Various - The Nursery, No. 107, November, 1875, Vol. XVIII.
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Various >> The Nursery, No. 107, November, 1875, Vol. XVIII.
Two days were at an end, and still there was no news of Captain Bob. His
parents and friends were greatly distressed. But, on the morning of the
third day, there was a shout from some of the gentlemen on the piazza;
and, on hastening to find out what was the matter, whom should I see but
Captain Bob, borne on the shoulders of two young men, and waving his cap
over his head.
Bob's story was this: A mackerel-schooner was anchored off shore; and
Bob had persuaded the sailor, who had given him the toy-boat, to take
him on board. The sailor had done this, not suspecting what was to
happen. A school of mackerel had been seen; and, as the breeze was fair,
the skipper spread all sail, and was soon five miles off shore.
The mackerel were so plenty that the fishermen made the most of their
luck, and did not return to the shore near the hotel till the third day.
"Did you have a good time, captain?" I asked.
"A _good_ time!" exclaimed Captain Bob. "It was the jolliest time I ever
had. You should have seen me pull in the fish."
After this adventure, Captain Bob was more of a hero than ever among the
people of the hotel.
EMILY CARTER.
[Illustration]
"PAPA CAN'T FIND ME."
No little steps do I hear in the hall;
Only a sweet silver laugh, that is all.
No dimpled arms round my neck hold me tight;
I've but a glimpse of two eyes very bright.
Two little hands a wee face try to screen:
Baby is hiding, that's plain to be seen.
"Where is my precious I've missed so all day?"
"Papa can't find me!" the pretty lips say.
"Dear me! I wonder where baby can be!"
Then I go by, and pretend not to see.
"Not in the parlor, and not on the stairs?
Then I must peep under sofas and chairs."
The dear little rogue is now laughing outright,
Two little arms round my neck clasp me tight.
Home will indeed be sad, weary, and lone,
When papa can't find you, my darling, my own.
GEORGE COOPER.
THE SOLDIER-DOG.
I have been reading in "The Nursery" the story about Mellie Hoyt and his
dog Major. My papa often tells me about another good old dog, named
Major. He was a soldier-dog, that papa knew when he went to the war.
Major was a kind dog to all his friends; but he would bark at strangers,
and sometimes he would bite them. He once tried to bite a steam-engine
as it came whistling by; but the engine knocked him off the track, and
almost killed him. He had never seen a steam-engine before, and he knew
better than to attack one after that. But he was not afraid of any thing
else.
When the soldiers went out to battle, Major would go with them, and bark
and growl all the time. Once, in a battle way down in Louisiana, Major
began to bark and growl as usual, and to stand up on his hind-legs. Then
he ran around, saying, "_Ki-yi, ki-yi_." By and by he saw a cowardly
soldier, who was running away; and he seized that soldier by the leg,
and would not let him go for a long time. He wanted him to go back and
fight.
Soon after this, Major began to jump up in the air, trying to bite the
bullets that whistled over his head. When a bullet struck the ground, he
would run and try to dig it out with his paws. At last he placed himself
right in front of an advancing line of soldiers, as much as to say,
"Don't come any further!" He seemed to think that he could drive them
back all alone.
By and by a bullet hit Major as he was jumping about; and he dropped
down dead. The soldiers all felt sad, and some of them cried. They
missed him like one of their comrades, and they had many to mourn for in
that dreadful battle. I hope there never will be another war.
PINKY.
PORTLAND, ME.
[Illustration]
THE SURPRISE.
"Whose hands are over your eyes? Guess quick."
"Old Mother Hubbard's?"
"Wrong: guess again."
"The good fairy's, Teenty Tawnty?"
"There are no fairies in this part of the country, and you know it.
Guess again."
"Well, I guess it is the old woman that lived in a shoe."
"She is not in these parts. I will give you one more chance. Who is it?"
"I think it must be little Miss Muffit,--the one who was frightened by a
spider."
"Nonsense! One would think you had read nothing but 'Mother Goose's
Melodies.'"
"Can it be Tom, Tom, the piper's son?"
"No, I never stole a pig in my life. Now give the right name this time,
or prepare to have your ears pulled."
"Oh, that would never do! I think it must be my cousin, Jenny Mason, who
is hiding the daylight from me."
"Right! Right at last! One kiss, and you may go."
IDA FAY.
[Illustration]
LITTLE PEDRO.
Pedro is a little Italian boy, who lives in Chicago. When I first knew
him, he was roaming about from house to house, playing on the fiddle,
and singing.
Sometimes kind persons gave him money, and then he always looked happy.
But many times he got nothing for his music, and then he was very sad;
for he lived with a cruel master, who always beat him when he came home
at night without a good round sum.
One day last spring, he had worked very hard; but people were so busy
moving, or cleaning house, that, when night came, he had very little
money. He felt very tired: so he went home with what he had.
But his cruel master, without stopping to hear a word from the little
fellow, gave him a whipping, and sent him out again. He came to my gate,
long after I had gone to bed, and played and sang two or three songs;
but he did not sing very well, for he was too tired and sleepy.
Just across the street, in an unfinished building, the carpenters had
left a large pile of shavings. Pedro saw this by the moonlight, as he
went along; and he thought he would step in and lie down to rest. His
head had hardly touched the pillow of shavings before he was asleep.
He dreamed about his pleasant home far away in Italy. He thought he was
with his little sisters, and he saw his dear mother smile as she gave
him his supper; but, just as he was going to eat, some sudden noise
awoke him.
