Chapter D: H. R. Goodale

WHEN WILL THE SNOW COME?

WHEN will the snow come, mother dear?
When will the soft white snow be here?
Upon my sled I want to go:
Oh for the snow! I long for snow.

I want to see it falling fast,
And covering all the ground at last,
So Dick and I can snowballs throw:
Oh for the snow, the splendid snow!

I look, as soon as it is light,
To see if all the earth is white;
I watch the clouds each day, but no,
There's not a single flake of snow.

I want to plunge about, waist deep,
In the great drifts so high and steep,
And wash Dick's face,--oh, you don't know
What lots of fun we have with snow!

We're going to build a fort, and you'll
See battles fought there after school!
And cannon-balls will fly--hallo!
Look! mother, look! here comes the snow!

ELIZABETH SILL.

A BASKET FROM HOME.

"HALLOA, boys! Here's old Trott, the expressman, coming into the yard. What do you suppose he has brought?" exclaimed one of a group of boys in the playground of a country boarding-school.

"It is probably a box for me," said one of the older boys, with rather an important air.

This boy, being somewhat selfish, was not a favorite with the little ones, one of whom whispered to another, "I hope it isn't for him, don't you? None of the rest of us will get a peep into it if it is."

Presently the wagon stopped; and Mr. Trott pulled out a basket, and reading the address, "Master Robert Rand," said, "Is there any boy of that name here?"

A bright little fellow answered quickly, "That is my name."

"Then this basket is yours," said the driver.

"Hurrah for you, Rob!" called out four other boys about his age. "Come on, we'll help you carry it in."

In a few minutes the same boys stood around the basket with eager eyes; and Rob and his cousin Willy were seated on the floor, unpacking it.

Oranges, lemons, and apples were soon displayed; then a pot of jam appeared.

"Halloa, what's down in that corner?" cried Tom, a youngster in Scotch cap and velveteen suit. "Isn't that a cake, though!" as a big round cake well stuffed with plums appeared.

"And there's a box of sardines," shouted another boy.

"What's in this paper bag?" said Rob. "First-rate! it's white sugar. That's for lemonade. Mother hasn't forgotten how much I like it."

So all the good things that Rob's thoughtful mother had sent him were one by one set out upon the floor.

Rob looked at each one with real delight, and, when the basket was emptied, he said,--

"Now, boys, there's some eating to be done, and I want you all to help me. It is Saturday afternoon: let us all go into the woods and have a regular picnic."

All agreed that this would be jolly fun. One boy (who had a brother in college) remarked that it would be "just immense."

Willy, the youngest boy, who was a great pet with the housekeeper, was sent to borrow a pitcher and tumblers, and whatever else was needed.

Instead of a pitcher, what do you think he brought back?--A teakettle, just like this!

"Why, what did you bring that for?" said Rob.

"Because I thought a pitcher wouldn't hold lemonade enough," said Willy.

"There's something in that," said Tom.

"We'll put something in it, anyhow," said Rob; and they all had a good laugh.

Several other boys joined them at Rob's invitation, and they soon found a pleasant, shady spot near a cool spring.

"Very handy," said Tom, "for making lemonade."

We have not space to tell all the good things that were said at the feast. In fact, there was no reporter present. But it was a jolly affair. When it was ended, three cheers were given for Robby Rand, and three more for his basket; and then the boys started for home, to wind up the fun with a game of ball.

UNCLE CHARLES.

A LETTER FROM HONOLULU.

LAST Christmas my mamma gave me a bound volume of "The Nursery," and I have been wanting to tell you how much I like it.

I live in Honolulu, way off in the Pacific Ocean. I wonder if many of your readers know what a pretty place Honolulu is. The town faces the open sea; but those who have been accustomed to the stormy Atlantic or the Northern Pacific would scarcely believe that this calm blue water is the ocean.

Back of the town are two mountains,--"Punch-bowl" and "Diamond Head." Between them there is a cocoanut-grove, near which there is a nice place for sea-bathing. As it is a short drive from town, we often go there to bathe, and have great fun. We have no winter here, and it is never too cold to bathe. I am trying to learn to swim.

Sometimes I get tired of having it always summer, and wish for the fun that the snow and ice bring, about which I read so much in "The Nursery."

I go to a kindergarten, and we learn a great many of your songs. Some of your poetry we have made into songs, and we like them very much. Last summer, at the closing exercises of our class, we played the "Kindergarten Game" published in the January number of last year, and every one was delighted with it.

If you like this letter I may write again, and tell you about a feast that I went to, in celebration of the birthday of the little Victoria-Kawekin-Kaiulani-Lunalilo-Kalaninuiahilapalapa. Is it not a pretty name? I cannot pronounce it all for I do not speak the native language. I am a little German girl and my name is

ALEXANDRA.

CHRISTMAS TIME.

T. CRAMPTON.

1. Come, stir the fire, 'tis Christmas time!
While loud the winds howl o'er us,
We'll hail the day with joyful lay,
And raise the swelling chorus.
Time, who brings both care and sorrow,
Bids them slumber till to-morrow,
Bids them slumber till to-morrow.

2 To joyous music's merry strain
Responsive hearts are beating,
And happy voices join amain
The carol, Christmas greeting.
Hearts with fondest rapture swelling,
Glow while lips their thoughts are telling.

3 Then raise the song for Christmas time,
While winds are loudly blowing,
With carol old and chorus bold
Our joyful praises showing,
Bright the old yule-log is beaming,
Let each soul of joy be dreaming.

* * * * *

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, November 1881, Vol. XXX, by Various