THE
NURSERY

A Monthly Magazine

For Youngest Readers.

IN PROSE.

IN VERSE.

[97]

VOL. XXIX.—NO. 4.

LUCY.

[98]

You would not suppose that such a little tot could be left to herself a great while. But often, when she is tired of running about, her mother seats her in the great arm-chair, and there, with her doll in her arms, she sits and amuses herself for hours.

Jip the dog is very fond of Lucy, and very jealous of the doll. If he comes in and sees Lucy and her doll in the arm-chair, he begins to whine.

Then Lucy says in her baby-way (for she cannot yet talk plain), "Come here, Jip!"

Jip jumps up into the chair. Lucy puts her arm round him and pats him fondly. Jip looks up in her face, as much as to say, "Don't you love me, Lucy? Am I not as good as the doll? Why don't you pat me?"

Lucy knows what he means just as well as if he said it in words. "Yes, Jip, you good little dog, I do love you," she says, "and Dolly loves you too. You will take good care of us; won't you, Jip?"

And Jip seems to know what Lucy says; for he answers by another loving look, "Yes, Lucy, I will take care of you. Nobody shall harm you while I am here. I will be your watch-dog. But don't forget to pet me as well as your doll. I like to be petted."

Then Lucy pats him, and says, "Good little Jip, I will never forget you!" That makes him happy; and so they are both happy together.

[99]

A MERRY GO-ROUND.

THE SAVOYARD.

Savoy is in the eastern part of France, just south of the Lake of Geneva. You will easily find it on the map. It is a fertile country, but there are many poor people there who live chiefly upon chestnuts and potatoes.

Though fond of their birthplace, many of them leave it during the winters, and go to Italy, Spain, and other parts of France in search of work.

Carl, the boy in the picture, is one of this class. His[101] parents are too poor to support him, and he is sent out to seek his own living; but he is not a beggar. He earns something by raising guinea-pigs, which he sells to boys and girls for pets. He carries them, as you see, in a box slung from his neck. But they are so tame that he takes them out and lets them run up on his shoulders.

The guinea-pig, when full-grown, is not much bigger than[102] a large rat. In shape it is a good deal like a fat pig. When hungry it grunts like a pig. In color it is white, spotted with orange and black. It is a native of Brazil.

Guinea-pigs serve very well for pets. Some children are very fond of them. But old folks like me prefer pets of another sort.

A BEAR'S STORY.

I was a careless young cub, and one day, when at play on the river-side, I went too near the steep bank, fell over it, and went down splash into the water. It was very deep, and there was a strong current. I had never been taught to swim. I was in such a fright that I could not even cry for help.

The water was choking me, and I was nearly drowned,[103] when a kind log came floating by to my rescue. It seemed like a friend sent from home. I scrambled to the top of it, bade good-by to my sister, who stood crying on the bank, and went drifting down the river.

Before long two queer-looking objects came toward me, paddling along in a sort of hollow log. Seeing plainly that they were not bears, I felt much afraid of them. My mother had often talked to me about some fierce creatures called "men," and had told me always to keep out of their way.

I felt sure that these were men; but how could I get out of their way when I was adrift on a log? They came right down upon me, and there I sat, whining and crying and trembling. "What were these dreadful men made for?" thought I. "Why can they not leave us poor bears in peace?"

I fully expected to be killed. But, instead of killing me, one of the men took me in his arms, and held me till we came to the shore. Then I wanted to go back to my mother, and I tried to get away. But he held me all the tighter, and after a while he tied my feet together. I could do nothing but cry, and at last I cried myself to sleep.[104]

When I awoke I found myself in this town, called "Big Rapids," and here I have been ever since. It seemed to me very strange at first not to be in the woods, but in the midst of queer-looking white objects called "houses."

I started to take a walk, hoping to fall in with some bear of my acquaintance; but a hard thing fastened to my neck held me back. It is what men call a "chain," as I have since learned, and it compels me to stay in one place all the time.

