Chapter I: Front Matter

THE

NURSERY

_A Monthly Magazine_

FOR YOUNGEST READERS.

VOLUME XXIX.--No. 4.

BOSTON:
THE NURSERY PUBLISHING COMPANY,
NO. 36 BROMFIELD STREET.
1881.

Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1881, by
THE NURSERY PUBLISHING COMPANY,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

& SON.

UNIVERSITY PRESS.]

IN PROSE.

PAGE
Lucy 97
The Savoyard 100
A Bear's Story 102
Take Care 108
Letter from China 109
Drawing-Lesson 113
The Bird who has no Nest 114
A Shrine 115
Susie's Dancing-Lesson 117
The Deserted House 122
Dame Trott and her Son 124
Bossy's Fright 125

IN VERSE.

PAGE
A Merry Go-round 99
Secrets 105
Going to School 106
Kings and Queens 110
Good-Night 116
Five Little Sparrows 119
Dobbin's Complaint 121
Tommy Tucker 123
A Bluebird's Song 127
The Bird's Return (_with music_) 128

LUCY.

LUCY is three years old. She is one of the happiest little girls that I know, and one of the sweetest too. That is saying a good deal; for I know a great many very charming little girls.

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.

UNCLE CHARLES.

A MERRY GO-ROUND.

WHAT a merry go-round!
Not a ghost of a sound
As the snowflakes dance and spin:
Won't the wind play the flute,
Now the birds are all mute,
And the crickets have stopped their din?

The brook would be glad
To tinkle like mad,
If the snowflakes would only wait
Till the season is June,
And its voice is in tune
For their service, early and late.

Then the brown bee would hum,
And the frogs beat the drum,
And robin would lead the band:
Such a merry go-round,
To such a sweet sound,
Was ne'er known in snowflake-land.

MARY N. PRESCOTT.

THE SAVOYARD.

THIS boy, as you may see by his looks, is not one of our American boys. He is a native of Savoy, and is dressed in the costume of the peasants of that country.

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 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 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.

UNCLE SAM.

A BEAR'S STORY.