THE NURSERY _A Monthly Magazine_ FOR YOUNGEST READERS. VOLUME XIII. --No. 4 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] IN PROSE. PAGE. Try, try again 97 The Prisoner 99 Clarence's Kittens 103 The Tiger's Toilet 104 Peterlin on his Travels 106 George's Boat 110 The Little Carpenter 112 Little Mischief 114 Walter's Dog 117 The Horse that loves Children 119 How Taddy learned his Lesson 120 The Old Clock 123 In the Maple-Woods 124 IN VERSE. The Song of the Kettle 101 On the Gate 108 Where's the Baby? 126 The Birds' Return 127 Song of the Ducks (_with music_) 128 [Illustration] [Illustration: "TRY, TRY AGAIN. "] "TRY, TRY AGAIN. " [Illustration: I]T is a true story that I am going to tell you now. Itis about a little boy whose name was William Ross. Having had a presentof a pencil, he thought he would make use of it by trying to draw. His first attempts were poor enough. One day, when he had been playingball with a young friend, he stopped, and, taking out his pencil, beganto draw a picture on the wall. "What do you call that?" asked his friend. "Why, that is a horse!"replied William: "can't you see?"--"A horse! is it?" cried his friend, laughing. "Why, I took it for a donkey. " "You are quite right in laughing at it, " said William. "Now that I lookat it again, I see it is all out of drawing; but I will keep at it tillI can make a good drawing of a horse. " William was not afraid of being laughed at; and he felt much obliged tothose who pointed out any faults in what he did. He was not discouragedby failures. He kept trying till he had used his pencil nearly all up. Still he had not yet made a good drawing of a horse. "You'll never learn to draw: so you may as well give it up first aslast, " said his friend to him one day, some six months after their lastmeeting. "Your horses are all donkeys still. " William opened a portfolio, and, taking out some pictures, said, "Whatdo you think of these?" "Ah! here is something like a horse, " replied his friend, looking at oneof the drawings. "You will never do any thing like this, Willy. " William smiled, but said nothing; though it was his own drawing that hisfriend was praising. Well, by bravely keeping at it, William at last began to make picturesworth looking at. While yet a boy, he sent in a painting to the Societyof Arts, for which he received a present of a silver palette. He rose tobe Sir William Ross, miniature painter to Queen Victoria. Don't be discouraged, my young friends, by failing in your firstattempts. Learn to persevere. Keep at it. That's the Way. UNCLE CHARLES. [Illustration] THE PRISONER. EVA is six years old, and has deep-blue eyes. Ernest is almost fouryears old, and has very black eyes. Jessie will be two years old nextweek, and has large brown eyes. Their papa, who has been kept at homeby illness for a week, thinks that he is just getting acquainted withthem, and never knew before that he had three such fine children. He noticed, the other day, that every hour, almost, they would run intothe sitting-room with cake or sugar or bread-and-butter, scatteringcrumbs all over the carpet, and keeping their mamma busy much of thetime in sweeping up. So he thought he would call a council to considerthe matter, and see what could be done about it. Papa, robed in his dressing-gown, took the chair; Eva was placed infront; Ernest stood on the right hand, and Jessie on the left. Thechairman then told the children how much work they made mamma, andproposed a rule, --that no more food should be brought into thesitting-room. All who were in favor of such a rule were requested tovote for it by raising their hands. Each of the children raised a hand;and fat little Jessie raised both of hers as high as she could. So thevote was passed. Then papa said that a rule was good for nothing unless there was apenalty with it. So he made Eva judge, and asked her what the punishmentshould be for breaking the rule. "I think, " said she, "the first onethat _spoils_ the rule should be shut up in jail five minutes. " This was thought to be about the right thing: so the bedroom wasselected for a jail, and Ernest was made jailer. Eva wanted to know, since she was judge, and Ernest was jailer, what Jessie could be. Herpapa said that Jessie would probably be the first prisoner. As toErnest, he went at once and told his mamma that he was "no more a littleboy, but a jailer-man. " Well, that