THE NURSERY _A Monthly Magazine_ FOR YOUNGEST READERS. VOLUME XIII. --No. 6 BOSTON: JOHN L. SHOREY, No. 36 BROMFIELD STREET. 1873. 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: RAND, AVERY, & CO. , STEREOTYPERS AND PRINTERS. [Illustration: Contents] N PROSE. PAGE. The Children at Grandmother's 161 The Flying Wood-Sawyer 163 Papa's Story 167 About Bees 171 Bad Luck 174 Cherry and Fair Star 176 About some Indians 181 Playing Tableaux 183 Little Mischief 186 IN VERSE. The Old Blind Man and his Granddaughter 165 Dixie 169 The Fat Little Piggies 178 A Song of Noses 180 A-Maying 185 The Seasons 188 [Illustration] [Illustration: THE CHILDREN AT GRANDMOTHER'S. ] THE CHILDREN AT GRANDMOTHER'S. [Illustration: T]HERE was once a grandmother who had fourteen littlegrandchildren. Some of them were cousins to one another; and some werebrothers and sisters. This grandmother lived in an old, old cottage notfar from the sea-beach. The cottage had a long sloping roof; and therewas an elm-tree in front of it. One fair day in June, the boys went down to the sea-beach to bathe, andthe girls went out on the lawn to play. Some of them thought they wouldplay "hunt the slipper. " But little Emma Darton, who was a cousin to the rest, said, "I promisedmy mother I would not sit down on the grass: so, if you play 'hunt theslipper, ' I must not play with you; for in that game you have to sit. " Then her Cousin Julia replied, "Nonsense, Emma! It is a bright warm day. Don't you see the grass is quite dry? Come, you must not act and talklike an old woman of sixty. Come and join in our game. " But Emma said, "When I make a promise, I always try to keep it. If to dothat is to be like an old woman of sixty, then I am glad I am like one. " "You are the oldest-talking little witch I ever knew for afive-year-old, " cried Julia. "If you don't look out, you'll not livehalf your days. " "I think Emma is right, " said Marian, another cousin. "So, if you insiston sitting on the grass, Emma and I will go and sit by ourselves on thetrunk of the old fallen tree. " But Julia insisted on having her game of "hunt the slipper;" and Emmaand Marian went and sat down on the fallen trunk, and looked on whilethe rest played. The next day five of grandmother's little visitors did not seem to bewell. Some were coughing, and some were sneezing, and some werecomplaining of pains in their limbs. "Why, what is the matter with you, children?" said the old lady. "If Idid not know you were sensible little girls, I should say you had beensitting on the damp grass, --all of you but Emma and Marian. " The cousins looked at one another; but no one spoke aloud. Then Marianwhispered to Emma, "Are you not glad you kept your promise to yourmother?" Emma looked up and smiled, but did not say a word. DORA BURNSIDE. THE FLYING WOOD-SAWYER. ONE day last winter I was cutting maple-logs in the woods with across-cut saw. It was about five feet long, and had a handle at eachend, so as to be used by two persons together. My brother generallyhelped me; but, for some reason, he was not with me then, and I was atwork all by myself in a rather lonesome place. I had finished eating my dinner, set my pail under a clump of trees, andcommenced my afternoon job; but, as the log was large and hard, I oftenhad to stop and rest a minute. While I was standing still, with my handsupon one handle of the saw, all at once a bird came flying down towardsme; and, after resting upon the ground behind the log a few moments, what do you suppose he did? Whether he knew I was tired, and thought it was too hard for me to cutthe wood all alone, I cannot say; but suddenly he gave a little spring, and seated himself right on the other handle of my saw, as you see inthe picture, grasping it with all the hands he had, and looking asthough he had come on purpose to help me saw that log through. [Illustration] For my part, I rather think he did help me; for, while he kept his holdupon the other end of the saw, I _rested_ faster than I ever did before. I stood as motionless as a statue; for I feared that any movement wouldscare the bird away. How soon I should have got through my sawing with his help, I cannottell. But suddenly he seemed to think of something more important; andaway he went, like a streak of sunshine, off into the woods beyond me. I have never seen my sawyer-bird since then. I call him my "sawyer-bird"because I don't know how else to name him. He was a strange bird to me:but he seemed like a good friend; and I shall always remember him as helooked when trying to help me work that winter's day. UNCLE WILLIAM. [Illustration] THE OLD