed out two rosy apples. Down jumped Bob and Sally to pick them up. The apples had fallen in some thick grass, and were not bruised at all. "Just what we wanted," said Sally; "but, oh, dear! I'm so tired with shouting, that I don't believe I can eat my apple." She did eat it, though, every bit of it, except the seeds.

Henry Baldwin.

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HOW WILLY COAXED EDITH.

The children who had "The Nursery" last year will remember the story called "Kindness is better than Blows," where the bookseller with an apple coaxed the horse to draw a heavy load up the hill. Little Willy Gay looked at that picture very carefully, and soon made practical use of it, as I will tell you.

Willy is very fond of playing horse, but has no brother to play with him. His sister Edith, three years old, does not like to play horse: she prefers to be with her dollies. Sometimes Willy gets cross, and scolds at her because she will not play horse as much as he wants her to.

A few days ago I saw Willy coming up from the cellar with a large red apple in his hand; and soon after I heard the two children racing through the rooms, having a merry time; and Willy called out, "O mamma! I gave Edie an apple, and she did play horse."

You see, he had thought about that story, and made up his mind to try to coax little sister, as the man did the horse: he soon found that kind words and deeds were better than scolding.

I hope he will not forget it very soon.

L. W. Gay.

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WORKS OF ART FOR CHILDREN.

I have a little daughter who never returns from a walk in the woods without bringing a bunch of gay flowers. I have taught her to make of them many little works of art, which you may also like to learn, dear reader.

Here is the first. Certainly there must grow in your neighborhood some larch or spruce trees. If we look sharp, we shall soon find on them a handsome half-open cone. In the small openings of this cone we stick delicate flowers and grasses which we find in the meadows and fields.

When our nosegay is ready, we lay the cone with the flowers very carefully in a dish of water.

After an hour, the cone is so closely shut, that the flowers are held as fast in its scales as if they had always grown there. This makes a very nice present.

Making nosegays

I will tell you how to make another pretty thing. You know what a burr is. Alas! it has often played you many a naughty trick,—woven itself provokingly into your clothes, or perhaps into your hair. I can teach you to make a better use of it.

Pluck an apron full: lay them one against another so that they shall stick fast together, and make in this manner the bottom of a small basket of any shape you like,—round, square, or oval.

Now build the burrs up around the edge to form the sides. When this is finished, make also the handle of burrs. A lovely little basket stands before you, which you can fill with flowers or berries from the fields, and carry home to your mother. Of course you know how to make wreaths and bouquets; but to make them tastefully is a true work of art, in which all children should try to become skilful.

Anna Livingston.

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My Clothes-pins

MY CLOTHES-PINS.

My clothes-pins are but kitchen-folk,
Unpainted, wooden, small;
And for six days in every week
Are of no use at all.

But when a breezy Monday comes,
And all my clothes are out,
And want with every idle wind
To go and roam about,

Oh! if I had no clothes-pins then,
What would become of me,
When roving towels, mounting shirts,
I everywhere should see!

"I mean," a flapping sheet begins,
"To rise and soar away."
"We mean," the clothes-pins answer back,
"You on this line shall stay."

"Oh, let me!" pleads a handkerchief,
"Across the garden fly."
"Not while I've power to keep you here,"
A clothes-pin makes reply.

So, fearlessly I hear the wind
Across the clothes-yard pass,
And shed the apple-blossoms down
Upon the flowering grass.

The clothes may dance upon the line,
And flutter to and fro:
My faithful clothes-pins hold them fast,
And will not let them go.

My clothes-pins are but kitchen-folk,
Unpainted, wooden, small;
And for six days in every week
Are of no use at all.

But still, in every listening ear,
Their praises I will tell;
For all that they profess to do
They do, and do it well.

Marian Douglas.

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KIT MIDGE.

Kit

Kit Midge was thought in the family to be a wonderful little cat. She enjoyed sitting in the sunshine; she liked to feast upon the dainty little mice; and, oh, dear me! now and then, she liked to catch a bird!

This was very naughty, of course; but the best trained cats have their faults. One morning Kit ate her breakfast with great relish, washed her face and paws, smoothed down her fur coat, and went into the parlor to take a nap in the big arm-chair.

The sun shone full in her face; and she blinked and purred and felt very good-natured; for, only the night before, she had caught her first rat, and for such a valiant deed had been praised and petted to her heart's content.