day no more crumbs were scattered; and Ernest did not get aprisoner, though he kept a bright lookout for one. But the next day hegot one; and this is the way it happened. Papa said he would like anapple. Eva brought him one; and, while he was paring and eating it, hedropped some of the peel on the floor. In an instant, to his greatdismay, he was arrested and locked up; and he might have languished injail full five minutes, if Ernest had not been such a kind jailer thathe let him out in two. Papa thinks that the next time he makes a rule he will be careful not tobreak it. L. P. A. [Illustration] THE SONG OF THE KETTLE. MY house is old, the rooms are low, The windows high and small; And a great fireplace, deep and wide, Is built into the wall. There, on a hanging chimney-hook, My little kettle swings; And, in the dreary winter-time, How cheerily it sings! My kettle will not sing to-day-- What could it sing about? For it is empty, it is cold: The fire is all gone out. Go, bring to me, to fill it up, Fresh water from the spring; And I will build a rousing fire, And that will make it sing! Bring white bark from the silver birch, And pitch-knots from the pine; And here are shavings, long and white, That look as ribbons fine. The little match burns faint and blue, But serves the fire to light; And all around my kettle, soon, The flames are rising bright. Crack, crack! begins the hemlock-branch, Snap, snap! the chestnut stick; And up the wide old chimney now The sparks are flying thick. Like fire-flies on a summer night, They go on shining wings; And, hark! above the roaring blaze My little kettle sings! The robin carols in the spring; In summer hums the bee: But, in the dreary winter, give The kettle's song to me. MARIAN DOUGLAS. [Illustration] CLARENCE'S KITTENS. CLARENCE is a little boy who loves to read "The Nursery, " and oftenlaughs at the funny stories in it. Where Clarence lives, there are two kittens. He calls them kittens; butthey are both _grown-up_ kittens, and the elder of the two is afull-grown cat. One is named Ring, because she has such a pretty whitering about her neck; and the other is named Daisy. Now, Daisy is Ring's aunt, and is sometimes very cross to her niece. Being a sedate cat herself, she tries to stop Ring's fun; but Ring is ahappy kitten, and always tries to have a good time. One day, after coming from church, Clarence's aunt was reading, when thedinner-bell rang. So she left her book on the window-sill, and laid herspectacles upon it. Pretty soon old Daisy seated herself in a very dignified way right infront of the book. In a few minutes, little Ring came frisking along, and, without paying the least regard to Madam Daisy, up she jumped, andwhisked the spectacles down on the carpet. She was just ready to send them flying across the room, when down cameMadam Daisy as stern as a police-officer. She looked at Ring a moment, in a crushing way, then lifted her paw, and boxed the naughty kitten'sears till she mewed for mercy. Ring ran away as soon as she could, and left the spectacles forClarence's mamma to pick up; while old Daisy took her seat on thewindow-sill again, and seemed to feel that she had done her duty. Clarence thought it was a funny sight to see one cat punish another. What do you think about it, little Nursery people? MRS. L. A. WHITE. THE TIGER'S TOILET. THIS splendid tiger lived in the Zoölogical Gardens at Berlin. He had avery kind keeper named Peens, who used to comb out the long waving hairthat grew on his cheeks. He looks in the picture as though he were very angry, and were growlingand snarling terribly; but though he did gnash his teeth, and make afearful noise, he enjoyed his hair-dressing very much. I have seen somechildren who acted like this tiger when their hair was combed; but thatwas because they were really cross. He is not. [Illustration] Whenever he saw Peens coming toward his cage with the comb in his hand, this tiger would at once throw himself down close to the bars, with hishead pressed against them, as you see him here, as if he would say, "I'mall ready, Peens, go ahead!" This showed how much he liked the feelingof the comb. But, after all, he never forgot that he was a tiger; for if, byaccident, Peens pulled his hair, he would give a dreadful growl, andlook as if he would like to eat him up in a minute. Then Peens wouldstop for a moment, until he was good natured