| By Author | [ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Other Symbols ] |
| By Title | [ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Other Symbols ] |
| By Language |
|
Download this book: [ ASCII | HTML | PDF ] Look for this book on Amazon Tweet |
Title: The Nursery, Volume 17, No. 100, April, 1875
Author: Various
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Nursery, Volume 17, No. 100, April, 1875" ***
This book is indexed by ISYS Web Indexing system to allow the reader find any word or number within the document.
APRIL, 1875***
THE NURSERY
No. 100. APRIL, 1875. Vol. XVII
A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers
Boston:
John L. Shorey, 36 Bromfield Street.
American News Co., 119 Nassau St., New York.
New-England News Co., 41 Court St., Boston.
Central News Co., Philadelphia.
Western News Co., Chicago.
$1.60 a Year, in advance, Postage Included.
A single copy, 15 cts.
CONTENTS OF NUMBER ONE HUNDRED.
THE BOY WHO LOVED HIS MOTHER By Uncle Charles
FROWING AWAY ONE. By E.M.S
HUNTING FOR EASTER-EGGS
THE BEAUTIFUL SPRING By George Cooper
OUR CHRISTMAS PLAY
BABY'S PINK THUMBS By Olive A. Wadsworth
ABOUT FLAX, BARLEY, AND RYE
THE HARE WHO COULDN'T WAIT
THE DRAWING-LESSON
A SMART HORSE
ABOUT SOME INDIANS By Vaughn's Papa
THE FIRST-COMER By Marian Douglas
WIDE AWAKE By A.B.C.
THE FIRST ATTEMPT
THE CATARACT OF LODORE By Robert Southey
BOILING MAPLE-SUGAR By Uncle Charles
THE STOLEN BIRD'S-NEST By Emily Carter
THE FIRST BLUE-BIRD By Clara Doty Bates
THE LITTLE BIRD (Music by T. Grampian)
EDITOR'S PORTFOLIO.
The beautiful picture of The Cataract of Lodore, in our present number,
is well illustrated by Southey's famous lines which were written for his
little boys and girls, or, as he phrased it, "for the nursery."
We call special attention to the illustration of "The First Corner" on
page 117. It is a design by Perkins, exquisitely engraved by John Andrew
& Son.
"The Boy who loved his mother" is another picture that is worthy of
special notice. The "Drawing-Lesson" by Weir, should attract the
attention of all children who want to learn to draw.
Canvassers will find from our terms that we offer them rare inducements
for extending the circulation of "The Nursery." It is poor economy, even
in the hardest times, for parents to neglect what may largely contribute
to the education of their children.
"The Easy Book" and "The Beautiful Book," are now recognized as Standard
works for the young, and continue to be in great demand. To these we
shall soon add "The Nursery Primer," which will surpass everything of
the kind yet got up.
"Next to a baby," writes a subscriber in Charlotte, Mich., "there never
was such joy in a household as 'The Nursery.' My little girl will repeat
nearly every poem, though she does not know a letter. My boy is just
two, and such a yell of delight when he finds a '_bow-wow_,' as he calls
the dog, all to himself, would astonish a Piute Indian. I don't have to
keep any 'cramp drops,' 'baby jumpers' or 'patent food,'(?) for the
children. I find they never have an ail or grievance, but 'The Nursery'
acts as a specific. I wish every mother in the land would give it to her
children on trial. And really it makes old people feel quite sunny."
It will be seen by a notice in our advertising pages, that the Publisher
of "The Nursery" is prepared to execute various commissions in the way
of purchasing and forwarding books, Maps, Games, Stationery, &c., for
parties desiring them.
[Illustration: THE BOY WHO LOVED HIS MOTHER.]
THE BOY WHO LOVED HIS MOTHER
When Felix was a little fellow, hardly two years old, he used to pet his
mother, and tell her how much he loved her.
As he grew up, he showed his love by his acts. He minded his mother; he
gave her his attention when she talked to him; and, if she told him not
to do a thing, he would not do it.
If she said, "Felix, don't do that," he would not fret, and say, "Why
not, mother?" Oh, no! He would at once give up what he was doing; for he
knew she would not, without some good reason, forbid him to do a thing
that pleased him.
Once, when Felix had grown to be six years old, his mother took him with
her on a journey in the railroad-cars to New York. It was a fine day in
June: the windows of the cars were open.
"Felix," said his mother, as they took their seats, "you may sit by the
window; but you must not put your head or your arms out of it."
Before she could explain to him her reasons for saying this, a friend
who had come in drew off her attention, by talking to her; so that she
forgot to explain to Felix why she did not wish to have him put his head
or arms out of the window.
In the seat just before him, Felix saw a large boy, who kept putting his
head out, although the boy's mother kept telling him not to do it. By
and by the cars rushed by a post, which stood so near the track that it
almost grazed the boy's head. He started back in a great fright, losing
his hat as he did so. He had a very narrow escape.
Felix now saw why his mother had given him the caution she had. He took
her hand in his, and looked up in her face. She smiled on him; for she
knew what was passing in his mind.
"Yes, Felix," said she: "if you had not loved your mother too much to
wound her by disobedience, you might have lost your life."
UNCLE CHARLES.
FROWING AWAY ONE.
I know three little girls who are sisters. Of course, they ought to love
each other dearly. When they stand up, they are like a flight of three
steps: baby is the lowest; Mattie is the middle step; and Susie is the
upper step, because she is tallest.