BLIND MAN AND HIS GRANDDAUGHTER. SILVER-WHITE his locks are straying As upon the bench he sits, While his little grandchild, playing, Round about him sings and flits. Calmly there, and unrepining, Waits he--he is old and blind; But the sun is brightly shining, And the soft spring airs are kind. "Ah! if he could once, once only, See the splendor of the vale! He, so old and weak and lonely, See the trees wave in the gale!" Then his little daughter, pressing Up against the old man's knee, With her childish, soft caressing, Filled his heart with boyish glee. Through her eyes once more beholding All the glories of the spring, Now his youth once more unfolding, Hope and joy and beauty bring. FROM THE GERMAN. PAPA'S STORY. "NOW, papa, for another army story, " said little Eddie, as he climbedinto papa's lap, and prepared himself to listen. Papa closed his eyes, stroked his whiskers; and Eddie knew the story wascoming. This is it, -- One day, when we were camping in Virginia, some of us got leave to go into the woods for chestnuts, which grew there in great abundance. We were busy picking up the nuts, when we heard a scrambling in the bushes. We thought it was a dog. "_Was_ it a dog?" asks Eddie. "No, it was not a dog. " "Was it a cat?" "No, it was not a cat. " "O papa! _was_ it a _bear_?" [Illustration] "No, it was not a bear. " "Do tell me what it was!" "Well, let me go on with my story, and you shall hear. " It was a fox. How he did run when he saw us! We ran after him, and chased him into a pile of rails, in one corner of the camp. You see, the soldiers had torn down all the fences, and piled them up for fire-wood. The fox ran right in among the rails; and, the more he tried to get out, the more he couldn't. "A fox, a fox!" we shouted; hearing which, all the men, like so many boys, rushed up, and made themselves into a circle around the wood-pile, so that poor foxy was completely hemmed in. Then a few of us went to work, and removed the rails one by one, until at last he was clear, and we could all see him. With a bound, he tried to get away; but the men kept their legs very close together, and he was a prisoner. We got one of the tent-ropes and tried to tie him. _Such_ a time as we had! One man got bitten; but after a while foxy was caught. Then what did the cunning little thing do but make believe he was dead! Foxes are very cunning: they can play dead at any time. He lay on the ground quite still, while he was tied, and the rope was made fast to a tree. When we all stepped back, he tried again to get away. The rope held him fast; but he bit so nearly through it, that we feared we should lose him, after all. So off rushed one of the boys, and borrowed a chain from one of the wagons at headquarters. With this Master Fox was made quite secure. We tried to tame him; for, being away from all little children, we were glad of any thing to pet. But it was of no use; for, even when foxes are taken very young, they cannot be tamed. They do not attach themselves to men, as dogs and some other animals do. He would not play with us at all; but we enjoyed watching him, as we had not many amusements. One day we had to go off on a march, and left our little fox tied to a tree. When we came back, he was gone. We never knew how he got away; but we were not very sorry, for he was not happy with us. It was much better for him to be in the woods with his own friends. If he was smart enough to stay there, he may be living now; but he must be a pretty old fox by this time. Here papa stopped; and his little boy drew a long breath, as though veryglad that the little fox got into the woods again. MARY MYRTLE. [Illustration] [Illustration] DIXIE. DIXIE, this little dog of mine, Had legs like a spider, black and fine, A nimble tail, and a body slim, And ears that would almost cover him. [Illustration] If you whispered to him of "birds" or "rats, " Of "cows" or "squirrels" or "pigs" or "cats, " He was all a-tremble with hope and fun, Ready to hunt or fight or run. But Dixie is older now; he shows A gray mustache on his once black nose: Slower his legs to frolic and leap; And he needs a nice soft place to sleep. [Illustration] But he has such brown and gentle eyes, Has love so human, and ways so wise, Has tastes so dainty, --the wilful elf!