I am no longer a cub, but am a full-grown bear. This kind of life does not suit me very well, but I have got used to it. One can get used to almost any thing. I have even got used to the society of men and women.

Their cubs (called boys and girls) often play with me, and sometimes they tease me. Once, when a boy was teasing me, I gave him a scare which will be apt to teach him better manners. I will tell you how it was.

The boy held out an apple, and, just as I was about to take it, he pulled it away. This mean trick he played three[105] times. He tried it once more, and then I gave such a spring that my chain broke.

The boy dropped his apple, and ran. You ought to have seen that boy run! He didn't dare even to look back. But, if he had looked back, he would have seen me munching his apple with great relish.

I didn't want to hurt a cub like him; but some bears that I know wouldn't have been so for-bear-ing.

SECRETS.

[106]

GOING TO SCHOOL.

[108]

TAKE CARE.

[109]

LETTER FROM CHINA.

There are four boys and three girls. The two youngest boys, Dwight and Louis, are twins. They are the emperors.

Their reign began nearly three years ago. Master Ted, the next elder brother, who was then emperor, had to give way to them, and very sweetly he did it. It was hard for him to see his dear old Chinese nurse transfer her love and care to any one else; and even now, when he hears her call one of the emperors her "little pet," he says to her, "But you know you have a big pet too."

Thus far the twin-emperors have had none but loyal subjects;[110] but, as they grow out of their babyhood, there are signs of rebellion. The three sisters rebel because Emperors Dwight and Louis will not let them practise their music-lessons in peace. Ted says, "Do find me a place where I can pound nails alone;" for the emperors will insist upon helping him.

The emperors have already learned to walk, though they talk only in a language of their own. When they begin to talk plainly in the language of their subjects, I fear that their reign will come to an end.

The picture shows you how ten-year-old brother Ned takes his three little brothers to ride on his donkey.

KINGS AND QUEENS.

[111]

[113]

DRAWING-LESSON.
VOL. XXIX.—NO. 4.

[114]

THE BIRD WHO HAS NO NEST.

There are some birds that can take care of themselves almost as soon as they are born; but Mrs. Cuckoo never leaves her eggs in their nests. Oh, no! she chooses a nest in which the young birds are well cared for by their mothers, and fed with food on which the young cuckoos thrive best.

Why she is too idle to build her own nest, no one knows. Some people say it is because she stays so short a time in the same country, that her young ones would not get strong enough to fly away with her, if she waited to build her nest. Others think it is because she is such a great eater, that she cannot spend time to find food for her children.

But the kind foster-mothers, the larks and the thrushes, care for the egg that the cuckoo leaves in their houses, although, if any other bird leaves one, they will take no care of it at all, but roll it out upon the ground.

The Scotch word for cuckoo, gowk, means, also, a foolish person. But I think they ought rather to have named it a wicked person; for the young cuckoo is so ungrateful and selfish, that he often gets one of the other little birds on his back, and then, climbing to the top of the nest, throws it over the edge. These are the English cuckoos of which I have been telling you. I am glad to say that their American cousins take care of their own children.

[115]

A SHRINE.

This box is attached to a stone pillar or other fixed monument, and thus marks a place at which the pious Catholics kneel to offer up their prayers.

In Italy and Spain shrines are very common, not only in the churches, but at the roadsides. The picture shows us[116] one with a little girl holding a bunch of flowers in front of the sacred image which she sees in it.

In this country they are to be seen only in churches; but we often speak of any hallowed place as a shrine.

[117]

SUSIE'S DANCING-LESSON.

Thus Ann will say, "What is the matter, Susie? Are[118] you hungry? No. Are you sleepy? Not a bit of it. Do you want me to tell you a story? No. Are you tired? No. I have it: you want a good dose of exercise. That is the very thing you need. Come here now, and I'll give you a dancing-lesson."

She takes Susie's hands, and whirls her out on the floor[119] before she has time to say a word. Then Ann begins to sing,—

"What!" says Ann. "Haven't you had dancing enough? Well, then, how would you like a fancy dance? Mind your steps now. Do as you see me do. Keep time with the music.