The baby is four years old, I know: so I guess that Mattie is almost
six, and Susie a little more than seven.
No two of you little people love each other more dearly than Mattie and
baby love each other. Where one is, the other always wants to be. They
sit and walk with their arms around each other. It is pleasant to see
them.
They both dearly love Susie too; but she is bigger, and doesn't seem to
belong quite so much to them as they seem to belong to each other.
One day their mamma was looking at them; and, thinking aloud, she said,
"Three little girls! What shall I do with so many? Don't you think I
have too many?"
Then baby looked earnestly into her mother's face, and said, "O, mamma!
if you _must_ frow one away, do frow away Susie."
Never you fear, little people, that Susie will be "frowed" away. Her
mamma has not one too many, though she has three little girls.
E.M.S.
HUNTING FOR EASTER-EGGS.
The Easter-egg is a painted or colored egg used for a present at Easter,
a day which occurs on Sunday, the second day after Good-Friday.
The term "Easter" is said to be derived from a Saxon word meaning
_rising_; and Easter is a festival of the Christian Church to
commemorate the resurrection.
In the picture, the children are hunting for Easter-eggs, which the good
mother has hidden in different parts of the room. The child who finds
the most eggs will have the pleasure of making presents of them to whom
he or she may choose.
Baby has set his eyes on the egg that lies on the floor. If he takes it
up, I hope he will not let it fall, and break it. The other children
will not be slow to find the painted eggs. There must be a dozen, or
more, of them hidden away.
THE BEAUTIFUL SPRING.
"I was here first," said the snowdrop: "look!"
"Not before me!" sang the silver brook.
"Why," cried the grass, "I've been here a week!"
"So have I, dear," sighed a violet meek.
"Well," piped a bluebird, "don't leave me out!
I saw the snow that lay round about."
"Yes," chirped a snowbird, "that may be true;
But I've seen it all the bleak winter through."
"I came betimes," sang the southwind, "I!"
"After me, love!" spake the deep blue sky.
"Who is it cares?" chimed the crickets gay:
"Now you are here, let us hope you'll stay."
Whispered the sun, "Lo! the winter's past:
What does it matter who's first or last?
Sky, brooks, and flowers, and birdies that sing,
All help to make up the beautiful spring."
GEORGE COOPER.
OUR CHRISTMAS PLAY.
Our Emily wrote a play for our Christmas entertainment. Emily, Ruth,
Mary, and Uncle Peter, all took part in it. The curtain fell amid very
great applause from grandma, grandpa, father, and Uncle Charles,
Brothers Robert and John, Jane, the housemaid, Aunt Alice, and some six
of our cousins. So you see we had a good audience. As it is the only
play we have ever seen acted, we may be too partial critics; but readers
must judge for themselves.
(EMILY _enters with a basket of shoestrings_)
EMILY.--Shoestrings to sell! Does anybody want shoestrings? Dear me, how
cold it is! To-morrow is Christmas, and I must earn money enough to buy
a basket of coal. Who wants a nice pair of shoestrings?
RUTH (_entering_).--This is a cold day, little girl, and you are thinly
clad. Now, if my Uncle Peter, were here I know what he would do: he
would buy you a shawl.
EMILY.--As soon as I get rich, I mean to buy one myself. Can I sell you
a pair of shoestrings?
RUTH.--What is the price?
EMILY.--Only two cents a pair.
RUTH.--Then you may give me three pairs. Here are six cents. (_Takes out
her purse, and pays_ EMILY, _but, in putting it back, lets it fall on
the ground._)
EMILY.--Thank you; and a merry Christmas to you!
RUTH.--I wish I could make your Christmas a merry one, poor child; but I
have done what I could. Good-by. (_Goes out._)
EMILY.--Oh, if more such customers would come along, how glad I should
be! Will any one buy a nice pair of shoestrings? (_Sees the purse, and
picks it up._) What is this on the ground? A purse! And it has money in
it. One dollar, three dollars--Dear me! That young lady must have
dropped it. I must run and give it to her. Where is she? (_Puts down her
basket, and goes out._)
(MARY _enters, and looks at the basket._)
MARY.--A basket on the sidewalk! What does it mean? (_Takes it up._) It
is full of shoestrings. I will take it to my mother, and ask her to
find the owner. (MARY _takes up the basket, and is going out, when_ RUTH
_enters._)
RUTH.--Are you the girl I bought shoestrings of?
MARY.--No: I have not sold any. These are not mine.
RUTH.--Have you seen any thing of a purse about here?
MARY.--No: I have seen no purse. (_Goes off-with the basket._)
RUTH.--- Oh! here comes the little girl I was looking for; and she has
my purse in her hand. (_Enter_ EMILY.) That is my purse, little girl.
EMILY (_giving_ RUTH _the purse_).--Take it. I was looking for you. But
where is my basket of shoestrings?
RUTH.--Why, that little girl yonder has it. See her there, crossing the
street.
EMILY.--It is my basket. She has taken what does not belong to her.
RUTH.--Run, and bring her to me. (EMILY _starts to go out._) Stop! What
is your name?
EMILY.--Emily Swift.
RUTH.--Well, Emily Swift, I think you are mistaken in supposing that the
little girl meant to steal your basket. Bring her to me. (EMILY _goes
out._) What a pleasant thing it would be to have a purse so full, that
one could keep on giving from it, and never find it empty! But here come
the children.