Well, Kit Midge fell asleep in the chair, with one little pink ear turned back, that she might wake easily, and a black tail curled round her paws. By and by one eye opened; and, peeping out, she saw her mistress walking across the room with a dear little yellow-bird in her hand, which she placed on a plant that stood on the top shelf of the plant-stand.

Now, Midge had looked with longing eyes for weeks upon a lovely canary, which sang on its perch far out of her reach; and I suppose she thought this was the same bird among the green leaves.

But she was a wise little cat: so she slept on, with both eyes open, until her mistress had left the room. Then Kitty came down from the chair, and, creeping softly to the stand, made a spring, and seized birdie between her teeth. Then, jumping down, she dropped the bird on the carpet, smelled it, looked ashamed, and sneaked away.

It was only a stuffed bird; and when her mistress, who had been peeping in at the door all the time, said, laughing, "O Kit Midge, I am perfectly ashamed of you!" Kitty just ran out of the room, and did not show herself the rest of the day.

Kit Midge was never known to catch a bird after that.

Aunty May.

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Hettie's Chickens

HETTIE'S CHICKEN.

What can be prettier than a brood of chickens with a good motherly hen, like the one in this picture! See how the little chicks nestle and play about their mother! and see what a watchful eye she has over them! But some chickens do not have such kind mothers, as you shall hear.

There was a little black one in our yard this spring, which none of the mother-hens would own. They would peck at it, and drive it away, till it was almost starved. Aunt Jennie told our little Hettie that she might have it for her own, if she would take care of it.

So Hettie put the chicken in a cage, with some wool to cover it, and fed it several times every day, till it came to know her. When it was let out of the cage, it would follow her about wherever she went.

One night Hettie went to bed, and forgot to put her pet in its cage. What do you think it did? It just flew up on her pillow; and there it sat with its head tucked under its wing.

Hettie named it Posey, and called it her daughter.

"What will you be, some day, when Posey lays eggs, and brings out a brood of little chickens?" asked mamma one day.

That was a new idea to Hettie; and it puzzled her little brain for a minute: then she laughed out, "Shall I be their grandmother?"

Papa looked up from his paper to see what amused his little girl so much; and, when she had told him, he said he would have a pair of spectacles ready for her; and mamma said she would make her a cap; and Hettie said her little arm-chair would be very nice for a grandmother's chair.

"What will you do as you sit in your chair?" said mamma.

"Let me think," replied Hettie. "Why, my grandma is always knitting mittens and socks and hoods for us; and I must learn to knit, so I can knit some for my grandchildren."

Mamma said she would teach her, and they would begin that very day.

And now, wouldn't you like to see our little Hettie with her roguish eyes peeping over spectacles, and her sunny curls straying from her cap, and her chubby little hands knitting mittens, and all in that little arm-chair?

Aunt Amy.

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Mamma's Boy

MAMMA'S BOY.

"Baby, climbing on my knee,
Come and talk a while to me.
We have trotted up and down.
Playing horse, all over town.
Whose sweet darling are you, dear?
Whisper close to mamma's ear:
Tell me quickly, for you can."
"I'm mamma's boy, but papa's man!"

"Why, you've many miles to go
Ere you'll be a man, you know.
You are mamma's own delight;
You are mamma's diamond bright;
Rose and lily, pearl and star,
Love and dove,—all these you are."
"No!" the little tongue began:
"I'm mamma's boy, but papa's man!"

George Cooper.

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A School-Boy's Story

A SCHOOL-BOY'S STORY.

John Tubbs was one day doing his sums, when little Sam Jones pushed against him; and down went the slate with a horrid clatter. "Take care of the pieces!" said the boys, laughing. But Mr. Brill, the master, thought it no laughing matter, and, believing it to be John Tubbs's fault, told him that he should pay for the slate, and have his play stopped for a week.

John said nothing. He did not wish to get little Sam into trouble: so he bore the blame quietly. John's mother was by no means pleased at having to pay for the slate, as she was a poor woman, and had to provide for several other little Tubbses besides John.

"I tell you what it is, John," said she, "you must learn to be more careful. I shall not give you any milk for your breakfast all the week; and by this I shall save money for the slate, which it is right you should pay for."

Poor John ate his bread with water instead of milk: but somehow he was not unhappy, for he felt that he had done a kindness to little Sam Jones; and the satisfaction of having rendered a service to another always brings happiness.

