Title: The Nursery, June 1881, Vol. XXIX - A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers
Author: Various
Language: English
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transcribed by June Troyer.



THE

NURSERY

_A Monthly Magazine_

FOR YOUNGEST READERS.

VOLUME XXIX.--No. 6.

    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.


[Illustration: JOHN WILSON

& SON.

UNIVERSITY PRESS.]



[Illustration: Contents.]

IN PROSE.


                                                 PAGE
    The Careless Nurse                            161
    Master Baby                                   165
    Two Small Boys                                166
    A Saucy Visitor                               168
    How Georgie Fed his Fawn                      171
    Drawing-Lesson                                177
    A Picnic in a Strange Garden                  178
    Two Small Girls                               182
    The Careful Nurse                             183
    Ralph's Great-Grandmother and her History     185


IN VERSE.

                                                 PAGE
    Feeding the Fowls                             163
    A Polite Dandelion                            164
    Kitty didn't mean to                          167
    The Rose                                      173
    Margie's Trial                                180
    Why the Chick came out                        184
    June                                          188

[Illustration]



[Illustration: VOL. XXIX.--NO. 6.]



THE CARELESS NURSE.


THE rights of man do not give me much concern; neither do I trouble
myself much about the rights of woman. My mission is to look after the
rights of children. I never forget this wherever I may be.

Some people may think that the rights of children are safe enough in the
care of the fathers and mothers.

Are they indeed! How many children are sent out, day after day, in
charge of nurses? Who protects the children against careless and cruel
nurses? Anxious mother, answer me that.

Many cases of gross neglect have come under my eye. I will mention one
case that took place last summer at the seaside.

I was out in my yacht at the time. Scanning the shore with my spy-glass,
this is what I saw:--

A good-looking young woman was pushing a baby-carriage before her. In
the carriage was a little child. The young woman seemed to be singing,
and all went well until a young man came up and walked by her side.

From his dress I should say that he was a sailor. Perhaps he had just
landed from a man-of-war. His trousers had the man-of-war cut.

The young man and the young woman talked and laughed together as they
went along. They seemed to be very good friends. But what became of the
infant in the carriage?

Poor child! She fell off the seat. Her head hung over the side of the
carriage, just in front of the wheel, and there she lay shrieking for
help.

I could not hear her shrieks, for I was a mile away; but the sight was
enough for me. I seized my trumpet. "Shipmate, ahoy!" I shouted to the
sailor-chap.

No answer. It was plain that the sailor-chap did not care in the
slightest degree for that poor suffering child. Nobody offered to help
her.

"Steer for the shore!" I said to my helmsman. "Bear down to the rescue!"
We landed as soon as we could, but not without some delay, and when we
reached the place it was too late. Nurse, carriage, sailor-chap, and
all were gone.

What was the fate of that poor infant is a mystery to me to this day.
But I tell the story as a warning to all mothers against trusting their
children to a careless nurse.

                                                       JACK TAR.



[Illustration]



FEEDING THE FOWLS.

    PECKING away, and looking so knowing,
    Feathers and tails in the breezes blowing,
    "Cluck, cluck, cluck!" come the hens to be fed,
    And Edith is scattering crumbs of bread.

    The peacock comes also, strutting so grandly,
    His long tail behind him trailing so blandly,
    Doesn't he look as proud as a king,
    With his crown, and his tail, and his brilliant wing!

                                             S. T. U.



[Illustration]

A POLITE DANDELION.

By GEORGE COOPER.


    "OH, what shall I do, Dandelion?
     My white satin gown will be spoiled:
         The rain has begun;
         I've nowhere to run;
     And my bonnet and all will be soiled."

    "Don't be in a flutter, Miss Miller,
     And where are you going so fast?
         My sunshade of gold
         Above you I'll hold
     Till this very hard shower has passed."



[Illustration]

MASTER BABY.


MASTER BABY has been playing in the park all the morning. He has been
chasing a butterfly. He did not catch the butterfly. But he has come
home with two rosy cheeks and a good appetite.

Now he must have his dinner. Tie his bib around his neck. Seat him at
the table. Give him some soup. Now cut him up some meat and potato, and
let him feed himself.

He is a little awkward; but a hungry boy will soon learn how to handle a
fork. Let him alone for that. It will not take long to teach him how to
use a knife too.

Boys need a good deal of food to make them strong and hearty. Give them
plenty of fresh air. Let the sun shine on them. Then they will be sure
to eat with a relish.

                                                        J. K. L.



TWO SMALL BOYS.