(EMILY _leads in_ MARY).
EMILY.--Here she is. She says she was taking the basket to her mother,
so that her mother might find the owner.
RUTH.--And do you doubt her word?
EMILY.--Doubt her word? Not I! She is too good a little girl to tell a
falsehood. Just look in her face, and you will see that she speaks the
truth.
RUTH.--Yes, Emily Swift, you are right.
EMILY.--Goodness me! What is that thing coming this way?
MARY.--I am afraid of it. Is it a man?
RUTH.--As I live, it is Uncle Peter!
EMILY.--Who is Uncle Peter?
RUTH.--He is the man, who, every Christmas, buys as many toys as he can
carry, and gives them to good children. Here he comes.
(_Enter_ UNCLE PETER, _comically dressed, and covered from head to foot
with all sorts of toys, he is followed by boys and girls. He dances and
sings to music._)
UNCLE PETER'S SONG.
"Christmas comes but once a year, once a year, once a year! So
follow me, my children dear, children dear, children dear: So
follow me, my children dear, on Christmas Eve so joyful!"
(_After dancing, he takes_ EMILY _and_ MARY _by the hand, and runs off
with them, followed by the rest._)
As this is Emily's first play, and she is only nine years old, I hope
the critics will not be too severe upon it. If well performed, it will
be found, I think, far more amusing in the acting than in the reading.
BABY'S PINK THUMBS.
The snow had quite covered the ground,
The wind whistled fiercely and chill,
When a poor little storm-beaten bird
Flew down on the broad window-sill.
Within, there was comfort and wealth;
Gay pictures half covered the wall;
The children were happy at play;
And the fire shone bright over all.
Without, there was famine and frost;
Not a morsel of fruit or of grain;
And the bird gave a piteous chirp,
And tapped with his beak at the pane.
Then baby climbed up on a chair,
Forgetting his trumpets and drums:
He doubled his two little fists,
And pointed with both his pink thumbs.
"See, see!" and he laughed with delight,
"Pretty bird, pretty bird: here he comes!"
When the bird, with a bob of his head,
Made a peck at the baby's pink thumbs.
Then the children called out with great glee,
"He thinks they are cherries, or plums,
Or pieces of apple; and so
He tries to eat baby's pink thumbs."
"Poor birdie!" said mamma: "we know
That God for his creatures will care;
But he gives to his thoughtfuller ones
The pleasure of doing their share.
"We softly will open the sash,
And scatter a handful of crumbs;
And, when birdie wants breakfast again,
He needn't peck baby's pink thumbs.
"He may come day by day, if he will,
To a feast on the broad window-ledge,
And fly, when he's eaten his fill,
To his home in the evergreen hedge."
OLIVE A. WADSWORTH.
ABOUT FLAX, BARLEY, AND RYE.
Arthur had been looking at some pictures in a book; but he did not quite
understand what they were: so he called on Uncle Oscar to explain.
Uncle Oscar took him on his knee, and said, "This, Arthur, is a picture
of the flax-plant, a very useful plant indeed; for from it we make
linen. Your apron is linen: so are the collar and wristbands on my
shirt.
"The flax-plant bears delicate blue flowers, which look very pretty
when in bloom. Flax is raised very largely in Kentucky, and other States
in the Union. Do you know what part of the plant is the stalk? I will
point it out to you in the picture.
[Illustration: FLAX.]
"Well, from this stalk the thread, or fibres, are got, out of which
linen cloth is made. The flax is pulled a little before the seeds are
ripe: it is stripped, and the stalks are soaked in water. The flax is
then dried, and broken and beaten till the threads, or fibres, of the
bark are fit for spinning. From the seeds, linseed-oil is made.
"Is it not strange, Arthur, that out of the stalk of this little plant
should be made the nice white linen of your apron and my handkerchief?"
Arthur thought it very strange. Then, pointing to another picture, he
said, "What's this, Uncle Oscar?"
[Illustration: BARLEY.]
"That, Arthur, is a picture of barley as it grows in the field. It
yields a very useful kind of grain. You have eaten it in soup, and also
boiled. Stripped of the husk, and rounded and polished in a mill, the
grains are pearly white; and then they are known as pearl-barley."
"Here's another picture, Uncle Oscar."
"Did you ever eat rye-bread, Arthur?"
"Why, yes, Uncle Oscar! we had it for breakfast."
Well, here is a picture of rye as it grows in the field. It is one of
the best of grain-bearing grasses. It will grow where the weather is
very cold. The straw is often worth almost as much as the grain.
[Illustration: RYE.]
"Rye grows on poor, light soils, which are altogether unfit for the
wheat out of which we make our white bread. Sometimes we mix rye-flour
with wheaten-flour, or with corn-meal, and so get a very good kind of
bread."
"Can I plant some flax-seed, and barley, and rye?" asked Arthur.
"Yes, my boy," said Uncle Oscar. "You shall have some to plant in your
garden next May. I think you will be pleased with the flax-plant,
because of its pretty blue-flower."
THE HARE WHO COULDN'T WAIT.
"There goes a hare," said Johnny to Max,
"Come, let us catch him: here are his tracks!"
But, while they were talking so wisely about it,
And Johnny was saying "We'll have him; don't doubt it,"
Behind them the hare, with a jump and a spring,
Ran swift as a swallow could dart on the wing;
And Max and Johnny looked round too late,
While his speed said, "Excuse me, but I can't wait."
