Chapter XII

Soon the little fishes grew still; and then, one by one, they rose to the surface, and turned over upon their backs. Bessie had never seen them do that before; and she began to feel a little frightened. She wished they would move their fins, and begin to swim again; but they did not: they lay quite still.

At last she put in her hand, and drew one out of the water, so that she might look at it closer. Then she could no longer doubt what was the matter with it. The poor fish was quite dead,--cooked, in fact. Bessie burst out crying, and sobbed as if her heart would break.

WALTER'S DOG.

"MAMMA, why can't I have a collar for Fido, like that on Charley's dog?"--"You must wait until our ship comes in," said his mother, laughing.

Walter believed that a ship was really coming, and set to thinking of the things that he hoped it would bring him. Then he called Fido, and told him how much he wished to give him a collar.

If Fido had known how to speak, perhaps he would have said, "I don't care much about a collar: I get along just as well without it." But Fido could 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 his haunches, drop his fore-paws, and wait for Walter to put a piece of bread 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 a toss, and catch the bread in his mouth.

Fido had a great taste for music. There was one tune in particular that he was very fond of; and, when it was played on the piano, he would begin to make a whining noise, which would grow louder and louder, until it ended in sharp, quick barks, keeping time with the music. Walter called this "Fido's singing."

Fido liked dancing-tunes; but there was a friend of his, one of the neighbor's dogs, that liked only psalm-tunes. He would whine solemnly until a lively tune was struck up; when he would slink away in manifest displeasure. He would not countenance such frivolity.

So you see, dogs have their fancies as well as human beings.

THE HORSE THAT LOVES CHILDREN.

THIS is a picture of the horse that refuses to run over children. His name is Prince. Once his master was driving him along a narrow street, when Prince saw an infant creeping along across the street right in his way.

Prince at once slackened his speed; and though his master, who did not know that the infant lay in the way, touched him with the whip, Prince knew better than to hurt the poor little infant.

At last the good horse stopped short, and refused to move. His master got out of the buggy to see what was the matter; and there, close by the horse's fore-feet, was a baby on its knees.

Was not Prince a good, wise horse to refuse to harm the baby? Another time, when a little boy came up behind him, when the flies were pestering him, Prince, instead of kicking him, just lifted up one of his hind-feet, and pushed him gently away.

Prince is very fond of sugar; and, as his master's little girls used to feed him with it, I think that is one reason why he is so kind to all children. Whenever Prince sees these little girls, he will make a queer whinnying noise, the meaning of which is, "Oh, do give me a lump of sugar!"

In the picture, the hostler is offering Prince some oats; but Prince knows that the man has some sugar, and so he refuses the oats. He wants his 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 his lesson, when mamma was called away to see a neighbor who was sick. She only stopped to tell Taddy to study his lesson like a good boy, while she was gone. But, instead of looking on his book, the little boy, as soon as he was left alone, began to look out of the window. In an open lot behind the house he saw grown-up Jamie, who lived next door, skating on 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, and go off on an errand for his mother.

All at once it popped into Tad's head to slip down the back-stairs, and out through the gate, and just _see_ if he could not skate.

"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 a little bump."

So he sped down the stairs, tied on his cap and scarf, tucked his mittens in his pocket, and was off for the ice.

"The skates are too long for me, but that is no matter. I know how to put 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, if he hadn't made up his mind to be stout-hearted, he would have been glad to go in and warm them.

But he pulled out his mittens, saying, "I must get up slowly: that's the way 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 he was straightening up his back, somehow his heels slipped up; and this time it was his poor little head that rapped so smartly upon the treacherous ice.

Taddy lay still a minute, not feeling quite so hopeful about the next attempt; when he happened to see a little tree just a few steps off. So he crept quickly over to it, feeling sure now of success. Catching hold of it, he helped himself up to a firm stand, saying, "Now, I must put one 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 went again, flat on his nose! But this was not all. Such a crash as even his little body could make was too much for the ice, which happened to be rather thin around that friendly tree; and, by the time Taddy had picked himself up, he was above his knees in water. There was a terrible ache at his nose; and he put up his hand to warm it a minute, but was frightened to find his mittens all spotted with blood. This was too much for 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 the water, holding out one hand, and looking at the bloody mitten through his tears, the other covering tightly his aching nose; while a big purple 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 was just inquiring for him.

"I left my little boy to learn another kind of lesson," she said. "But perhaps the one he has taught himself will do as much good."

M. L.

THE OLD CLOCK.

"ICK, tock! tick, tock!" That is what the old clock said. And the boy sat at a table near by, and leaned his head upon his hand, and put the end of the pen-holder in his mouth, instead of writing his theme on the "Flight of Time."

"Tick, tock! tick, tock!" said again the old clock; and then there was a little buzzing noise, and the old clock began to strike; and all at once a little door over the dial-plate opened, and there stood a little bird crying, "Cuckoo, cuckoo!" And over the bird, on the top of the clock, a little man started up in a red coat, with sabre and musket complete, and began to march backwards and forwards.

Henry did not look up to see the bird and the little man; for he wanted to be out in the garden at play with his sister, instead of trying to write a theme on the "Flight of Time."

At last Henry finished his theme in these words: "Time does not fly at all fast for me when I am trying to write a theme. On the contrary, it seems 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 required number of words, I will go out in the garden, and see if any peaches have fallen during the night."

So Henry ran out in the garden; and he and his sister had a good frolic among the flowers and the fruit-trees. Whether he got a good mark, the next day at school, for his theme on the "Flight of Time," I cannot tell you.

CARL HEINSMAN.

IN THE MAPLE WOODS.

IN the early spring, when the snow melts, thousands of men in the Northern and Western States are busy making maple-sugar. If you have seen only the dirty-looking brown cakes of maple-sugar sold in many places, 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 did you 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.

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.

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.

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.

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 nice time time we will have!"

This issue was part of an omnibus. The original text for this issue did not include a title page or table of contents. This was taken from the January issue with the "No." added. The original table of contents covered the entire year of 1873. The remaining text of the table of contents can be found in the rest of the year's issues.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Nursery, April 1873, Vol. XIII., by Various