A few days after, Mr. Jones came to the school, and spoke to Mr. Brill about the matter; for little Sam had told his father and mother all about it. Sam was a timid boy; but he could not bear to see John Tubbs kept in for no fault, while the other boys were at play.

"What!" said the master, "and has John Tubbs borne all the blame without saying a word?—Come here, John."

"What's the matter now?" said John to himself. "Something else, I suppose. Well, never mind, so that poor little Sam Jones has got out of his little scrape."

"Now, boys," said Mr. Brill, "here's John Tubbs. Look at him!" And the boys did look at him as a criminal; and John looked very much like a criminal, and began to think that he must be a bad sort of fellow to be called up in this way by his master.

Then Mr. Brill, the master, told the boys all about the broken slate,—that John did not break it, but bore all the blame to save Sam Jones from trouble, and had gone without his milk and play without a murmur. The good schoolmaster said that such conduct was above all praise; and, when he had done speaking, the boys burst out into a cheer. Such a loud hurrah! it made the school-walls ring again. Then they took John on their shoulders, and carried him in triumph round the playground.

And what did John say to all this? He only said, "There, that'll do. If you don't mind, you'll throw a fellow down."

T. C.

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Clarence at the Menagerie

CLARENCE AT THE MENAGERIE.

On the first day of May, Barnum's menagerie came to our town; and Clarence went with his papa to see the animals. He enjoyed looking at them all; but most of all he liked the monkeys and the elephants.

He fed the monkeys with candy, and laughed to see them hang by their tails while they took it from his hand. They ate all the candy he would give them, and did it in a very funny way.

Clarence's papa said the candy had better be eaten by monkeys than by boys; but I doubt whether Clarence was of that opinion.

Clarence was afraid of the great elephant when his papa first took him near it, and hung back when they came within reach of its trunk.

"Why are you afraid of the elephant, Clarence?" asked his papa. "I'm afraid he will trunk me," said Clarence.

But he soon got over his fear, and was so busy feeding the elephant, that his papa had to coax him away.

On their way home, Clarence's papa told the little boy some stories about elephants. Here is one of them:—

A famous elephant, called Jack, was once travelling with his keeper from Margate to Canterbury in England, when they came to a toll-bar. Jack's keeper offered the right toll, but the toll-bar man would not take it. He wanted to make them pay more than was right. So he kept the gate shut. On this the keeper went through the little foot-gate to the other side of the bar, calling out, "Come on, Jack!" and at once the elephant applied his trunk to the rails of the gate, lifted it from its hinges, and dashed it to the ground. He then went on his way, while the toll-bar man stood petrified to see what a mistake he had made in demanding an unjust toll from an elephant.

"Now, Clarence," said his papa, "I suppose you would say that the elephant 'trunked' the toll-gate, and so he did; but, you see, it was because he did not choose to be imposed upon."

Clarence's Papa.

The Elephant

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"TOUCH MY CHICKS IF YOU DARE!"

That is what the old hen must have said to our little pup Bravo, who, being three months old, thought he was a match for any chicken or hen in the whole barnyard. He made up his mind that he would first try his courage on a little yellow chick named Downy, who was just three days old, and who had strayed away from his mother's wing to pick up a crumb.

So with a fearful growl, and a bark that might have frightened a lion, Bravo made a leap and a spring after poor little Downy. But Downy was too intent on his crumb of bread to take much notice of the enemy; and then Bravo, like a prudent general, stopped short, and tried his artillery before approaching any nearer. In other words, he began to bark in such a terrible manner, that any reasonable person would have shown his respect by running away.

But Downy was too young to reason, or show respect. Bravo, though as valiant as Julius Cæsar, was, at the same time, as cautious and careful as Fabius; and, if you do not know who Fabius was, I must tell you. He was a Roman general who was very famous for his ability in retreating, and getting out of an enemy's way.

Bravo thought to himself, "It holds to reason, since that little chick isn't afraid of such a powerful dog as I am, that there must be help near at hand." And, sure enough, hardly had Bravo thought this, when from behind some rushes ran out an old hen, followed by four, five, six chickens; and the old hen, with her feathers all ruffled, went right at Bravo, while the chicks stood behind sharpening their bills, and getting ready to join in the battle with their mother.