THE DRAWING-LESSON.
We give here another outline from Landseer for our little readers to
copy. Perhaps they would like to know something about Sir Edwin
Landseer. He was born in London, in 1803, and died less than two years
ago.
He belonged to a family of artists. His father and elder brother were
skilful engravers. His brother Charles earned high rank as a painter.
But Edwin was the most famous of them all.
While yet a child, no bigger than some of the young-readers of "The
Nursery," he showed a great taste for drawing. He had an especial
fondness for drawing animals. His father encouraged him by giving him
pictures to copy; and soon his skill in copying became so great that his
father took him into the fields, and taught him to draw animals from
life.
In this way he soon acquired correct notions of color; and, at the age
of fourteen, he began to attract attention by his spirited paintings of
dogs, horses, and other animals. He continued to improve until he became
one of the most celebrated artists of his day. In 1850, he was knighted
by Queen Victoria, that is to say, he received the honorary title of
_Sir_ Edwin Landseer.
Mr. Harrison Weir, whose name is well known to our readers, is another
English artist, who makes a specialty of the same department of art in
which Landseer became so famous. His sketches are remarkable for their
truth to nature, and many of them would do no discredit to Landseer
himself.
Lay a piece of thin paper over the drawing-lesson, and trace the lines
of the picture. After a little practice, try to copy it without-tracing.
[Illustration: From Sir Edwin Landseer's painting. In outline by Mr.
Harrison Weir, as a drawing lesson.]
A SMART HORSE.
One morning, when the men went to the stable, our horse, Jenny, was
missing from her stall. On looking around, they found her in another
room, eating meal out of a chest.
Now, in order to do this thing, she must not only have untied her
halter, but have unfastened and opened a door, and raised the lid of the
chest; all of which were supposed to have been left safely closed.
We thought that she could not have done it all, but that some careless
person had left the chest open, and the door unfastened. So Jenny was
led back to her stall and tied up; the lid of the chest was shut down,
and the door closed and fastened with a hook.
About an hour afterwards, on entering the stable again, Madam Jenny was
found as before, with her nose deep in the meal-chest, munching away
with great relish. Then we _knew_ she must have unhooked and opened the
door, and raised the cover, as well as unhooked her halter.
Do you not think she was pretty smart for a horse? Papa says it was more
smart than honest to steal meal in that way. But I suppose horses do not
know much about honesty.
I liked Jenny all the better for her smartness, and I have made a great
pet of her since. As she is so fond of meal, I take care to give her so
much that she will not have to steal it.
She comes to me when I call her; for she knows that I am her friend, and
she often gets an apple from my hand. She looks at me so kindly through
her great eyes, that I am sure she would thank me if she could speak.
This is a real true story. MARY.
ABOUT SOME INDIANS.
Some boys and girls think Indians are dreadful beings; but my boy,
Vaughn, who is now more than three years old, thinks them a very good
sort of people. He was born in the Indian country, and is quite used to
them and their odd ways.
He often used to stand in the doorway, and say, "How, how?" to them as
they passed by; and they would smile, and say, "How, how?" back again.
This is the Indian way of saying, "How do you do?"
One day I was at work in the cellar, when I heard strange voices at the
front-door: so I went out to sec what was the matter. In front of the
house I found quite a number of Indian braves, with their squaws and
pappooses, all riding on sorry-looking ponies.
They had drawn up before the house, and were trying to make Vaughn and
his mamma understand that they were thirsty. One of the braves had a dog
under his blanket; and the little fellow looked very queer as he poked
his head out, and watched us. I pointed the band to the town-well, a
short distance down the street; and they said, "Ugh!" and rode away in
Indian-file.
Another day, an old Indian, with a nose like a young elephant's, rode up
to the drug-store, and asked, in Indian lingo, for some tobacco. The
druggist cut off a large slice of "black navy," and, stepping out on the
sidewalk, handed it to the happy old fellow, who, returning his thanks
by sundry nods and grunts, opened the folds of his blanket, and drew out
the most laughable tobacco-pouch you ever saw. As sure as you live, it
was a whole skunk-skin, with jaws, teeth, ears, and all!
Just as he was about to drive away, the lady-teacher and a drove of boys
and girls came pouring out of the school-room. The Indian looked a
little blank, and, glancing first at the lady and then at the children,
remarked admiringly, "Heap squaw! heap pappoose!" (The innocent old wild
gentleman had taken them all for one family).
A chief with his two squaws and two pappooses were coaxed into a
picture-car, one day, to be photographed. They seemed afraid of the
three-legged animal with the round glass eye; but, at last, one of the
squaws was induced to take her seat, baby in arms. The baby bawled
lustily, till I quieted him by jingling a bunch of keys, while the
artist got the focus.
Then I glanced through the camera, and the sight was so pretty and
queer, that I induced the chief to take a peep; and when he saw the very
minute copy of his spouse and child, standing on their heads, he nearly
shook himself to pieces with silent laughter.
VAUGHN'S PAPA.
THE FIRST-COMER.
The drift by the gateway is dingy and low;
And half of yon hillside is free from the snow:
Among the dead rushes the brook's flowing now.
And here's Pussy Willow again on the bough!
"Hi, ho, Pussy Willow! Say, why are you here?"
"I've brought you a message: 'The Summer is near!
All through the long winter, uneasy I've slept:
To hear the wild March wind, half listening, I kept.