-- That he rules all things to suit himself. Only Flora has any fear If he speaks too loud, or comes too near; Yet she told me bravely the other night She could pat the end that didn't bite. CLARA DOTY BATES. [Illustration] ABOUT BEES. [Illustration: L]OUDLY weeping, I ran to my father from the garden, abee having stung me in the hand. He drew out the sting, washed myswollen hand in cool water, told me about those wonderful creatures thebees, and promised to take me to visit a gentleman who kept many hivesof them. So, the first fine day, we walked to a neighboring village, and foundthe bee-master, as he was called, very glad to show us his little pets. He first led us to a hive made wholly of glass, so that we might watchthe bees at their labors. He told us there were three kinds of bees; and in the picture you maysee how they look, both when flying and when at rest. Those marked _A_are queen-bees; _B_ are the male bees, or drones; and _C_ theworking-bees. The most important bee in the hive is naturally the queen. She is longerand sleeker than the others, and has a crooked sting, of which, however, she seldom makes use. Similar in form, but smaller, are theworking-bees, whose sting is straight. The male bee, or drone, isthicker than the others, and stingless. "What has the queen to do in the hive?" I asked. The old gentlemanreplied, "She is the mother-bee, lays all the eggs, and is so diligentthat she often lays twelve hundred in a day, having a separate cell foreach egg. That is her only work; for she leaves the whole care of herchildren to the industrious working-bees, who have various labors toperform. Some of them build cells of wax; others bring in honey on thedust of flowers, called pollen; yet others feed and take care of theyoung; and a small number act as body-guard to the queen. " [Illustration] The bee-master next took us to a strange-looking old hive, and asked uswhat it was like. I said, "The trunk of a tree. " He told me I was right, and that the wild bees still dwell in hollow trees. He then showed us various kinds of hives, and, last of all, a glassglobe, in which the bees had built a beautiful white comb in the form ofa star, and filled it with honey. This he was to send as awedding-present to a bride. He said, "The bees can make of any egg, either a queen or a working bee, according to the food and treatment they give it. The queen requires butsixteen days in which to come to maturity; while the workers requiretwenty, and the drones twenty-four. When several queens appear at thesame time, they fight until one gains the victory. " Honey is the nectar of flowers, which they collect with their tongues, place in their honey-bags, and deposit in cells built for the purpose, which, when filled, they cover with wax. Bee-bread is made of the dust of flowers, with which the bee getscovered in collecting honey. This it brushes off, kneads into two littlemasses, which are placed in a sort of basket on the joint of the leg, where a fringe of hairs acts as a cover. Wax is a secretion from honey, which oozes out between the rings whichform the body, and is then worked with the mouth until it is fit for theconstruction of the comb. Bees also make a gummy substance forvarnishing their cells, which they procure from the buds of trees. When we took leave of the kind old gentleman, he gave me in a basket anice honeycomb to take to my mother; and since that my father has boughtme a hive of bees. Every summer I plant flowers in my garden for them, that they may not have far to go for their honey. BERTHA. [Illustration] BAD LUCK. JOHN went down to the brook to catch a mess of fish. He took off hisboots, took his seat on the bank, and threw out his line. The fishes took John's bait. He could see them dart at the bait as fastas he threw it in; but they did not take his hook. While he watched them, some one touched him on the arm. It was hissister Jane. "How many have you caught, John?" said she. "I'll help you take themhome. " "Thank you, " said John. "We shall not have much of a load. I have hadbad luck. " There were three men a mile down stream, who did full as well as Johndid. Here is a sketch of them. [Illustration] CHERRY AND FAIR-STAR. I COULD not have been quite six years old when I became the possessor ofa canary-bird, to which I gave the name of Cherry. There were three children of us, --myself (the oldest), Arthur, and baby. My father was at sea; and my mother had charge of us all in her littlehouse near the ocean. Well do I remember one cold day in winter when we were all gathered inthe one little apartment that served us for nursery, dining-room, andsitting-room. Arthur, who had overslept himself, was at his breakfast;mother was feeding baby; and I was looking at my dear Cherry in hiscage. Pots of hyacinths in bloom were on the table; Mr. Punch, Arthur'sChristmas present, lay as if watching the cat on baby's pillow in thebasket; and Muff, the old cat, with Fair-Star her