He was frightened to find it was daylight, and that the sun was high in
the sky. In the doorway stood a kind gentleman looking at him. Pedro
sprang up, and took his fiddle; but the gentleman stopped him as he was
going out, and asked if that pile of shavings was all the bed he had. He
spoke so kindly, that Pedro told him his story.
The gentleman felt so sorry for him, and was so pleased with his sweet,
sad face, that he took him to his own home, and gave him a nice warm
breakfast; and, being in want of an errand-boy, he concluded to let
Pedro have the place.
Pedro has lived happily in his new home ever since; and, though he still
likes to play on his fiddle, he has no wish to return to his old
wandering mode of life.
COUSIN EMILY.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE PARROT'S LAMENT.
Swinging in a gilded cage,
Petted like a baby's doll,
Thus I spend my dull old age,
And you call me "Poll."
But in youth I roved at will
Through the wild woods of Brazil.
When you ask me, "What's o'clock?"
Or repeat some foolish rhyme,
And I try your speech to mock,
I recall the time
When I raised my voice so shrill
In the wild woods of Brazil.
Sporting with my comrades there,
How I flew from bough to bough!
Then I was as free as air:
I'm a captive now.
Oh that I were roaming still
Through the wild woods of Brazil!
JANE OLIVER.
[Illustration]
WHAT THE DOVE LOST.
Uncle Tom was walking slowly down the street, one sunny day, when he saw
a boy put his hand into a paper bag, take out a lemon, and throw it at a
plump gray pigeon that was trying to pick up some crumbs which had been
thrown out.
Poor little pigeon! He had been fluttering, off and on, over the
crumbs,--now scared away by a fast trotting-horse, now flying to a
door-post to get rid of some rapid walker,--and had only just alighted
to pick up his breakfast, when he was struck right in the back by the
bullet-like lemon.
Uncle Tom ran as quickly as he could, and took the panting little thing
up in his hand very gently. Just then the horse-car came along; and
uncle jumped into it, saying to himself, "I'll take this pigeon out to
little Emily. How she will dance and skip when she sees it!"
The car went on and on, ever so far away from Boston, and by and by was
half-way across a bridge. The pigeon had lain nestled under Uncle Tom's
coat; and the warmth seemed to make it feel better. First it put one
round bright eye out, then the other, and took a peep at the people
sitting near it.
Then, I think, its back must have ceased aching; for it grew lively, and
stirred around. Uncle Tom felt it moving, and was afraid that it would
presently try to get away: so he held it as close as he could without
hurting it.
But just as he thought how safe he had it, and how tame it would be when
it had lived with its little mistress a while, it popped its head out
again.
It popped so far out this time, that there was nothing to take hold of
but its tail-feathers. Uncle Tom clutched those firmly; but, to his
great astonishment, the pigeon gave another spring, and pulled itself
away, leaving all its beautiful tail-feathers behind it.
Away it flew, down the car, over the heads of the people, out of the
door, past the head of the conductor (who did not know that he had such
a strange passenger), and out over the water, back to Boston.
Uncle Tom was left with only a handful of dark-gray feathers to take
home with him; and little Emily had no pet pigeon, after all.
AUNT EMMIE.
THE CHICKEN AND THE DOG.
Tantalus, as the old Greek fable tells us, was King of Lydia. Being
invited by Jupiter to his table, he heard secrets which he afterwards
divulged. To divulge a secret is to make it vulgar, or common, by
telling it.
Poor Tantalus was punished rather severely for his offence; but he had
sinned in betraying confidence. Sent to the lower world, he was placed
in the middle of a lake, the waters of which rolled away from him as
often as he tried to drink of them.
Over his head, moreover, hung branches of fruit, which drew away, in
like manner, from his grasp, whenever he put forth his hand to reach
them. And so, though all the time thirsty and hungry, he could not, in
the midst of plenty, satisfy his desires.
Therefore we call it to tantalize a person to offer him a thing he longs
for, and then to draw it away from him.
[Illustration]
In the picture, a little chicken is looking up at a spider which sits
over her in the midst of its web. She watches it, hoping that it will
come so near to her little bill, that she can peck at it, and swallow
it.
But the spider is on its guard. To and fro it swings, letting itself
down a little bit, but never so far as to be in any danger; and then,
just as the enemy prepares to snap at it, it climbs nimbly into its
secure network.
The second Tantalus of our picture, the little dog, has, also, small
prospects of reaching the object on which his heart is set. At some
distance from him on the ground lies a bone, which he longs to get; but
the chain which fastens him, prevents his going near enough to seize it.
Both the dog and the chicken are _tantalized_, you see.
Let us keep down our desires, try to reach only what is fairly ours, be
content with little, and never betray confidence. Then shall we avoid
the fate of Tantalus.
UNCLE CHARLES.
[Illustration: Musical Score]
GIRLS & BOYS
T. CRAMPTON
1. In all the land by field and town,
The boys and girls go up and down.
In all the land the girls and boys
Wherever they go they make a noise.
They play at cricket, tops and games,
With balls that carry various names;
They whirl the skipping rope, and drive
The hoop till it appears alive.
2. They thread the needle in the ring;
They play at tea and visiting;
Or woman poor from Sandyland,
whose talk is hard to understand.
Their lungs and limbs they freely use,
They never mope or have the blues;
And it is always half their joys
In all their play to make a noise.
3. They play at Hopscotch, marbles, dumps.
And Fly the garter; oh! what jumps!
From Tipcat quick away I fly
For fear they'll hit me in the eye.
In winter on the ice they go,
And keep the pot a-boiling so,
And tho' they shout and make a noise,
Somehow, _I like these girls and boys_.
[Illustration: COLGATE & CO. NEW YORK]
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~THE NURSERY.~
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