"Loud blew his shrill whistle, and up and awake,
My brown cloak from off me I've ventured to shake;
Thrice happy in being the first one to say,
'Rejoice, for the Summer is now on her way!'
"The moss-hidden Mayflowers will blossom ere long,
And gay robin redbreast be trilling a song:
But, always before them, I'm sure to be here:
'Tis first Pussy Willow says, 'Summer is near!'"
MARIAN DOUGLAS
WIDE AWAKE.
"Jump up Johnny," said his mother. "It is seven o'clock, and breakfast
will be ready soon. The sun was up half-an-hour ago. The birds are
singing, and the sky is bright." John sprang out of bed at once, and was
soon washed. Then he put on his clothes, and brushed his hair.
He went down stairs looking as neat as a new pin.
As he was going to school that day, he saw a poor woman with a baby in
her arms. She sat on a door-step, and was pale and hungry. John put his
hand into his pocket, took some money out, and gave it to her. She
thanked him.
John then went to school, where he said his lesson; when school was
done, he played at ball till dinner-time.
A.B.C.
THE FIRST ATTEMPT.
Alfred has drawn a great many straight lines and houses and dogs and
cats; but this is the first time he has tried to draw a man. The profile
suits him very well. There are nose and mouth and eyes, that cannot be
mistaken. The hair, too, and the hat, are brought out with a strong
hand. All that is wanting now is the color; and this Alfred is putting
on. His paints are mixed on a broken plate, and he will soon give his
man a bright red cheek.
THE CATARACT OF LODORE.
DESCRIBED IN RHYMES FOR THE NURSERY BY ROBERT SOUTHEY.[A]
"How does the Water
Come down at Lodore?"
My little boy asked me
Thus, once on a time;
And moreover he tasked me
To tell him in rhyme.
Anon at the word,
There first came one daughter,
And then came another,
To second and third
The request of their brother,
And to hear how the Water
Comes down at Lodore,
With its rush and its roar,
As many a time
They had seen it before:
So I told them in rhyme,
For of rhymes I had store.
From its sources which well
In the tarn on the fell,
From its fountains
In the mountains,
Its rills and its gills,
Through moss, and through brake,
It runs and it creeps
For a while, till it sleeps
In its own little lake;
And thence at departing,
Awakening and starting,
It runs through the reeds,
And away it proceeds
Through meadow and glade,
In sun and in shade,
And through the wood-shelter,
Among crags in its flurry,
Helter-skelter,
Hurry-scurry.
Here it comes sparkling,
And there it lies darkling;
Now smoking and frothing
Its tumult and wrath in,
Till in this rapid race
On which it is bent,
It reaches the place
Of its steep descent.
The cataract strong
Then plunges along,
Striking and raging,
As if a war waging
Its caverns and rocks among;
Rising and leaping,
Sinking and creeping,
Swelling and sweeping,
Showering and springing,
Flying and flinging,
Writhing and ringing,
Eddying and whisking,
Spouting and frisking,
Turning and twisting,
Around and around,
With endless rebound:
Smiting and fighting,
A sight to delight in,
Confounding, astounding,
Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound.
Collecting, projecting,
Receding and speeding,
And shocking and rocking,
And darting and parting,
And threading and spreading,
And whizzing and hissing,
And dripping and skipping,
And hitting and splitting,
And shining and twining,
And rattling and battling,
And shaking and quaking,
And pouring and roaring,
And waving and raving,
And tossing and crossing,
And flowing and going,
And running and stunning,
And foaming and roaming,
And dinning and spinning,
And dropping and hopping,
And working and jerking,
And guggling and struggling,
And heaving and cleaving,
And moaning and groaning,
And glittering and frittering,
And gathering and feathering,
And whitening and brightening,
And quivering and shivering,
And hurrying and skurrying,
And thundering and floundering;
Dividing and gliding and sliding,
And falling and brawling and sprawling,
And driving and riving and striving,
And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling,
And sounding and bounding and rounding,
And bubbling and troubling and doubling,
And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling,
And clattering and battering and shattering,
Retreating and beating and meeting and sheeting,
Delaying and straying and playing and spraying,
Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing,
Recoiling, turmoiling and toiling and boiling,
And gleaming and streaming and steaming and beaming,
And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing,
And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping,
And curling and whirling and purling and twirling,
And thumping and plumping and bumping and jumping,
And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing;
And so never ending, but always descending,
Sounds and motions for ever and ever are blending
All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar,
And this way the water comes down at Lodore.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote A: Robert Southey, an English poet, wrote these lines, not
for _our_ "Nursery," but for all nurseries where children are gathered
and taught. The Cataract of Lodore is near Keswick, Cumberland County,
England. Robert Southey died in the year 1813.]
BOILING MAPLE-SUGAR.
Most of the sugar we use is made from the sugar-cane, which grows in
warm countries. But in France they make a good deal of sugar from beets;
and in North America, where the sugar-maple-tree grows, some very nice
sugar is made from its sap.
Early in spring, while the weather is yet cold, and before the trees
have begun to show many signs of life, it is the time for tapping the
maples.
The sun, which has already begun to make his power felt by melting the
snow, and leaving great green patches here and there on the cleared
lands, has kissed the rugged trunks of the trees, and has set the sweet
sap mounting through every vein and tissue.