kitten, were lappingmilk from a basin on the floor. My dear mother had taught Muff to be good to Cherry; and Muff seemed tohave overcome her natural propensities so far as to let Cherry evenlight on her head, and there sing a few notes of a song. So, on the day I am speaking of, I let Cherry out of his cage; and heflew round, and at last lighted on the kitten's head. At this Muffseemed much pleased; and Fair-Star herself was not disturbed by theliberty the little bird took. But all at once Muff sprang upon Cherry, and, seizing him in her mouth, jumped up on the bureau. At last it would seem as if the old cat hadchosen her time to kill and eat my poor little bird. [Illustration] No such thing! Our good Muff was all right. A neighbor, who had come toborrow our axe, had left the back-door open; and a hungry old stray cathad suddenly made her appearance. Muff saw that Cherry was in danger, and seized him so that the strange cat should not harm him. Cherry was not only not hurt, but not frightened. Well do I remember howmy mother placed baby on the pillows, drove out the strange cat, andthen took up Muff, and petted and praised her till Muff's purr ofpleasure was loud as the noise of a spinning-wheel. After that adventure, Cherry and Muff and Fair-Star were all betterfriends than ever. LUCY KORNER. THE FAT LITTLE PIGGIES. SAID a sow to her piggies so white, "Oh! the chilly winds whistle around, There is ice on the old miller's dam, And there's snow on the hard frozen ground; But a warm, sheltered stackyard have we, Where all day you may play hide-and-seek: So away, little piggies, my white little piggies, For a gambol and scramble and squeak. "You have all had your breakfasts, I know; For your trough was full, up to the top, Of the sweetest potatoes and milk; And you've not left a bit or a drop; But, though an old sow, I'll not grunt: So begone round the barn for a freak, And I'll watch you, dear piggies, fat, curly-tailed piggies, As you hurry and scurry and squeak. " [Illustration] So at once, 'mid the fresh-sprinkled straw, The young pettitoes scampered away; And they rooted and burrowed and hid, Then all quiet a minute they lay: Soon their pink-pointed, noses peeped out; Then their bodies, so plump and so sleek. Oh the glad little piggies, the mad little piggies-- How they snuffle and scuffle and squeak! GEORGE BENNETT. [Illustration] A SONG OF NOSES. [Illustration: D]UNCAN has a nose, Points my finger at it: Has a nose the hare, He will let you pat it. [Illustration] Has a nose the bull, Soon he will be lowing. [Illustration] Has a nose the fox, He is very knowing. [Illustration] Peacock has a nose, Very proud he's feeling. [Illustration] Has a nose the hog, Soon he will be squealing. Tell me which of all these noses Duncan now the best supposes. [Illustration] ABOUT SOME INDIANS. LAST summer a party of Indians, --men, women, and children, --in ninelittle birch canoes, came paddling down the Mississippi River, andlanded at our village in Illinois. They were of the Chickasaw tribe fromMinnesota, who are half-civilized, and speak our language imperfectly. Indians, you must know, do not live in good warm houses as we do. Theylive in wigwams, as they call their houses, which are merely a few polesstuck in the ground, and covered with skins or blankets. They do not provide regular meals, but live from hand to mouth byhunting and fishing. Sometimes they have to go without food a long time. The men are too lazy to work. They like better to strut about with theirfaces painted all the colors of the rainbow. The Indians who came to our village were very good specimens of theirrace. Of course, their visit made quite a sensation, especially amongour young folks. As soon as they landed, the squaws (women) threw theirblankets over their shoulders, swung their pappooses (babies) on theirbacks, and, with their little boys and girls, came up into town. The Indian boys made some money by shooting arrows at cents stuck in astake. They were quite skilful. The squaws offered for sale slippers, moccasons, and bags, which they had worked themselves with sinews andporcupine-quills. Their chief, a large man, whose face was painted bright red, got the useof our town hall, and in the evening gathered his party there, andshowed us some of their dances. Two of the men beat a "tum-tum" on theirrude drums (which looked like nail-kegs); and the little and big Indiansdanced or hopped around in a circle, singing, "Ye, ye! yu, yu! hi, yi!ye, ye!" Now and then the chief would pull out a long knife, and swing it aroundhis head; and another Indian would draw up his bow, as if he were