THIS is our Sam. He is the boy who goes to sea in a bowl. He throws out
a line, and catches a fish. What does the fish look like? Where would
Sam be if the bowl should tip over? Would he get wet?

[Illustration]

This is Billy with his whip. He thinks he would like to drive a coach.
But where will he get his team? He will find it, I dare say, without
going out of the room.

[Illustration]

An arm-chair will do for a coach, and a pair of boots will make a fine
span of horses.

                                                       M. N. O.



[Illustration]

KITTY DIDN'T MEAN TO.


    JOANNA scolds my kitty every day:
        I'm filled with grief.
    Just now to Mary Ann I heard her say,
        "That cat's a thief!"
    Poor kit! you did not wish for milk to-day,
        But wanted meat.
    You took a little bit from off the tray,
        And, with your feet,
    A glass of water, standing in the way,
        You tumbled down;
    And just for this you had to bear, all day,
        Joanna's frown.
    I think that Miss Joanna must be seen to;
    For, kitty, I am sure you didn't mean to.

                            AMANDA SHAW ELSEFFER.



A SAUCY VISITOR.


ONCE upon a time a mother-sparrow and her three children lived in a
great big maple-tree, which stood before a great big house, which had a
broad piazza in front of it. The mother-bird often used to talk to her
children about the people who lived in the house, and their pets.

"See, Polly Dolly Adeline," she said to her oldest child one day, "see
those lazy yellow canaries down there on the piazza. They have every
thing they want. See how they are coddled while we are left to shift for
ourselves."

"Boo-hoo!" said Polly Dolly. "I don't think it is a bit fair."

"I don't either," said the youngest of all. He was a pert little fellow.
His name was Flop. He was so called, because, when he first began to
fly, he would flop over on one side.

But he could fly well enough now, and so he said boldly, "I mean to go
down to one of those cages, and eat some of that nice seed myself. I'll
let young Canary know that I am as good as he."

At these words Mrs. Sparrow was so frightened that she fell off the
branch; but she soon flew back, and said, "Flop, you naughty boy, don't
you go! you may get killed."

"Cats, you know, Flop!" said Polly Dolly Adeline. "Cats with green
eyes!"

"Pooh!" said Flop. "Who cares? I'm not afraid."

[Illustration]

Flop flew gaily down to the piazza railing. Here he stopped, and looked
around; while his mother and sisters watched him in fear and trembling.
Nobody was on the piazza: so Flop flew straight to one of the cages.

"How do you do, my young friend?" he said, saucily helping himself to
the seed that had been scattered. "I've come to take dinner with you."

Mr. Canary did not like this at all. "You've not been invited," he
squeaked out, ruffling up his feathers, and flying at Flop with all his
might. But the bars were between them; and Flop went on eating his
dinner as calmly as possible.

Then the canary became so angry that he danced back and forth on his
perch, and screamed. Flop made another very polite bow. "Oh, how good
that hemp-seed tastes!" said he. "The rape-seed, too, is very
nice,--nice as the fattest canker-worm I ever ate."

So he went on eating, looking up now and then to wink at his angry host.
When he had eaten all he could find, he made his best bow and said
saucily, "Thank you, sir, thank you. Don't urge me to stay longer now.
I'll come again some other day," and he flew back to his anxious mother
and sisters.

                                                       B. W.

[Illustration]



[Illustration]

HOW GEORGIE FED HIS FAWN.


GEORGIE stood at the kitchen-door with a piece of bread in his hand to
feed his pet fawn. There was the fawn chained to a post in the
grass-plat. Between them was a long gravel walk. How was Georgie to get
the bread to the fawn?

Easily enough, one would think,--by carrying it straight to the fawn.
But Georgie didn't find this such an easy thing to do. He met with
difficulties.

In the first place there was Rover, the big brown pup. Georgie had not
taken three steps, when Rover spied the bread, and, thinking it was for
him, began jumping after it. Georgie thought he would have to run back
to the house; but, seeing a stick on the ground, he picked it up, and
shook it at Rover. Rover was afraid of the stick, and ran meekly away.

Nothing else happened to trouble Georgie until he had gone halfway up
the walk. Then he met another difficulty. Two big turkey-gobblers,
looking very red about the head, and with feathers all ruffled up,
rushed towards him for the bread, crying, "Gobble, gobble!" in a
frightful manner.

Georgie hesitated. Dare he go past them? "Gobble, gobble!" screeched the
turkeys. Down went the bread on the ground, and back to the house, as
fast as his legs could carry him, ran Georgie.