Now is the time to set the troughs in order, and to bore the holes for
the little spouts through which the juice must run. These must be made a
foot from the ground, on the sunny side of the tree; and very soon the
drip, drip, of the oozing sap will be heard, as it trickles over the
spout into the rough bowls placed to catch it at the foot of every
maple.
As each trough fills, the juice is poured, first into a large barrel,
and from thence, when all is ready, into the great iron pot, or caldron,
slung over the wood-fire on three poles.
In the picture, you may see three brothers, with their two sisters,
engaged in collecting the sap, and boiling it till it can be cooled as
sugar. If you will look sharp, you can see little bowls placed at the
root of some of the trees, and the sap flowing into them.
A syrup is made from the sap, which is very delicate, and is much used
for buckwheat-cakes. A large quantity of maple-sugar is made every year
in the northern part of the United States, and in Canada. But it cannot
be made so as to compete with the sugar of the sugar-cane in cheapness.
UNCLE CHARLES.
THE STOLEN BIRD'S-NEST.
Once there were two little sparrows who built for themselves a nest on a
small tree by the wayside. The mother-bird laid four little eggs in it;
and there she sat, while her mate chirped merrily on a tree near by,
till, one fine day in May, four little sparrows were hatched.
How glad the parent-birds were! and how they flew round to get food for
their little ones! They were willing almost to starve themselves, so
that their children might not suffer from want.
Oh, what hungry children they were! How they would stretch out their
necks, and open their bills for food, as father and mother drew near to
feed them! And what queer little noises they would make, as if they were
saying, "Feed _me_ first! Oh, give _me_ that nice little worm! No, _I_
am the hungriest, give it to _me_! Me first! Me first!"
But the parent-birds seemed to know which of the children had not had a
full share; for they would always give it to those who needed it most.
But one day, one sad day, a man came by with his cart, and, seeing the
nest, took it with all the little birdies, and placed it on some straw
in his cart.
The parent-birds, wild with grief, flew round and round, but it was of
no use. Then they followed the cart, and continued to feed their young
as well as they could, though the cart was in motion.
But a little girl, whose name was Laura, and who was taking a walk with
her mother, saw the man remove the nest, and at once made up her mind to
try and get it away from him.
So she went up, and asked him if he would let her have the nest, if she
paid him for it. The man seemed a little ashamed when he saw Laura and
her mother; and he replied, "Well, little girl, it didn't cost me any
thing, and so you may have it for nothing."
"Oh, I thank you ever so much!" cried Laura. So she took the nest, with
the birdies in it; and then she and her mother found a safe place in the
notch of a tree, hidden from the road, and there they placed it.
Then they walked away, and stood at a distance, and watched till they
saw the parent-birds fly down from a high branch to their own nest, and
again begin to feed their little ones. How they twittered and chirped
with joy! The feeling that she had made the birds happy made Laura happy
too.
Every day, for a week, she came to see how the little family were
getting on. On the eighth day the nest was empty. They had all flown
away.
EMILY CARTER
THE FIRST BLUE-BIRD.
Gold-Locks thought just now,
Out on the apple-bough
Had fallen a bit of the sky.
"Blue it is; oh, blue!
And large as my hand," she cried.
Ah, what a wonder-eyed
Dear happy heart are you,
With all the world so new,
So bright, because untried!
Out I hurried to see
What the bit of sky might be,
When a tender piping note,
Soft as a flute, I heard;
And there upon a bough,
Wintry and bare till now,
In a sky-colored coat,
Trying his little throat,
Was perched the first blue-bird.
CLARA DOTY BATES.
THE LITTLE BIRD.
Words by LORD LYTTON.
Music by T. CRAMPTON.
[Music]
1.
The lit-tle bird fares well in Spring,
For all she wants she finds enough,
And ev'ry casual common thing
She makes her own without rebuff.
2.
First wool and hair from sheep and cow;
Then twig and straw to bind them fast,
From thicket and from thatch, and now,
A little nest is built at last.
3.
From out that little nest shall rise,
When woods are warm, a living song,
A music mix't with light that flies
Thro' flutt'ring shades the leaves among.
4.
O little bird, take everything
And build thy nest without rebuff,
And when thy nest is builded, sing!
For who can praise thy song enough?
* * * * *
COLGATE & CO. NEW YORK
VIOLET TOILET WATER.
CASHMERE BOUQUET EXTRACT.
CASHMERE BOUQUET Toilet Soap.
* * * * *
Good commissions or valuable premiums are given to agents for three
first-class union religious papers and one agricultural monthly.
Canvassers are making excellent wages. Agents wanted. Send for sample
copy and terms. Address,
H. A. KING, Box 2289, N. Y. City.
* * * * *
_Mamma! Mamma! Mamma_!
You ought to buy one of those
Weed Family Favorite
SEWING-MACHINES.
You can get your sewing done so quick, and then help me to build houses,
and set up my animals. They are the best, so get one, mamma. The
salesroom is at
349 Washington Street,
and MR. J. H. FOWLER, is the AGENT.
* * * * *
IN PRESS.
THE
NURSERY PRIMER.
A book by which children can teach themselves to read, with but little
help from parent or teacher.
SUPERBLY AND APTLY ILLUSTRATED.
The most beautiful Primer in the market. Containing upwards of a hundred
fine pictures. 96 Pages of the size of The Nursery. The word-system of
teaching explained and applied.
JOHN L. SHOREY,
36 Bromfield Street, Boston.
* * * * *
NOTICE.