again. A few weeks ago this beautiful and intelligent tiger died. In his lasthours he mewed constantly with pain, like a great cat, and was onlyquiet when Peens came to the bars, and stroked his cheeks. When thekeeper went away, he would call after him. Peens felt very badly at losing his tiger; and I am sure he must havebeen a very kind keeper to him. Even a tiger may be taught love and gratitude by kind treatment. ELIZABETH SILL. (_Adapted from the German. _) PETERLIN ON HIS TRAVELS. PETERLIN was a chick just five days out of the shell. He began to thinkhe was somebody now. The old cornfield became too narrow for him. Hemust start out on his travels, and see something of the world. Biddy, his mother, clucked and scolded away at him, and told him how hemight lose himself in the grass, and never find his way home. But it was of no use. The mother's warnings were unheeded. Off startedPeterlin; and, before he was well aware of it, the cornfield lay farbehind him, and he found himself standing on a rock, and gazing forthover the wide world. The valley lay open before him. Dear me, what a world it seemed!--sovery vast! With fright and amazement Peterlin looked down on all themagnificence till he felt himself growing giddy. [Illustration] He stood on the brink of an abyss; and far beneath him flowed a streamthrough the blooming land; and over the waters moved proud vessels withtheir white sails and their waving flags. All at once Peterlin saw a bird in the air. "Oh, dear! what if it shouldbe a vulture?" thought he, trembling in every joint. "Oh, if I were onlyonce more under my good old mother's wing! Oh! how I wish I had mindedher warning!" Off ran Peterlin back through the grass, back over the ploughed field, along by the edge of the wood; and then he heard a noise, --"cluck, cluck, cluck!" "Oh, joy, joy! That is my mother's voice!" thought he. Yes, it was Biddy's voice, calling her runaway child. She approached himat a quick run; and it was not till he was safe under her wing that thequick beat of his heart slackened, and he felt once more at peace. Peterlin then and there resolved that he would wait till he was olderbefore he started again on his travels. FROM THE GERMAN. ON THE GATE. WHERE are you going? Have you got Any thing good to eat In that big basket? Let me peek! Do you live on our street? I'm six years old to-day; aren't you Surprised? I wish you'd wait! I'll tell you something, if you will, And swing you on our gate. This is my grandpa's house. I wish He was your grandpa too! I guess your mother'll let you come And stay with me; don't you? I'm making patchwork: it's to keep The heathens warm. I hate To keep in-doors. I wish I could Swing all day on the gate! Have you a doll? Yes? Mine got drowned: Joe threw her down the well; But pretty soon I'm going to buy A new one; don't you tell! My bank is almost full; I'll let You shake it, if you'll wait: Pa said he'd fill it if I would Stop swinging on the gate. [Illustration] We've got some kittens in the barn; They're way up in the loft: I like to hold them in my lap, They feel so warm and soft. Joe broke my little spade one day, Digging the earth for bait: Does your big brother call you names, And pull you off the gate? I go to school. I'm at the head: You ought to hear me spell! I and another girl are in The class. There goes the bell! I'll have to run, and get my books. Oh, dear! I shall be late: Another scolding I shall get For swinging on the gate! H. B. GEORGE'S BOAT. [Illustration] GEORGE had a boat on a little stream that ran not far from the house. The boat was flat; and George pushed it along with a pole. It did not gofast. One day Mabel asked her brother if she might go in the boat with him. George said, "Oh, yes!" So he pushed up to the shore, and helped Mabelin. Then he pushed off. How far did they go in the boat? As far as the bridge, by the greatelm-tree. George thought that was far enough. [Illustration] Rover saw George and Mabel in the boat, and he wanted to go too. He randown to the shore, and barked. But George said there would not be roomfor him. [Illustration] There was a place where the grapevines hung over the water. Georgepushed the boat to the place; and he and Mabel picked some grapes. [Illustration] By and by the sun was almost down. George and Mabel thought it was timeto go home. Their mother had told them to come home before dark. W. O. C. THE