His mother saw two big tears in the little fellow's eyes and felt sorry
for him. She cut another piece of bread, turned his apron up over it so
the turkeys could not see it, and told him to run bravely past them. He
hoped they were still eating the other piece, and would not notice him;
but they had swallowed every crumb and ran toward him for more.

He screwed up his courage, and tried to run by them. Alas! he stumbled
and fell. Away rolled the bread, and, before he could get it again, the
gobblers had it and were quarrelling noisily, each trying to pull it
away from the other one.

[Illustration]

This second loss was more than little Georgie could bear. He went crying
into the house. Then his sister Jennie said she would go with him, and
keep off the turkeys. She took some bread in one hand, and held
Georgie's hand with the other, and this time the turkeys were passed
safely.

Georgie fed the pretty fawn, who took the bread from his hand, and
capered about with delight, for he likes to have Georgie pet him, and
pines for his company. Georgie is going to ask the gardener to buy two
chains and fasten the two old gobblers in some other part of the yard.
Then he can visit the fawn often.

                                                       AUNT SADIE.



[Illustration]

THE ROSE.


ANNIE.

    THE sweetest and the brightest days
      Of all the happy year!
    The green leaves dance, the gay birds sing,
      The merry June is here!
    We will of roses weave her crown,
      The fairest that unclose;
    Each one of different form and hue,
      Yet each a perfect rose.


BESSIE.

(_With a red rose._)

    And this one will outshine them all;
      Amid the garden's rare
    And splendid flowers, it raised its head,
      The brightest blossom there.
    All decked with dew like gems, its robe
      Of royal crimson glows--
    The matchless queen of summer-time,
      The beautiful red rose!

[Illustration]


CHARLOTTE.

(_With a white rose._)

    But this to me is lovelier far,
      So pure and sweet it seems;
    Among the green leaves on the bough
      Like fallen snow it gleams.
    Its breath gives perfume to the wind,
      As over it it blows;
    'Tis stainless as an angel's wings,
      The fragrant, fair white rose.


DELIA.

(_With a yellow rose._)

    And this, to greet the early morn,
      In yellow mantle shone,
    Bright as is China's emperor
      Upon his dazzling throne.
    It opens wide its golden leaves,
      Its gleaming heart it shows,--
    A sunshine-loving, cheery thing,
      The winsome yellow rose!


EVA.

(_With a brier rose._)

    Among the brambles and the brake
      Beside the dusty way;
    This dainty little blossom sheds
      Its sweetness all the day.
    It makes the rough hill pastures fair;
      Amid the rocks it grows;
    It clambers o'er the gray stone wall,--
      The simple brier rose!

[Illustration]


FRANCES.

(_With a blush rose._)

    This blushes like a morning cloud.


GERTRUDE.

(_With a moss rose._)

    And this is veiled in moss.


HELENA.

(_With a cluster of climbing roses._)

    This, with the honeysuckle-vines,
      My lattice twines across.


ANNIE.

(_To whom all the roses are given._)

    And which one is the fairest flower
      I'm sure cannot be told:
    We'll twine them all in one long wreath,
      The white and red and gold.

                             MARIAN DOUGLAS.

[Illustration]



[Illustration: DRAWING-LESSON.

VOL. XXIX.--NO. 6.]



A PICNIC IN A STRANGE GARDEN.


IF I should ask you children to tell me what a garden is, I think you
would all say, "A place where trees, flowers, and grass grow." That
would be a good answer.

But the garden where this picnic took place is of a very different kind.
Instead of bright leaves and flowers, there are hundreds of rocks of
many sizes and shapes. Its name is the "Garden of the Gods," and it lies
at the foot of the Rocky Mountains, in Colorado.

The color of most of the rocks is red; but some are silvery gray, and
some nearly white. Seen together they make a fine contrast. Many have
strange shapes, and look like nuns and priests, animals, birds, and
fishes turned into stone.

On one high rock may be seen the image of a man and a bear; on another,
the outline of a lion's head, and part of its body, so perfect in shape,
that it seems as though some one must have drawn it.

Some of the rocks are very high. One reaches up three hundred and thirty
feet. Near the top of it is a hole, which looks from the ground to be
about the size of a dinner-plate, but is really large enough for a horse
and buggy to pass through.

A few trees manage to live high up on the rocks, and the prickly cactus
grows in the soil around them.

To this garden went, one bright summer day, a wagon-load of people--six
happy little girls and boys, with their mothers and fathers--on a
picnic.