Guarding her chicks

Although the most courageous of dogs, it could not be expected that Bravo would be so foolhardy as to make a stand against such odds. He paused a moment, with his mouth open, as the terrible old hen came at him; and then, seeing that the tide of battle was against him, he ran off as fast as he could to his master's door-step. But, though defeated, he showed his spirit by keeping up a frightful barking. The old hen and her chicks, however, were so stupid that they did not mind it much.

Indeed, the old hen, with her family, came up so near to the door-step, that Bravo was obliged to make a second retreat. This he did with such success and good general-ship, that he escaped unhurt. Thus ended Bravo's first battle; and I think you will agree with me, that many a general with epaulets would not have done any better.

Uncle Charles.

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THE CATCHER CAUGHT.

First Sparrow (the one standing with both wings spread).—Oh, look here! Come all. See what has happened! Here is old Scratch-claw with his tail caught fast in the door.

Second Sparrow.—Where is he? Let me see. Oh, isn't this jolly! Halloo, Sparrows! Come and see. Come one, come all.

Third Sparrow.—That's the rascal that killed and ate three of my little ones.

Fourth Sparrow.—He came near catching me, the other day. Didn't he spit viciously when he saw me get out of his way?

Fifth Sparrow (the one on the ground).—How are you, old Sneezer? How are your folks? Don't you find yourself comfortable?

Stuck!

Pussy.—Siss-ss-siss-ss! Mee-ow? mee-ow!

Fifth Sparrow.—Oh! wouldn't you like to, though? Spit away, old fellow! It's music to us sparrows.

Sixth Sparrow.—You are the brute that killed my dear little Spotted-wing.

Seventh Sparrow.—He also murdered my precious little Twitterwit.

Eighth Sparrow.—He is a bad fellow; and it is not surprising he has come to grief.

Ninth Sparrow.—Pull away, old boy! Sha'n't we come and help you? I love you so, I would like a lock of your hair.

Tenth Sparrow (the one on the lowest bough).—Children, hush! It is not good sparrow morality to jeer at an enemy in affliction,—even a cat.

Fifth Sparrow.—O grandfather, you shut up your bill! Just you go within reach of his claws, and see what cat-gratitude is.

Tenth Sparrow.—My children, we must not exult over the pains even of an enemy. A cat has feelings.

Pussy.—Siss-hiss-hoo! Mee-ow! Fitt! Fitt!

Fifth Sparrow.—What a lovely voice!

Sixth Sparrow.—The expression of his face, too, how charming!

Tenth Sparrow.—Fly back, all of you, to your bushes and trees; for here comes a little boy who will see that Pussy is rescued.

First Sparrow.—Well, I wouldn't have missed this spectacle for a good deal.

Fifth Sparrow.—It is better than Barnum's exhibition any day.

First Sparrow.—Yes, and it costs us nothing.

Tenth Sparrow.—There! Fly away, all of you! Fly away! You have said enough. I am ashamed of you all. You ought to know better than to be revengful. You are quite as bad as boys and men.

Fifth Sparrow.—Grandfather is getting to be abusive. Let us fly off. Good-by, Pussy! Pull away!

Alfred Selwyn.

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THE BIRDS AND THE POND-LILY.

Four little birds came out to greet
The first pond-lily, so fair and sweet,
The first that opened its petals white
To the wooing breeze and the golden light.
They flew around, then sat on the tree,
And sang, "You are sweet as sweet can be:
O dear Pond-lily! we do not jest:
Now, which of us all do you love best?"
Pond-lily spoke not, but, instead,
Dipped in the water her beautiful head,
As much as to say, "I'm well content
In this my own pure element."
The birds they sang in their very best style,
But got no answer, not even a smile;
For Pond-lily knew it was safest and best
To keep where she was, on the wave's cool breast,
And never to listen to flattering words
From idle suitors and wandering birds.

Emily Carter.

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EDWIN'S DOVES.

Two doves

Edwin has two doves. They were given to him by his uncle. He has a nice little house for them. There are two doors in it, where they go in and out. In front of the doors there is a shelf, on which they perch.

They tap on the pane

The doves are free to go where they please; but they always come home at night. They are quite tame. Sometimes they fly up to Edwin's window, and light on the sill. They tap on the pane to let him know they are hungry.

He opens the window and feeds them

Then he opens the window, and feeds them. He gives them corn, crumbs of bread, and sometimes oats. They like the corn best. One of them is rather apt to be greedy; and both get so much to eat that they are very plump and fat.