LITTLE CARPENTER. THE picture of the little boy on the opposite page is from a photographfrom life: so you may look on it as on a real likeness of some one inEngland. I do not know his name; but I think he must be some one whoseparents have fitted up a little carpenter's shop for him, so that he maylearn to do something useful. The picture reminds me of a true story. About sixty years ago, there wasa rich man in Germany, of the name of Reinhold, who had seen so much ofthe changes of life, that he resolved that each of his children, bothboys and girls, should learn some useful trade or profession. Rudolf, the eldest boy, learned to be a carpenter. But, when he wastwenty-one years of age, he came into the possession of a large fortune. He married, and thought that he had so much money that he could neverspend it all. But, before he was fifty years of age, the whole of his largepossessions had melted away. Some of his stately houses had been burneddown; and the insurance-offices had failed. Some men he had trusted hadproved dishonest; and many schemes that he had entered upon had turnedout badly. At the age of forty-six, Rudolf Reinhold took up the business of acarpenter, which he had learned between the ages of fourteen andeighteen. He soon became skilful, and turned his attention to buildinghouses in the city of Berlin. So successful was he, that in ten years hewas once more a rich man. One of his daughters had become a dressmaker, and another amusic-teacher; and even when, at last, they were once more rich, theyalways felt glad that their father had made them accomplish themselvesin useful pursuits, instead of leading lives of idleness andself-indulgence. UNCLE CHARLES. [Illustration: THE LITTLE CARPENTER. ] LITTLE MISCHIEF. X. BESSIE'S mother had an aquarium. If you do not know what that is, I willtell you. The Latin word _aqua_ means water; and the name _aquarium_ hasbeen given to a glass case holding water for fishes and for sea-plants. [Illustration] One day, when the pretty gold-fishes were not swimming about in a verylively manner, Bessie thought it must be because they were cold. "Poorthings!" said she, "there is no fire in the room; and the water feelsquite chilly. It must be sad to swim about in cold water all day. Whatcan I do for them?" XI. Although there was no fire in the room, there was a jug of hot water onthe hearth, which Susan had left there a few minutes before. "How fortunate!" thought Bessie. "Now I can give these poor littlefishes a nice hot bath. They will like it, I know. What a kind littlegirl they will think me!" [Illustration] So she took the jug, mounted into the arm-chair, and poured the wholejugful of water on the fish. It made them very lively; and Bessie putdown the jug, jumped off the chair, and got a stool to stand on to watchthe little things through the glass. XII. Soon the little fishes grew still; and then, one by one, they rose tothe surface, and turned over upon their backs. Bessie had never seenthem do that before; and she began to feel a little frightened. Shewished they would move their fins, and begin to swim again; but they didnot: they lay quite still. [Illustration] At last she put in her hand, and drew one out of the water, so that shemight look at it closer. Then she could no longer doubt what was thematter with it. The poor fish was quite dead, --cooked, in fact. Bessieburst out crying, and sobbed as if her heart would break. [Illustration] WALTER'S DOG. "MAMMA, why can't I have a collar for Fido, like that on Charley'sdog?"--"You must wait until our ship comes in, " said his mother, laughing. Walter believed that a ship was really coming, and set to thinking ofthe things that he hoped it would bring him. Then he called Fido, andtold him how much he wished to give him a collar. If Fido had known how to speak, perhaps he would have said, "I don'tcare much about a collar: I get along just as well without it. " But Fidocould not speak English, though he barked smartly when Walter said, "Speak, sir. " I must tell you some of Fido's funny ways. He would sit up on hishaunches, drop his fore-paws, and wait for Walter to put a piece ofbread on his nose; then he would sit quite still while Walter counted, "One, two, three;" and, at the word "three, " he would give his head atoss, and catch the bread in his mouth. Fido had a great taste for music. There was one tune in