The children were dressed in big shade hats, and clothes that they might
tear and tumble all they wished. Such fun as they had! The older ones
climbed the smaller rocks, and made speeches to the little ones on the
ground below. Then they all played "hide-and-seek," and never were
there such grand hiding-places.

At noon they had lunch. Their table was a large flat rock. Mountain air
and play give good appetites. How they did enjoy eating the nice things,
chatting and laughing all the while!

[Illustration]

After lunch away they ran in search of "specimens," by which they meant
pretty stones. They chipped pieces off the rocks with hammers, playing
they were miners finding gold and silver. They filled their baskets, and
pretended to have made great fortunes.

They kept up the sport until five o'clock, when their mammas said it was
time to start for home, and counted the children to see if all were
there. Only five could be found. There should have been six. Who was
missing?

It was four-year-old Willie. "Willie, Willie!" shouted every one, and
from the great red rock came a faint reply. Then began "hide-and-seek"
in earnest, and soon they spied the little fellow sitting on the side of
the rock full five yards up.

"Why, Willie!" called his mamma. "What are you doing up there?"

"Going to climb through the little hole, mamma; but I'm tired."

His uncle climbed after him, and soon brought him down.

Six tired little children went early to bed that night, and dreamed of
stony men and women, lions and bears.

                                                       AUNT SADIE.



MARGIE'S TRIAL.


    MY beautiful Evelina,
      Come listen to me, my dear;
    I want to tell you a secret
      That nobody else must hear:
    We're going away to the country,--
      Mamma and baby and I,
    And grandmamma doesn't like dollies,
      Now please, my darling, don't cry.

    Oh, don't you remember last winter
      She called you an image, my pet!
    Just think, like those ugly old idols:
      I'm sure I shall never forget.
    She's the loveliest grandma, my precious;
      But some things are not to be borne:
    I'm sure that my heart would be broken
      If she should treat you with scorn.

[Illustration]

    I'll put on your very best bonnet,
      Your pretty pink shoes on your feet;
    And you shall sit up by the window,
      And look at the folks in the street.
    Oh, dear! but I never can leave you
      A whole summer long on the shelf;
    If you are an "image," my baby,
      I'll just be a heathen myself.

                     EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER.



TWO SMALL GIRLS.


ANN is not yet five years old. But she knows how to read, and is very
fond of her book. She does not care to sit down, but reads her book as
she walks. This is not a good plan. It hurts the eyes.

[Illustration]

Grace, who is nine years old, often has a book in her hand. But she does
not read and walk at the same time. She sits down on the floor. It would
be quite as well for her to take a chair and sit up straight.

[Illustration]

                                                       P. Q. R.



[Illustration]

THE CAREFUL NURSE.


THIS is little Grace taking Dolly out for an airing. It is a bright June
day. The birds are singing. The flowers are in bloom. It is so warm that
Grace goes without a hat.

Dolly is snugly seated in her carriage; and Snip the dog, who barks, but
never bites, has a place in it too. He is one of the breed known as the
_toy_ dog. He does not bark unless you squeeze him. He is never cross.

Grace rolls them down the broad path through the garden. She gives Dolly
a nice ride, and then takes her home, and puts her to sleep in her
little bed. She never lets Dolly miss her nap. Grace is a careful nurse.

                                                       JANE OLIVER.



WHY THE CHICK CAME OUT.


    BENNY BRIGHT-EYES, climbing over
    Heaps of crisp and fragrant clover,
    Spies the dearest, cutest thing,
    Hiding under Biddy's wing.

    What sees Benny next? A wonder!
    Rudely pushed quite out from under
    Biddy's breast, an egg comes sliding,
    In its shell a chicken hiding.

    "Ah!" says Benny as he gazes,
    And his merry blue eyes raises,
    "I know why his house he's spoiled:
    He's afraid of being boiled."

                         M. J. TAYLOR.



[Illustration]

RALPH'S GREAT-GRANDMOTHER.


MISS EASTMAN, the pretty drawing-teacher at the academy, boards in our
family. Some time ago she chanced to take up an old, faded
daguerrotype-likeness of my grandmother. She proposed copying it; and a
lovely picture in crayon, of Ralph's great-grandmother, is the result.

My grandmother was ninety years old when the likeness was taken; yet she
appears in it erect and vigorous, sitting in her high-backed chair, with
her knitting-work in her hand. She wears a snug cap, and a plain Quaker
kerchief folded smoothly over her black silk dress.