So the little girl is danced about until she has to stop to take breath; and by that time she is so full of fun, that there is no room for a frown on her pretty face.

FIVE LITTLE SPARROWS.

[121]

DOBBIN'S COMPLAINT.

[122]

THE DESERTED HOUSE.

To-day I called again. All was still. Not a voice did I hear. The roofless house was filled with snow. The walls looked dark and sad. The leaves that once cast lovely shadows about them were gone.

As I stood looking at the empty house, Ethel, who is very young but very wise, exclaimed, "The family have gone south for the winter, but are sure to come back in the spring. There will be gay times here pretty soon."

Just then a sharp gust of wind came, and the old house shook as if about to fall. Ethel stood ready to catch it.

What, a child catch a falling house, as if it were a baseball! What if the timbers should strike her? Ah! but this house was a very light building. Snow and all, it was not much heavier than a handful of roses.

Now you know what I mean. Vine Street runs from the floor to the top of the piazza. The swallow homestead is[123] just at the head of that street. The timbers are sticks and straw. The roof is the sky. And, as to the happy little family of Mr. and Mrs. Swallow, if you come here in the month of May, I will show them to you in their home.

TOMMY TUCKER.

[124]

DAME TROTT AND HER SON.

In this little house lives good Dame Trott, who keeps eggs and milk for sale. She has two cows and a flock of hens. Her son John helps her to take care of them. He is a very good boy.
	John is just ten years old. He goes to school. When the school is done for the day, he goes out to the field to drive home the cows. Here you may see him on a fence at the end of the lane. He wears a queer sort of frock. D. E. F.

[125]

BOSSY'S FRIGHT.

Some check had to be put upon her. So one day she[126] went to the pasture with her head tied down to her foot by a strong rope. In about three hours a man came running up to the house, to tell us that old Bossy had fallen over a log, and was lying on her back.

Now, if a cow gets down on her back, in this way, in a place where she cannot turn over, she is in great danger. It is called being "cast." This man said, "Come quickly, for old Bossy is cast." Every one ran to the pasture, and by much pulling and lifting got the cow up. She looked very happy to be on her feet once more; but as soon as the rope was cut she was at her old tricks again.

The very next day she was found quietly eating down a neighbor's corn. Something must be done. We did not like to tie her head down again: so we concluded to put a board over her eyes.

The board was brought, and fastened with cords to her horns. She stopped chewing her cud at once and stood still. The men left her in the lane that led to the pasture, and went to their work. She did not move. I don't think she even whisked her tail to drive away the flies.

When the men came home to dinner, they were surprised to see her still standing in the very place where they left her. They patted her kindly, took the board off, and saw on her forehead a spot as large as a man's hand, where the hair had turned grayish-white. There was not a bit of white on her forehead before the board was put on. The poor thing had begun to turn gray from sheer fright.

We all felt sorry for her; and the board was never again tied to her horns. After a time she began to chew her cud, and seemed all right; and she went on pushing down the fences, and opening the gates, just as often as before. This is a true story.

[127]

A BLUEBIRD'S SONG.

There's a glad merry voice, children, calling to you, A gay burst of song from a wee bit of blue, Poised daintily there on the maple-twig now, Like a bright little blossom upon the bare bough,— "Tu-ra-la, tu-ra-lee, We're coming, you see: I'm building my nest in the old apple-tree. "To you, little children, this message I bring, The birds, every one, will return with the spring. What care I if cold winds are blowing around! The flowers are already awake under ground. Tu-ra-la, tu-ra-lee: If snowflakes I see, I'll dream they are blooms shaken off from the tree. "Hark! the shy little brooklet is humming a song As it breaks loose from winter, and dances along. How happy we'll be through the blithe summer hours,— The children, the sunbeams, the birds, and the flowers! Tu-ra-la, tu-ra-lee: How busy we'll be, My sweet mate and I, in the old apple-tree!" RUTH REVERE.

[128]

THE BIRD'S RETURN.