Here are the doves looking at the turkeys. They do not know what to make of such birds.

W. O. C.

Doves looking at turkeys

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THE LITTLE FORTUNE-SEEKERS.

THE LITTLE FORTUNE-SEEKERS.

Young as Alan was, he had heard from his uncle Paul many a story about people seeking their fortune: so, one fine summer day, he set off with his brother Owen and his sister Amy a-fortune-seeking. Alan carried a stick; and Amy had a little basket on her arm.

Alan led the way, telling Owen and Amy to keep close to him, and to fear nothing. As they passed by Lakin's pond, a duck gave a loud quack; when they came to the great ash-tree, a bee buzzed by them: but neither the quacking nor the buzzing frightened the bold Alan; and on he went, holding up his stick.

They had almost reached the sawyer's cottage, when a black animal ran out towards them. Alan asked if he should attack the tiger? Owen would have it that it was only a puppy dog: but Alan said that did not matter; for it had four legs and a head and a tail, and so had a tiger. Owen thought he had better let it alone; and Amy tamed the tiger at once by giving it a bit of bread from her basket.

Suddenly they came to a spot where five or six geese and a few goslings were waddling about. The gander came towards them, stretching out his neck, and hissing loudly. Owen and Amy ran back, followed by Alan, who told them, that, if he had hit the gander with his stick, he would have frightened the goslings.

There was a stile near

As there was a stile near, leading into a field, they all got over the stile, and thus passed the geese.

"I wonder how that gander would like it," said Alan, "if I were to turn back, and lay hold of him by his long neck, and shake him?" Amy begged of him by no means to think of such a thing; and so Alan told her that he would not. Little did the gander know of his narrow escape!

Ah, me! what perils await those who go on their travels to seek their fortunes! A little brook was now before them; and Alan said, "This river must be crossed, and I hope that none of us will be carried away by the current. What we shall do if an Indian springs from behind the bushes, or a crocodile comes out of the sedge, I don't know. Here is the narrowest part of the river. I will lay my stick across it; and, if we make believe very much, it will do for a bridge."

"But I can't walk along your stick," said Amy. "Never mind that," said Alan: "a bridge is a bridge, whether we walk along it or not." So Alan laid his stick across the narrow part, and then jumped over the brook, followed by Owen and Amy. No Indian sprang from the bush, no crocodile came out of the sedge; and the river was crossed without one of them being drowned.

All at once it came into Alan's head that Uncle Paul had once been attacked by a wolf, and that they ought to have an adventure of the same kind: he therefore asked Owen if he would consent to be eaten up by a wolf. Owen said he did not like it: he thought Alan ought to be eaten, for he was the biggest. Alan said that would never do; for then there would be nobody to care for him and Amy.

But, besides this difficulty, there was another: they had no wolf; and, where to get one, they did not know. At last it was settled. Owen was to be the wolf, and to spring on Amy; but before he had eaten her up, or even so much as snapped off her little finger, Alan was to rush upon him with his stick, and drive him back into the woods.

Amy was now left alone, that Owen might get behind one bush, and Alan behind another. No sooner was this done, than, with her basket on her arm, she went on her journey.

And now Amy was almost come to the bush behind which Owen was crouching. For a moment she made a stop, as though she hardly durst go by; but at last she went on. Suddenly the wolf leaped out, and caught hold of her.

What was poor Amy to do? Well was it for her that Alan happened to come up. Many people are frightened at wolves; but Alan did not seem frightened at all.

It was a hard struggle; for the wolf pulled poor Amy one way, and Alan pulled her the other; but at length Alan won the day. "Shall I kill the wolf, Amy?" cried he, lifting up his stick. "No, no!" cried Amy: "he has not hurt me a bit. He is not a real wolf, but only my brother Owen."

Looking for Indians

The affair of the wolf having passed off so well, Alan began to bethink himself of other adventures. So much had he heard from Uncle Paul about Indians, that his heart was set on going among them.

Both Owen and Amy wondered where he would find the Indians; but Alan said, "That thicket yonder is quite as likely a place to find them in as any that I know."

"We have not seen one yet," said Owen. "No," replied Alan: "Indians always get behind the trees." This made Owen and Amy look about them, as if they feared every tree had an Indian behind it.