Any of the following articles will be sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt
of the price named, viz:--
The Kindergarten Alphabet and Building Blocks, PAINTED: PRICE
Roman Alphabets, large and small letters, numerals, and animals, .75
" " " 1.00
" " " 1.50
Crandall's Acrobat or Circus Blocks, with which hundreds of queer,
fantastic figures may be formed by any child, 1.00
Table-Croquet. This can be used on any table--making a Croquet-Board, at
trifling expense 1.50
Game of Bible Characters and Events .50
Dissected Map of the United States 1.00
Boys and Girls Writing-Desk 1.00
Initial Note-Paper and Envelopes 1.00
Game of Punch And Judy 1.00
BOOKS will be sent postpaid, also, at publishers prices. Send orders and
remittances to
JOHN L. SHOREY,
Publisher of "The Nursery."
36 Bromfield Street, Boston, Mass.
* * * * *
CONSTANTINES PINE TAR SOAP FOR TOILET, BATH AND
NURSERY, CURES DISEASES OF SKIN AND SCALP MUCOUS COATING SOLD BY
DRUGGISTS AND GROCERS.
* * * * *
Webster's Unabridged Dictionary,
"THE BEST PRACTICAL ENGLISH DICTIONARY EXTANT."--_London Quarterly
Review, Oct_. 1873.
A NEW FEATURE.
To the 3,000 Illustrations heretofore in Webster's Unabridged we have
recently added four pages of
COLORED ILLUSTRATIONS.
engraved and printed expressly for the work, at large expense, viz.:
ARMS OF THE STATES AND TERRITORIES.
ARMS OF VARIOUS NATIONS.
FLAGS OF VARIOUS NATIONS.
UNITED STATES NAVAL FLAGS, &c.
Thus adding another to the many useful and attractive features of
Webster's Unabridged.
The National Standard,
PROOF.--20 TO 1.
The sales of Webster's Dictionaries throughout the country in 1873 was
20 times as large as the sales of any other Dictionaries. In proof will
be sent to any person on application, the statements of more than 100
Booksellers, from every section of the country. Published by
G. & C. MERRIAM, Springfield, Mass.
* * * * *
FAMILIES seek them "The Best," Dealers treble sales with
COLTON'S SELECT FLAVORS.
Pure, Rich _Flavoring Extracts of_ Choicest Fruits. One-third quantity
more than equals ordinary flavors.
* * * * *
THE LITTLE CORPORAL.
FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.
_Edited by EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER_.
This magazine has now been nearly ten years before the public, and has
secured for itself the highest reputation, for the excellence of its
reading matter, and the beauty of its illustrations.
Its conductors aim to provide in each number wholesome entertainment for
the Little Folks, Young Folks, and Old Folks _with young hearts._
Terms $1.50 a year, _Postage Paid_. Clubs of 5 names at one time, $1.10
each _Postage Paid_. Specimen numbers 10 cents.
Beautiful Premiums for clubs.
JOHN E. MILLER, Publisher,
164 Randolph St., Chicago, Ill.
* * * * *
Ladies at Home
And Men who have other business, wanted as agents. Novel plans, pleasant
work, GOOD PAY. Send 3-cent stamp for particulars. THE GRAPHIC COMPANY,
39-41 Park Place. New York.
* * * * *
MAUCK'S HERALD.
A $3 Weekly for $2.
8 LARGE PAGES, 48 LONG COLUMNS.
Each number is complete, and everybody likes it. Gives a weekly record
of the world's doings. In its columns will be found a choice variety of
Gems in every department of Literature, of interest to the general
reader. Its contents embrace the best Stories, Tales of Adventure,
Thrilling Deeds, Startling Episodes, Sketches of Home and Social Life,
Sketches of Travel, Instructive Papers on Science and Art, Interesting
Articles on Agriculture, Horticulture, Gardening and Housekeeping,
Choice Poetry, Essays, Correspondence, Anecdotes, Wit and Humor,
Valuable Recipes, Market Reviews, Items of Interesting and Condensed
Miscellany. Free from Sectarianism, there is always something to please
all classes of readers, both grave and gay.
As a Family Paper, it has merits that no similar publication possesses.
The large amount and great variety of popular and valuable reading
matter in each number is not excelled by any other paper.
Sample 6 cents; with two chromos, 25 cents. $2 a year. Try it three
months for 50 cents. Say where you saw this. Value and satisfaction,
guaranteed. More agents and subscribers wanted everywhere.
The Nursery and Mauck's Herald,
Both one year, postpaid, for $2.25.
Address L.W. MAUCK, Cheshire, Ohio.
* * * * *
WATERS' NEW SCALE PIANOS
_are the_ best made, Prices low _for_ cash, _or on_ installments.
_Illustrated Catalogues Mailed_.
Waters' CONCERTO Organs
_cannot be_ excelled _in_ tone _or_ beauty; _they_ defy
competition. Monthly payments _received._ Prices low _for_ cash,
_Illustrated Catalogues mailed_
WATERS' NEW UPRIGHT PIANOS.
_have_ great power _of_ tone _and_ elasticity _of_ touch, _and
are_ first-class instruments. Prices low _for_ cash. Installments
_received_. Agents wanted. _Illustrated Catalogues Mailed_.
HORACE WATERS & SON,
481 Broadway, New York. P. O. Box 3567.
* * * * *
PRETTY PAPERS FOR PAPER DOLLS.
Send 15 cents, and get 20 varieties by mail.
