Chapter I: WANT to tell you about the little squirrel we have. His name is

Frisky. He came from New Jersey, and was quite tame when we got him. We thought it would be better to let him out in the fresh air among the trees; so we let him out.

I was away at aunt Lizzie's; but I came home early. Just as Henry and I were going to bed,--Henry is my brother,--the cook called me, and, of course, Henry came after me to see what was the matter.

I could not understand what it was at first; but pretty soon I saw it was Frisky up in one of the trees on our place. Frisky never bites: so it was not much trouble to catch him.

All the servants were there; but they could not catch him, because he did not know them: so I made them stand back, and held out a peanut to him. He came down and ate it; then he trusted me, and came down and ate another. As soon as I got him within reach, I seized him and gave him to William, the gardener, who, while I held the door open, popped him into his cage. I am eight years old, and my name is

MARY WINSOR.

VOL. XXX.--NO. 2.]

A TURTLE SHOW.

DOWN in the pond, where willows grow
Along the shore in a golden row,
Is a single rock with its mossy ridge,
And a log as mossy, resting there
Half in the water, and half in the air,
From shore to islet a beautiful bridge;
And the lily-pads on either side
Might tempt the little green frogs to ride;
And the lily-blooms, so purely made,
Do tempt the little white feet to wade.

What do you think I saw one day
In the month of June, as I passed that way?
Five little turtles, all in a row,
On the top of the log,--a funny show,--
For they carried their houses on their backs,
And tucked their toes out through the cracks
Under the eaves! while their heads and tails
Played hide-and-seek behind the scales.

They had golden dots on every shell;
And they stood so still, and "dressed" so well,
You might think they were called up to spell;
And a "master" turtle, big and brown,
On the top of the rock sat looking down
In a learned way, as you might say
To "put out words,"--and perhaps 'twas so,
Though I heard no word,--but this, I know,
The five little heads looked so very wise
With their little bead eyes, they must have heard
If ever the master pronounced a word.

In school or not, it was getting hot;
And by and by, as the sun rose high,
With the June-like drowsiness it sheds,
They could not keep from going to sleep;
And what do you think they did with their heads?
Swallowed them! Oh, then, laugh, if you will;
But true it is, still:
Into their necks, as a sailor would slide
His spy-glass into its leathern hide,
They slid their five little heads away
From the sight of man and the light of day.

While I stood watching them, still as a mouse,
Pleased at their comical way to keep house,
I heard a terrible splash and croak,
As a great bull-frog leapt up on the log,
In a way to frighten such simple folk.
Five little turtles, quick as a wink,
Into the water slip and sink;
And one big turtle, just as quick,
Off from the log goes down like a brick.

Ah, well! my turtles are not like boys,
They can live in the pond, and they do hate noise!

GEORGE S. BURLEIGH.

THE CHIMNEY-SWEEP.

LITTLE Mary in the picture is afraid of Jacob, the chimney-sweep. He does look black and ugly; but he is a good boy, for all that, and Mary ought not to be afraid of him.

His parents died when he was very small, and he was bound out to a master, who taught him how to clean chimneys. Jacob did not like the work at first, and was afraid to go up the chimney; but now that he has got used to it, he likes it quite well. He sometimes sings a merry song while he is at work.

Mary's mother has sent for him to come and clean out her chimney; for it is choked up with soot, and she cannot make her fire burn.

LEONORA, from the German.

BILLY AND BRUISER.

BILLY is a small boy: Bruiser is a big dog. They are great friends. Billy gets on Bruiser's back, and treats him as if he were a horse.

Bruiser takes this as a good joke. He likes to have Billy play with him in this way. But it would not be safe for anybody else to do it.

Bruiser is a grand watch-dog. One day the old dog gave a fierce growl to keep off a butterfly.

He thought the butterfly was going to attack Billy. Billy had a good laugh at this; for, small as he is, he thinks he is a match for a butterfly.

UNCLE CHARLES.

TWO LITTLE MAIDENS.

THIS little maiden is out for a walk,
A fair little maiden is she;
And I really believe she is having a talk
With a bird flying down from a tree.
She asks him to tell of his home in the woods;
He sings of the summer so gay;
While a very tall maiden sits by on the grass,
And hears every word that they say.