Naturally we have talked much about her; and my boys, Ralph and Fred,
who have a happy faculty for drawing me out, have well-nigh exhausted
all my memories of their great-grandmother.

"Can't you think of something else about her?" Fred pleaded, a few
nights ago when, tired of his books and games, he had seated himself
comfortably before the fire.

"Yes," I replied, "I have been thinking of another story as I sit here
knitting. It is about going to Southampton on a canal-boat."

"Oh, that's splendid, I know!" said both boys in a breath. "Hurry up,
and count your stitches quick, mamma."

I paused a moment to knit to the seam-needle, and then began:--

      "My father and mother lived in Westfield, on the banks
      of the New-Haven and Northampton Canal. My grandmother
      lived in Southampton, the town next north of ours.
      She, too, lived near the canal. We children used to
      think that the trip we often took from our house to
      hers was like a journey through fairy-land.

      "The first time I ever went out from under my mother's
      wing was with my grandmother, who took me from home
      with her one bright June day. I was a little sober on
      parting with my mother; but the negro cook, on board
      the boat a fat, jolly-looking woman, took me under her
      special care.

      "I went down in her cabin, and she gave me cookies and
      great puffy doughnuts, and a pink stick of candy, and
      I watched her while she cleaned the lamps."

"Is that all?" said Ralph, as I paused a moment to secure a dropped
stitch in the red stocking.

"Oh, no indeed!" I say as I go on,--

      "By and by my grandmother's family were all scattered.
      My grandfather died, and left her sad and lonely; but
      she still lived in the old homestead.

      "I can see her room now. There were four windows in
      it,--two looking east, towards Mounts Tom and Holyoke,
      and two south, over a lovely old-fashioned garden
      filled with tulips, hollyhocks, southernwood, thyme,
      cinnamon-roses, spice-pinks, lavender, white-lilies,
      and violets.

      "There was an open Franklin stove in the room; and a
      little, chubby black teapot always stood on its top.
      One sunny south window was filled with flowers.
      Grandmother always carried a bunch of flowers to
      church with her, and she had a black velvet bag, in
      which she carried sugar-plums, to give to us drowsy
      children on Sunday afternoon, when the minister
      preached one of his long sermons."

[Illustration]

"Just one story more," said Ralph, as I again paused to observe what
progress I was making in my knitting.

"Will you promise not to ask for another one to-night?"

"We promise certain sure," said Fred. "Only tell a long one for the
last."

"Very well," said I.

      "Once my grandmother made a party for a circle of
      cousins. We counted nine cousins in all when we took
      our seats at the supper-table."

"What did you have for supper?" observed Fred.

      "We had nice seed-cookies cut into hearts, diamonds,
      leaves, and rounds; frosted cup-cakes powdered with
      pink sugar sand; little sweet biscuits, currant-tarts,
      dried beef, plum preserves, honey in a great glass
      dish, and jelly from a blue mug. We poured milk from a
      great green pitcher into pink china cups, and used
      grandma's tiny silver tea-spoons for our preserves."

"Wasn't that splendid!" said Ralph. "I wish some one would invite me to
such a supper."

      "In the evening we drew up before the open fire, and
      each had a great plateful of nuts, raisins, figs, and
      candy. Then grandma told us all about when she was a
      little girl,--what funny dresses she wore, what
      strange houses people lived in, and how they were
      furnished; and she remembered a little about the
      Revolutionary war, and the dark day, and Gen.
      Washington, and the Indians.

      "When grandma grew very old, she came to live with my
      mother. My uncle in Florida used to send her oranges
      and other nice fruit; and my pretty aunt Eleanor in
      New York gave her all her caps and fine muslin
      neckerchiefs. All her sons and daughters were very
      thoughtful for her happiness.

      "By and by she fell asleep, and there was a funeral at
      our house one lovely day in early autumn. It did not
      seem sad or gloomy. We returned from the quiet country
      graveyard in the twilight of the beautiful day, and
      gathered in grandma's pleasant room, and talked with
      tears and smiles of her long and useful life."

"What a good grandmother!" said Ralph, almost tearfully. "I wish I could
have seen her just once."

We have had the picture framed, and it hangs in my boys' room now; and
often in the early morning, as I linger on the stairs, I hear them tell
in a very familiar way all they have learned of Ralph's
great-grandmother.

                                               SARAH THAXTER THAYER.



[Illustration]

JUNE.


      MY sister May
      Has gone away
    With April and his showers.
      I come apace
      To take her place.
    Accept my gift of flowers!

[Illustration]

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Notes: Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

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

Additionally, only the January 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.





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