Chapter I: Front Matter

THE

NURSERY

_A Monthly Magazine_

FOR YOUNGEST READERS.

VOLUME XXII.--No. 4.

BOSTON:
JOHN L. SHOREY, No. 36 BROMFIELD STREET,
1877.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by
JOHN L. SHOREY,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

FRANKLIN PRESS:
RAND, AVERY, AND COMPANY,
117 FRANKLIN STREET,
BOSTON.

IN PROSE.

PAGE
The Parrot that played Truant 97
Feeding the Ducks 100
Chestnut-Gathering 104
A Day with the Alligators 107
The Spider and her Family 110
Why Uncle Ralph did not hit the Deer 113
Faithful Dandy 114
Emma and her Doll 117
Our old Billy 119
The Thrush feeding the Cuckoo 120
The Cat and the Starling 125

IN VERSE.

PAGE
A Baby Lay 101
The Pigs 106
How to draw a Goose 112
Learn your Lesson 116
Jippy and Jimmy 122
The jolly old Cooper 123
The Express Package 126
The White Owl (_with music_) 128

THE PARROT THAT PLAYED TRUANT.

LD Miss Dorothy Draper had a parrot. It was one of the few things she loved. And the parrot seemed to love her in return. Miss Dorothy would hang the cage outside of her window every sunny day. Sometimes an idle boy would come along, and poke a stick between the wires; and then the old lady would say, "Boy, go away!"

But one day, when the window was open, and the door of the cage was open also, Polly thought it was a good time to play truant. So she hopped out, rested on the sill a moment, and then flew into the street, from tree to tree, and from lamp-post to lamp-post.

Poor Miss Dorothy was in despair. How should she get back her lost pet? She called in a policeman, and he advised her to get out a handbill, offering a reward. So in an hour this notice was pasted on the walls near by:--

LOST!--A green-and-white parrot. It answers to the
name of Polly, and can talk quite plainly. It
says, "Boy, go away!" also, "Polly wants a
cracker," and "No, you don't!" Any one finding
this bird shall, on returning it to its afflicted
owner, Miss D. Draper, No. 10, Maiden Place,
receive a reward of two dollars.

Little Tony Peterkin was walking home from school, and wishing he had money enough to buy a copy of Virgil without going to his mother for it,--for she was a widow, and poor,--when he saw a man pasting this handbill on a wall. Tony read it, and said aloud, "Oh, I wish I could find that parrot!"

A girl who heard him said, "I saw a parrot just now on one of the trees in Lake Street."--"Did you?" said Tony; and off he ran. The parrot had flown from the tree to the top of the lamp-post; and when Tony got there, two women, a newsboy, and a policeman were looking up at the strange fowl.

It was the work of a second for Tony to spring at the iron post, and begin climbing up. "No, you don't!" cried the parrot. That frightened Tony, so that he almost dropped; but he took heart when he thought of the two dollars and a new fresh copy of Virgil.

Up he climbed; but just as he was going to put his hand on the little cross-bar under the lamp, "Boy, go away!" cried Poll. Tony's heart beat at these words; but he held on. "Poll, Poll, pretty Poll!" cried he: "come and get a cracker!"--"Polly wants a cracker," replied the bird.

The truth was, Polly was tired of the street, and wanted to get back to Miss Dorothy. So, when Polly heard Tony's kind words, she flew down to the cross-bar, and, when he held out his hand, she lighted on it, and Tony slid with her down the post to the ground.

"Well done, my lad," said the policeman. He went with Tony, carrying the bird, to No. 10, Maiden Place; and Miss Dorothy was so much pleased that she gave Tony three dollars instead of two. On his way home he bought that copy Of Virgil.

DORA BURNSIDE.

FEEDING THE DUCKS.

A MILD summer day, and one, two, three, four children sitting on the ground by the pond, and feeding the ducks!

But I think I hear the larger girl, who is standing up, say to the sitters, "Children, don't you know better than to sit there on the damp earth? You will every one of you catch a cold. Get up this instant."

That is what the larger girl ought to say; for many children take bad colds by sitting on the grass. The other day, as I went through the Central Park in New York, I saw a maid in charge of three children, one of them an infant, and she was letting them lie at full-length on the grass.

I told her she must not do so; but she said the weather was warm, and there was no danger. As I knew the parents of the children, I told her she must take the children up at once, and let them sit on the seats near by.