particular thathe was very fond of; and, when it was played on the piano, he wouldbegin to make a whining noise, which would grow louder and louder, untilit ended in sharp, quick barks, keeping time with the music. Waltercalled this "Fido's singing. " Fido liked dancing-tunes; but there was a friend of his, one of theneighbor's dogs, that liked only psalm-tunes. He would whine solemnlyuntil a lively tune was struck up; when he would slink away in manifestdispleasure. He would not countenance such frivolity. So you see, dogs have their fancies as well as human beings. [Illustration] [Illustration] THE HORSE THAT LOVES CHILDREN. THIS is a picture of the horse that refuses to run over children. Hisname is Prince. Once his master was driving him along a narrow street, when Prince saw an infant creeping along across the street right in hisway. Prince at once slackened his speed; and though his master, who did notknow that the infant lay in the way, touched him with the whip, Princeknew better than to hurt the poor little infant. At last the good horse stopped short, and refused to move. His mastergot out of the buggy to see what was the matter; and there, close by thehorse's fore-feet, was a baby on its knees. Was not Prince a good, wise horse to refuse to harm the baby? Anothertime, when a little boy came up behind him, when the flies werepestering him, Prince, instead of kicking him, just lifted up one of hishind-feet, and pushed him gently away. Prince is very fond of sugar; and, as his master's little girls used tofeed him with it, I think that is one reason why he is so kind to allchildren. Whenever Prince sees these little girls, he will make a queerwhinnying noise, the meaning of which is, "Oh, do give me a lump ofsugar!" In the picture, the hostler is offering Prince some oats; but Princeknows that the man has some sugar, and so he refuses the oats. He wantshis sugar first. ANNA LIVINGSTON. HOW TADDY LEARNED HIS LESSON. TADDY and his mamma had just got nicely settled, she with some sewing, and he with a little primer, out of which he was beginning to learn hislesson, when mamma was called away to see a neighbor who was sick. Sheonly stopped to tell Taddy to study his lesson like a good boy, whileshe was gone. But, instead of looking on his book, the little boy, assoon as he was left alone, began to look out of the window. In an openlot behind the house he saw grown-up Jamie, who lived next door, skatingon a little sheet of ice. Taddy's eyes began to grow round. "Don't I _wish_ I was a big boy too, so I could skate!" he said to himself. Then he saw Jamie take off his skates, and lay them down on the ice, andgo off on an errand for his mother. All at once it popped into Tad's head to slip down the back-stairs, andout through the gate, and just _see_ if he could not skate. [Illustration] "I'm sure, " said he, "it can't be so very hard: the boys do it _so_easy! What if I do tumble down a few times at first! I don't mind alittle bump. " So he sped down the stairs, tied on his cap and scarf, tucked hismittens in his pocket, and was off for the ice. "The skates are too long for me, but that is no matter. I know how toput them on. There! now they're on. Hurrah! here I g--! Oh!" Down he sat, before he had hardly got upon his feet. He got a hard bump;and his bare hands rubbed upon the ice till they were so cold, that, ifhe hadn't made up his mind to be stout-hearted, he would have been gladto go in and warm them. But he pulled out his mittens, saying, "I must get up slowly: that's theway the boys do. " So he raised himself on his hands and knees first, planting one foot at a time firmly before trying to stand. But, as hewas straightening up his back, somehow his heels slipped up; and thistime it was his poor little head that rapped so smartly upon thetreacherous ice. Taddy lay still a minute, not feeling quite so hopeful about the nextattempt; when he happened to see a little tree just a few steps off. Sohe crept quickly over to it, feeling sure now of success. Catching holdof it, he helped himself up to a firm stand, saying, "Now, I must putone foot out at a time, so, --and then the other. Oh! I can do it now. " So he tried again. One beautiful stroke, then another, and over he wentagain, flat on his nose! But this was not all. Such a crash as even hislittle body could make was too much for the ice, which happened to berather thin