F. E. D.

"IF I WERE ONLY A KING."

ONE fine, warm, summer day, four children were playing together in the garden.

"Oh!" said one of them, "if I were only a king, I would live in a beautiful castle that should reach up to the clouds."

"And I," said another, "would wear nothing but gold and silver clothes."

"If I were one," cried a little boy, "I would do nothing but eat cake and pudding all day long."

"And I," said a little girl, blushing, "would give money to all the poor children I saw, so that they might buy food and clothes."

Which of these children do you think would have made the best ruler?

LEONORA, from the German.

USE BEFORE BEAUTY.

THE hens and turkeys were scratching for their breakfast in front of the barn-door; while the dog lay lazily looking on. The proud peacock stood on the fence near by, and spread his tail out, that the morning sun might shine on it, and make it still more beautiful.

"Ah!" said the peacock to one of the hens, "do you not wish that you were as handsome as I am? Then you would never have to scratch for your food, but would be fed and taken care of and admired."

"I wish nothing of the kind," said the hen. "There is something which men prize more than beauty, and that is usefulness. If I were as fine and gay as you are, men would miss the eggs I lay."

"That is just my view of the case," said a goose. "If I were not a goose, I should like to be a hen. I would not be a lazy peacock."

"She is quite right," said the dog. "You are very beautiful to look at, Master Peacock, but that is all you are good for. Take comfort in your fine feathers, but don't boast."

LEONORA, from the German.

SUMMER RAMBLES.

BRING the children to the fields,
Where the sheep are straying;
With the birds and butterflies
Let them now be playing,--
In the hollow on the hill,
All the green lawn over,
Through the yellow buttercups,
Down among the clover.

With the sunshine in their hearts,
In their cheeks the roses,
Let them breathe the balmy air,
Let them gather posies.
In the merry month of June,
Summer's fairest weather,
Let the children and the flowers
Bud and bloom together.

ANNA LIVINGSTON.

TEN MINUTES WITH JOHNNY.

"DO grandpa's cows chew gum, like Mr. Connor's cows, mamma?" asked Johnny, a few days ago, as he stood emptying his pockets of hay-seed on the dining-room carpet, after a visit to the barn.

"Cuds you mean, don't you, dear?" asked mamma.

"No, gum. Mr. Connor says it's gum; and they're his cows: so he knows."

"No, grandpa's cows chew cuds, like all good grass-eating cows. Perhaps Mr. Connor's cows do not eat grass or hay."

"Yes, they do," said Johnny. "I've seen 'em."

"Well, then," said mamma, "they must chew cuds."

"What are cuds, mamma?"

"Why, after the cow has chewed the fresh green grass or the dry hay in her mouth, she sends it down into a large stomach, to be soaked; then she sends it into another stomach, to be rolled into balls; then up it goes into her mouth again, to be chewed over; and each little ball is a cud."

"Doesn't she have any other stomach for it to go into then, mamma?"

"Yes, two more. Do you have four stomachs, like a cow?"

"No, of course I don't. I don't chew cuds."

"Well, you may get a brush and dust-pan, and brush up that hay-seed from the carpet; then come with me, and I'll show you a picture of a giant kangaroo with her baby in a fur bag."

"Oh! where does she live, mamma?"

"Brush up that hay-seed, then I'll tell you all about her," said mamma. With this promise in view, Johnny hastened to brush up the litter he had made, talking to himself the while, somewhat after this wise,--

"Chew away, old cow! You'll have to keep your big teeth going all night to keep all those stomachs at work. One stomach, two stomachs, three-e-e, four-r-r. All ready, mamma!"

MRS. G. I. HOPKINS.

A CAT STORY.

DID you ever see a cat laugh? Look at the cat in the picture, and see if she is not laughing. It is plain to me that she is.

What is she laughing at? Why, that is plain enough too. She is amused at the talk of those two little girls about her kittens.

There are four kittens,--just two for each; but little Jenny wants to take them all up in her arms, though she can hardly hold more than one. This is what pleases the old cat.

Now I am going to tell you a cat story.