Alan set off for the thicket, while Owen and Amy sat down to talk over their travels; but it was not long before Alan again joined them. Whether the Indians were absent on some expedition, or whatever else might be the cause, certain it was that Alan had found no Indians. He had, however, torn the leg of one of his stockings: so he asked Amy to bind up his wounds.

"But you have not hurt your leg," said Amy: "you have only torn a hole in your stocking."

You have not hurt your leg

"Never mind that!" replied Alan. "We are out on our travels, seeking our fortunes, and must make the most of every thing. Bind up my wounded leg."

Little Amy tied up his leg with his handkerchief; and, considering that she had never bound up a wound before, it did her great credit.

It is due to Alan to say that the misfortune of his wounded leg by no means cooled his courage. "What is the use," said he, "of complaining? Those who go to seek their fortunes must learn to bear pain."

One of Alan's plans was to find a treasure; and, as they had neither spade nor pickaxe with them to dig for gold, he thought the best way would be for them to find a bag of money. Amy said, if they found a bag of money, she should like to take Dolly some. This being generously agreed to by Alan and Owen, they proceeded with their plan.

Alan took Amy's handkerchief, and tied up some grass in it. He then told Owen to go on a little way and drop it; and this Owen did. "Hi!" cried Alan, when he came up to the spot: "what have we here? Who would have thought that a merchant would have dropped a bag of money in such a place as this?"

All at once Owen and Amy bethought themselves that they had no right to the gold, as it belonged to the merchant who had lost it; but Alan met this objection by saying that they could easily inquire for the merchant as they went along, and give up the money if they found him. Thus pacified, Owen and Amy allowed Alan to lift the heavy bag of money into the basket: this he seemed to do with great difficulty.

But how was the basket to be carried with so heavy a weight in it? Said Alan, "Where there is a will, there is a way." A stick was procured, and passed through the handle of the basket, one end of it resting on Owen's shoulder, and the other end on the shoulder of Amy.

Alan with his leg tied up, leaning on his stick for support, hobbled onward; and Owen and Amy appeared to toil with might and main, bending under their load.

They had almost come to the turn by the birch-trees, when suddenly Dash, their own favorite dog, came barking joyfully towards them. At that very moment their parents were waiting for them with the pony-chaise at the end of the lane.

No sooner did our little fortune-seekers set eyes on the pony-chaise than off they set in a scamper, strangely forgetful of what had passed. It was wonderful to see how nimble Alan was in spite of his wounded leg; and with what ease Owen and Amy ran along with that heavy load of gold, which before had well-nigh weighed them down to the ground.

Divider

THE LITTLE STEPMOTHER.

The little stepmother, with her blue eyes and rosy cheeks, sat in the yard, surrounded by her pets, and busily paring some apples.

From heaven blew the morning wind, and greeted the lovely child: "Little stepmother, I will by thee remain: I will make the time pass merrily for thee, and cool thy red cheeks. Dost thou not hear?"

A sparrow sat before her on the bench, and twittered: "This is my place; my stomach is empty. Little stepmother, I am very hungry. I beg thee to give me some breakfast. Dost thou not hear?"

The dove swelled with anger, and said, "Go away, thou vagabond, thou beggar sparrow, thou glutton!—Little stepmother, I politely ask thee only for a sip of water. Dost thou not hear?"

The cat sat lost in thought, opening and shutting her eyes. "Little stepmother," said the cat, "my stomach, too, is empty. Go thou for some meat, or else look out that no harm comes to thy dear birds in the yard. Dost thou not hear?"

Little Stepmother

The little stepmother laughed, and said, "Be not so impatient! I must first make a dish of apple-sauce for the seven and seventy guests who are coming to my wedding-feast. When they are all assembled, then shall the morning wind play for the dance. You, beloved birds, shall be my bridesmaids, and the cat shall be the bride's father."

Divider

A Summer Day

A SUMMER DAY.

Music

[Transcriber's Note: You can play this music (MIDI file) by clicking here.]

2.
This is the way the sun comes up:
Gold on brooks and glossy leaves,
Mist that melts above the sheaves,
Vine and rose and buttercup,—
This is the way the sun comes up.

3.
This is the way the birdie sings:
"Baby birdies in the nest,
You I surely love the best;
Over you I fold my wings,"—
This is the way the birdie sings.

Divider

Transcriber's Note:

This issue was part of an omnibus. The original table of contents covered the entire second half of 1873. The remaining text of the table of contents can be found in the rest of the year's issues.

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Nursery, July 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 1, by Various

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