around that friendly tree; and, by the time Taddy had pickedhimself up, he was above his knees in water. There was a terrible acheat his nose; and he put up his hand to warm it a minute, but wasfrightened to find his mittens all spotted with blood. This was too muchfor him. He sent forth a cry that would have made your heart ache. Just then Jamie came back; and there he found poor Taddy standing in thewater, holding out one hand, and looking at the bloody mitten throughhis tears, the other covering tightly his aching nose; while a bigpurple bump was rapidly appearing on his forehead. "Halloo! what's going on?" shouted Jamie. Taddy's story was very humble;and kind-hearted Jamie carried him into the house, where his mother wasjust inquiring for him. "I left my little boy to learn another kind of lesson, " she said. "Butperhaps the one he has taught himself will do as much good. " M. L. THE OLD CLOCK. [Illustration] "[Illustration: T]ICK, tock! tick, tock!" That is what the old clocksaid. And the boy sat at a table near by, and leaned his head upon hishand, and put the end of the pen-holder in his mouth, instead of writinghis theme on the "Flight of Time. " "Tick, tock! tick, tock!" said again the old clock; and then there was alittle buzzing noise, and the old clock began to strike; and all at oncea little door over the dial-plate opened, and there stood a little birdcrying, "Cuckoo, cuckoo!" And over the bird, on the top of the clock, alittle man started up in a red coat, with sabre and musket complete, andbegan to march backwards and forwards. Henry did not look up to see the bird and the little man; for he wantedto be out in the garden at play with his sister, instead of trying towrite a theme on the "Flight of Time. " At last Henry finished his theme in these words: "Time does not fly atall fast for me when I am trying to write a theme. On the contrary, itseems very long indeed. We ought to improve our time. We ought to work. Life is short. My theme is ended. And now, having written the requirednumber of words, I will go out in the garden, and see if any peacheshave fallen during the night. " So Henry ran out in the garden; and he and his sister had a good frolicamong the flowers and the fruit-trees. Whether he got a good mark, thenext day at school, for his theme on the "Flight of Time, " I cannot tellyou. CARL HEINSMAN. [Illustration] IN THE MAPLE WOODS. IN the early spring, when the snow melts, thousands of men in theNorthern and Western States are busy making maple-sugar. If you haveseen only the dirty-looking brown cakes of maple-sugar sold in manyplaces, you know very little about it. I have seen it as white as snow, although it is generally brown. Then there is the nice sirup; and didyou ever eat any maple-candy? Well, I will tell you a story. Willy and his sisters lived in Vermont, where a great deal of maple-sugar is made. One spring, when their Cousin Leonard came to see them, they thought it would be fine fun to go to the maple woods, where the men had been making sugar, and try to make some candy. It was a bright day, not very cold, although some snow was still left upon the ground. "Mother, " said Willy, "may we go to the woods to-day, and make some maple-candy?"--"Yes, " said his mother, "only be careful not to wet your feet. "--"Oh! what a nice time we will have!" said the two girls; and they all clapped their hands for joy. In a few minutes their mother had put them up a nice luncheon. Then they took a small kettle, two or three tin cups, three spoons, and a hatchet. These things they packed upon a hand-sled; and, when all was ready, they set out at a brisk pace through the fields, over the snow, the boys drawing the sled, and the girls following close behind. [Illustration] There was a good path, and they soon came to the woods. On the edge of the woods was a hut, where the men rested sometimes while making sugar. The children thought they would play that was their house. Nobody was there that day: so they had it all to themselves. A little way out of the woods were two large stakes with a pole across them, on which hung a large kettle. Some half-burnt logs and ashes were under the kettle, but the fire was all out. A pile of wood was not far off; and branches of trees, chips, and logs were scattered around. The children gathered dry leaves and sticks, and made a fire in a safe place. The next thing