At length she obeyed me. Two days afterwards I called on the parents of the children, and then learned that every one of the little ones was ill with a cold. I told the mother what I had seen at the Central Park and she told the maid that never again must she let the children sit on the bare grass. The maid promised she would not do so again.

AUNT MATILDA.

A BABY LAY.

WHAT does the kitten say? "Mew, mew, mew!"
She shall have some nice milk, warm and new.

Up jumps the dog, and says, "Bow, wow, wow!
I'm as good as kitty, and I'm hungry now."

What does the cow say? "Moo, moo, moo!"
And the pretty little calf tries to say so too.

"Ba-a!" says the little lamb,--"baa, baa, baa!"
What does she mean? Is she calling her mamma?

The rooster struts around, and cries, "Cock-a-doodle-doo!"
As if that were just about the only thing he knew!

On the roof the gentle dove says, "Coo, coo, coo!
Love me, little girls and boys, for I love you."

What does the hen say? "Cluck, cluck, cluck!"
As she scratches for her chickens, and has good luck.

What does the bird say? "Peep, peep, peep!"
As, early in the morning, she rouses us from sleep.

What does our baby say? "Goo, goo, goo!"
See the loving glances in her eyes so blue;
How we rush to take her, at the slightest call!
Oh! the darling baby is the sweetest pet of all.

ELLA.

CHESTNUT-GATHERING.

DID you ever go chestnut-gathering? Such fun as it is! especially when a lot of girls and boys go together.

On one of my father's farms there were many chestnut-trees; and every autumn, after the first frost, when the leaves were all turning, and beginning to fall, we used to have chestnut-gatherings.

The boys used to get long poles, with which they would beat off the nuts. Sometimes they would climb the trees, and shake or beat off such nuts as they could not reach from below. And we girls used to help pick them up, and put them into baskets.

Some years chestnuts are very scarce. I remember one year there was only one tree that had any nuts on; and we could not reach them: not even a man could climb it.

One day, Henry, who was a very kind man, said, "Perhaps we will cut that tree down: it will make good rails, and then you children can get all the nuts."

We no sooner heard this than we gave him no peace till it was done. And such an event! For we were to see the tree cut down.

We children were stationed far away from danger; and another man and Henry chopped and chopped, till it was almost ready to fall, when they stepped back, and, in less than a minute, there was such a whistling through the air, such a crashing, and breaking of branches, and then a loud thud!

The tree was down. I felt quite breathless with excitement; and so did the others; for it was some minutes before we ran up to see how many nuts there were.

Oh, such lots! all spread around, and beaten out of the prickly burrs, all ready for us. I cannot remember how many we gathered, but it was some bushels; and we could not take all that day: so we concluded to return the next afternoon after school.

And what do you think? When we got there, not a nut was to be found! The little squirrels had been busy in our absence, and had taken away every one of them. Saucy squirrels! But we did not grudge them the nuts; for we had plenty.

AUNT JENNY.

THE PIGS.

THEY really are a pretty sight,
My little pigs, so small and white!
Their tails have such a curious kink;
Their ears are lined with palest pink:
They frisk about as brisk and gay
As school-boys on a holiday.
I watch them scamper to and fro:
How clean they look! how fast they grow!
But they are only pigs, dear me!
And that is all they'll ever be.

Beside their pen, above its wall,
A garden-rose grows fresh and tall,
Its blossoms, wet with morning dew,
The sweetest flowers that ever grew.
With every passing wind that blows
Comes scattered down a milk-white rose,
In leaves like scented flakes of snow,
Upon the little pigs below.
They only grunt, "Ur, Ur," and say,
"We want more milk and meal to-day.
The flowers may bloom, the flowers may fall,
'Tis no concern of ours at all."
For they are only pigs, dear me!
And that is all they'll ever be.

Upon the rose's highest bough
There often comes a robin now,
And sings a song so sweet and clear,
It makes one happy just to hear;
For never yet, on summer day,
Was sung a more delightful lay.
What care the little pigs below?
The bird may come, the bird may go;
For while he sings, "Quee, quee!" they squeal,
"We want some milk, we want some meal!"
For they are only pigs, dear me!
And that is all they'll ever be.

MARIAN DOUGLAS.

A DAY WITH THE ALLIGATORS.