C.W. JENCKS & BRO., Providence, R.I.
* * * * *
The Nursery.
TERMS--1875.
SUBSCRIPTIONS.--$1.50 a year in advance. Three copies for $4.00 a year;
four copies for $5.00; five copies for $6.00; nine copies for $10.00;
each additional copy for $1.10; twenty copies for $20.00, always in
advance.
POSTAGE (_10 cents a year_) _for each copy must be paid to the Publisher
at the time of subscription_. All Magazines win be sent postpaid.
A SINGLE NUMBER will be mailed for 15 cents. _One sample number will be
mailed for 10 cents_.
VOLUMES begin with January and July. Subscriptions may commence with any
month, but, unless the time is specified, will date from the beginning
of the current volume.
BACK NUMBERS can always be supplied. _The Magazine commenced January,
1867_.
BOUND VOLUMES, each containing the numbers for six months, will be sent
by mail, postpaid, for $1.00 per volume; yearly volumes for $1.75.
COVERS, for half-yearly volume, postpaid, 35 cents: covers for yearly
volume, 40 cents.
PRICES OF BIDDING.--In the regular half-yearly volume. 40 cents; in one
yearly volume (12 Nos. in one), 50 cents. If the volumes are to be
returned by mail, add 14 cents for the half-yearly, and 22 cents for the
yearly volume, to pay postage.
REMITTANCES may be made at our risk, if made by check, money-order, or
in a _registered_ letter.
* * * * *
IN CLUB WITH OTHER PERIODICALS.
(ALL POSTPAID.)
Scribner's Monthly $4.00, and The Nursery, $4.75
Harper's Monthly 4.00, and The Nursery, 4.75
Harper's Weekly 4.00, and The Nursery, 4.75
Harper's Bazar 4.00, and The Nursery, 4.75
Atlantic Monthly 4.00, and The Nursery, 4.75
Galaxy 4.00, and The Nursery, 4.75
Old and New 4.00, and The Nursery, 4.75
Lippincott's Magazine 4.00, and The Nursery, 4.75
Appleton's Journal 4.00, and The Nursery, 4.75
Living Age 8.00, and The Nursery, 9.00
Phrenological Journal 3.00, and The Nursery, 4.00
The Science of Health 2.00, and The Nursery, 3.10
The Sanitarian 5.00, and The Nursery, 4.00
St. Nicholas $3.00, and The Nursery, $4.00
The Household 1.00, and The Nursery, 2.20
Mother's Journal 2.00, and The Nursery, 3.25
Demerest's Monthly 8.10, and The Nursery, 4.25
Little Corporal 1.50, and The Nursery, 2.70
Overland Monthly 4.00, and The Nursery, 4.75
Optic's Magazine 3.00, and The Nursery, 4.25
Wood's House'd Mag. 1.50, and The Nursery, 2.25
Godey's Lady's Book 3.00, and The Nursery, 4.00
Hearth and Home 3.00, and The Nursery, 4.00
Young People's Mag. 1.50, and The Nursery, 2.70
The Horticulturist 2.10, and The Nursery, 3.20
Ladies Floral Cabinet 1.30, and The Nursery, 2.60
N.B.--When any of these Magazines is desired in club with "The Nursery"
at the above rates, both Magazines must be subscribed for at the _same
time_; but they need not be to the same address. We furnish our own
Magazine, and agree to pay the subscription for the other. Beyond this
we take no responsibility. The publisher of each Magazine is responsible
for its prompt delivery; and complaints must be addressed accordingly.
* * * * *
NOTICE TO SUBSCRIBERS
The number of the Magazine with which your subscription _expires_ is
indicated by the number annexed to the address on the printed label.
When no such number appears, it will be understood that the subscription
ends with the current year. No notice of discontinuance need be given,
as the Magazine is never sent after the term of Subscription expires.
Subscribers will oblige us by sending their renewals promptly. State
always that your payment is for a _renewal_, when such is the fact. In
changing the direction, the _old_ as well as the _new_ address should be
given. The sending of "The Nursery" will be regarded as a sufficient
receipt.
Any one not receiving it will please notify us immediately.
ADDRESS, JOHN L. SHOREY, 36 Bromfieid St., Boston, Mass.
* * * * *
CHOICEST BOOKS FOR CHILDREN.
The Beautiful Book.
_This is a collection of the best poems that have appeared in "The
Nursery." It is a volume of 128 pages, richly bound in cloth, with one
or more Pictures on every page. It is specially attractive as a
Gift-Book for the holidays_.
Price ... 75 Cents.
* * * * *
The Easy Book.
_This is a Book of 128 pages, prepared expressly for children just
learning to read. It is in large Old English type, with a profusion of
pictures and delightful object-lessons, and is made so fascinating that
a child learns to read from it with little or no aid._
Elegantly bound in full cloth ... 75 Cents.
" " " half cloth ... 50 "
* * * * *
Bound Volumes of The Nursery.
_These now form a complete juvenile library. The Magazine was begun in
1867, and all volumes from that date can be supplied._
Half-Yearly volumes, elegantly bound in cloth, $1.00
Yearly volumes, " " " " 1.75
_The above books will be sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, by the
Publisher._
JOHN L. SHOREY, 36 Bromfield Street, Boston, Mass.
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Nursery, Volume 17, No. 100, April, 1875" ***
Copyright 2023 LibraryBlog. All rights reserved.