to do was to get some sap to boil into candy. What is sap? It is the juice of a tree. When the warm spring sunshine melts the snow, the roots of the tree drink in the moisture of the earth. This goes up into the tree, and makes sap. The sap within the tree, and the sunshine without, make the buds swell, and the bright fresh leaves come out. For making sugar the sap of the maple-tree is used. But how is the sap got from the trees? and how is it made into sugar? I will tell you. A hole is bored in each tree, a spout put in the hole, and a bucket is placed underneath. This is called "tapping the tree. " The sap runs from the tree into the bucket, drop by drop, until it is full. Then the sap is boiled till it becomes sirup; and the sirup is boiled into sugar. The children found that the sap was dropping from the spouts in the trees around them. Some of the buckets were nearly full. They soon gathered enough into their little tin cups to fill their kettle; and then they put it on the fire to boil. While it was boiling, they thought they would eat their luncheon. What do you suppose they had besides bread? I will tell you. They had thin slices of _raw_ meat. "But did they eat it raw?" perhaps you will ask. Oh, no! The boys whittled out some clean, pointed sticks, on which they held their meat close to the fire till it was roasted to a beautiful brown; and then you cannot think how good it tasted. After eating their bread and meat, they had some nice crullers and cheese to end off with. Well, by and by the sap in the little kettle had boiled into sirup. Then the children brought some clean snow in their cups, and carefully dipped a spoonful of hot sirup into each cup. The snow cooled it at once, and turned it into clear, hard candy. I wish you could have had some of it to eat! I know they thought it was delicious. Soon after they had eaten their candy, they put out the fire with snow, and went home, having had a very happy time; and they did not forget to take candy enough with them for mother and little sister, and all the rest of the family. ANNA HOLYOKE. [Illustration] WHERE IS THE BABY? OH! who has seen my baby? Does anybody know Where I can find my darling, My precious little Joe? The house is very lonesome; No baby do I see: Oh! if my missing treasure Would but come back to me! Ah! here is a young lady, Just four years old to-day, Who tells me that my darling Is not so far away. What! this great girl my baby? Well, well, it must be so; But, really, it's amazing To see how babies grow. KATE CAMERON. [Illustration] THE BIRD'S RETURN. "WHERE have you been, little birdie, -- Where have you been so long?" "Warbling in glee Far o'er the sea, And learning for you a new song, My sweet, -- Learning for you a new song. " "Why did you go, little birdie, -- Why did you go from me?" "Winter was here, Leafless and drear; And so I flew over the sea, My sweet, -- So I flew over the sea. " "What did you see, little birdie, -- What did you see each day?" "Sunshine and flowers, Blossoms and bowers, And pretty white lambkins at play, My sweet, -- Pretty white lambkins at play. " "Who kept you safe, little birdie, -- Who kept you safe from harm?" "The Father of all, Of great and of small: He sheltered me under his arm, My sweet, -- Under his dear, loving arm. " GEORGE COOPER. [Illustration] [Illustration: THE DUCKS AND GEESE. ] [Illustration: Music] THE DUCKS AND GEESE. Words from "The Nursery. " Music by T. CRAMPTON. _Lively. Mf_ 1. Spring is coming, spring is here! All ye ducks and geese draw near! Into ponds and streamlets dashing; Come, ye waddlers join the splashing! Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack! Good soft mud and running water, Now waddlers shall not lack. Now the snows are melting, going, Now the little streams are flowing; Buds are swelling, birds are singing, Odors sweet the wind is bringing; Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack! Good soft mud and running water, Now waddlers shall not lack. Little girls and boys are straying, Or in sunny meadows playing, Seeking buttercups and clover, While their hearts with joy run over; But--what goose can't see it plainly?-- Spring for _us_ is given mainly. Quack, quack, &c. * * * * * Transcriber's Notes: Page 124, double word "time" removed. Original text read, "what a nicetime time we will have!" 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.