goingto shoot. This was the war-dance. We were all much amused; and our little boys and girls laughed heartily. We gave the Indians some money to buy their breakfast, and they said, "Yank, yank!" When they, or a like party, come again, I will tell you more about them. CARLOS. [Illustration] [Illustration] PLAYING TABLEAUX. THE picture of "Miss Jones" in the February "Nursery" reminded me of twoother little girls who are as fond of "playing people" as Edith May. Nearly every day in winter, when they cannot play out of doors, theselittle girls dress up to represent different characters. They call this"Playing Tableaux;" but their _tableaux_ are something more thanpictures, as they act their parts as well as dress them. Sometimes, for instance, one of the little girls appears as a peddler, who is quite as hard to get rid of as a real one. Sometimes a washerwoman comes in, and gets about tubs and clothes, andmakes all the confusion of washing-day. Sometimes papa's great shaggy black coat covers what pretends to be"your good old dog Tiger, " who is very kind to his friends, but hasloud, fierce "bow-wow-wows" and sharp bites for those who are not goodto him. Sometimes poor little lame Jimmy, who can only walk on crutches, comesin to sell shoe-strings, "because, " he says, "you know I can do nothingelse to help my poor mother. " Sometimes a ring at the door-bell calls our attention to the wants of adeaf-and-dumb beggar, who makes fearful gestures till he is fed, andthen forgets that he cannot speak, and says, "Thank you!" in a veryfamiliar voice. When these little girls have company, they often fit out travellingparties for California, or a trip to Europe; and the baggage they makeout to collect would serve very well if they were "really and trulygoing, " as they tell us they are. Their good-bys are very affecting as they kiss us all, and beg us writeby the first mail. AUNT MERCY. [Illustration: ALL FOR ONE, AND ONE FOR ALL. ] [Illustration] A-MAYING. WHEN the wild March winds were blowing, Not so very long ago, And it still kept snowing, snowing, Piling, drifting, Heaping, sifting, Snow on snow, Faithless Fanny said, "Spring never Will be here; 'twill snow forever; And I don't believe I ever Shall again a-Maying go!" April pleased her little better: Now 'twas rain as well as snow; Every day was wet and wetter, Drifting, dropping, Soaking, sopping, Raining so, That poor Fanny feared the showers Would quite drown her precious flowers; And for what, in May's bright hours, Could she then a-Maying go? Now the gay May sun is shining, Pink and sweet the Mayflowers blow; And forgetting her repining, Her complaining Of the raining And the snow, With its fitful, frosty flurries, Fanny lingers not, nor worries, But to field and greenwood hurries; For she must a-Maying go. FENNO HAYES. LITTLE MISCHIEF. XV. WHAT now? Will this child never be out of hot water? What is Bessiedoing now? I will tell you. She found in one of her mother's drawers abox; and, on opening it, she found some little round things somethinglike sugar-plums. [Illustration] She began putting the little round things in her mouth, and swallowingthem. They were not quite so pleasant as she had expected, or she wouldhave taken more. "I wonder what makes them taste so bitter?" thoughtBessie. She will find that out by and by, to her sorrow. XVI. "What makes me feel so?" thought Bessie as she sat in the big arm-chairin mother's best chamber, rubbing her eyes, and feeling veryuncomfortable. She had not sat there long, before she began to cry. Her mother, who hadbeen wondering who could have been meddling with her pill-box, came in. "Have you been swallowing these pills?" she asked. [Illustration] "Yes; but I didn't know they were pills, " said Bessie. "Well, you will be well punished for your fault, " said her mother. "Thepills will make you quite sick. " And so it happened. [Illustration] THE SEASONS. MARY. How I love the blooming Spring, When the birds so gayly sing! JOHN. More the Summer me delights, With its lovely days and nights. EMILY. Autumn is the best of all, With its fruits for great and small. RICHARD. Nay! old Winter is the time! Jolly then the sleigh-bells' chime! GRANDMOTHER. Every season will be bright, Children, if you'll live aright. * * * * * Transcriber's Note: This issue was part of an omnibus. The original text for this issue didnot include a title page or table of contents. This was taken from theJanuary issue with the "No. " added. The original table of contentscovered the entire year of 1873. The remaining text of the table ofcontents can be found in the rest of the year's issues.