Once, when I taught school in the country, I boarded at farmer Clark's house, where there were sixteen cats,--Yes, sixteen cats! There was a big yellow cat, and a big gray cat, and a big black-and-white cat, and lots of little kittens.

The big gray cat was named Gussy. She was the grandmother of them all. She lived in the house. The rest staid around the barn. Farmer Clark was a good man, and did not believe in killing any thing that was not dangerous to life or property. So no little kittens were drowned, if he knew it.

Mrs. Clark taught me how to make butter; and I was told to feed the skimmed milk to the cats. There were two large dish-pans that I used for this purpose. They were shallow and leaky; but precious little time there was for the milk to leak.

As soon as I appeared at the door, and called, "Tom, Tom!" the cats came tumbling, pell-mell, mewing, and rubbing against me. It was a sight to see.

First, there would be a thick row of cats around the pans,--so thick that only sixteen tails and thirty-two hind-legs could be seen. The next minute the heads would go lower, and the fore-paws would go up on the edge of the pans.

Then a kitten would jump in. Then they would all fight, and push, and spit, and snarl to get to the lower side of the pan, where the milk was the deepest.

And then it was all gone. And the pans would be licked clean. And then sixteen tongues licked sixteen jaws, and thirty-two eyes appealed for more. But it was no use to beg. Then sixty-four legs trotted off, and only old Gussy went into the house; while the others went to the barn.

There were no rats or mice around those premises, I tell you. I often wonder how many cats there are at farmer Clark's now. And sometimes I dream about them. This is a true story.

AUNT FAN.

TOM'S APPLE.

"BAH! ugh! oh!" cried little Tom. "There's a worm in my red apple, mamma."

"Is he a pretty worm?" asked his mamma, looking up from her sewing.

"Pretty, mamma! Who ever heard of a worm being pretty? No, no! he's a horrid crawling thing. I sha'n't eat any more of the apple. I couldn't, now I've seen him in it."

"Let me see him," said mamma: so Tommy brought the apple to his mother.

"Why, yes, he's a beauty," said she. "Just look at that little red cap he wears, and see how soft and white his skin is. If nobody had picked that apple, he would have spun a little rope from out his body, and let himself down from the high tree, down, down, to the earth.

"Then he would have crawled into a little hole in the ground. When he had covered himself all over with a gray sheet, he would sleep, sleep, sleep. But by and by he would awaken.

"He would come out of the tight shroud, and find that he had airy, gauzy wings with which he could fly: so he would go flitting and fluttering up into the warm sunshine to find an apple-blossom."

"What would he want of an apple-blossom?" asked Tommy, much interested now in his apple-worm.

"Oh, to lay an egg in," said mamma. "And, when the apple-blossoms grew, the egg would be softly wrapped within its pink heart. And when the blossom turned into an apple there would be a tiny baby-worm to feed upon the white pulp. Then some day, perhaps, some other little boy would exclaim, 'Bah! ugh! oh!' about him, as my little boy did just now about the mamma-worm."

"Oh!" said Tom thoughtfully. "I'm glad nobody will have that chance: here goes."

And he tossed the apple, worm and all, out of the window.

MRS. G. I. HOPKINS.

SEE-SAW.

Words by GEORGE COOPER. Music by T. CRAMPTON.

1. See-saw! high and low,
That's the way we love to go.
With a bound,
Up we fly,
From the ground
To the sky;
From the ground
To the sky.
All aboard for Fun-land, oh!
See-saw! high and low.

2. See-saw! birdies play
On the tree-tops, just this way;
And the bees
Rock the rose,
When they please
With their toes!
And the winds the wavelets blow,
See-saw! high and low.

3. See-saw! oh, what sport!
Wish the days were not so short!
Girls and boys,
Everywhere,
Rosy joys,
Earth so fair!
Gayer playmates do you know?
See-saw! high and low.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes: Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

The original text for the July issue had a table of contents that spanned six issues. This was divided amongst those issues.

Additionally, only the July issue had a title page. This page was copied for the remaining five issues. Each issue had the number added on the title page after the Volume number.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Nursery, August 1881, Vol. XXX, by Various