## The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Nursery, November 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 5

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Title: The Nursery, November 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 5

Author: Various

Release date: March 29, 2008 [eBook #24942]
Most recently updated: January 3, 2021

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/24942

Credits: Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, NOVEMBER 1873, VOL. XIV. NO. 5 ***

### THE

# NURSERY

## A Monthly Magazine

## For Youngest Readers.

VOLUME XIV.—No. 5
BOSTON:
JOHN L. SHOREY, No. 36, BROMFIELD STREET.
1873.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by
JOHN L. SHOREY,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
Boston:
Stereotyped and Printed by Rand, Avery, & Co.

IN PROSE.
| PAGE.
The Aunt and the Niece | 129
Dreadfully cheated | 132
A Bad Blow | 135
Paul | 137
Little Piggy | 140
Camping Out | 141
A Field-Day with the Geese | 144
Learn to think | 147
Grandpa and the Mouse | 151
The Speckled Hen | 154
Story of a Daisy | 156
IN VERSE.
| PAGE.
Summer's over | 134
The Anvil Chorus | 136
The Cat and the Book | 139
What Willy did | 146
The Brothers that did not quarrel | 150
Home from the Woods | 153
Winifred Waters (with music) | 160

[129]

THE AUNT AND THE NIECE.

[130]

## THE AUNT AND THE NIECE.

UNT RUTH was only nine years old, while her niece Mary was nineteen. But Ruth, being an aunt, felt she must keep up the dignity of one; and so she used to treat Mary as if Mary were a little girl.

They had not seen each other for nearly a year; and, when they met, Mary, who was fond of mischief, acted as if she were really younger than Ruth, though she well knew she was nine years older.

"Aunt Ruth," said Mary, "have you any objection to my going out in the grove to swing?"

"None at all, my dear," said Ruth; "but I will go with you, lest you should get hurt."

"Thank you, aunty," replied Mary. "Now let us see who can run the faster."

Mary started off at a run towards the swing; but Ruth called her back, and said, "Stop, my dear, you will wet those nice new shoes in the damp grass; and then your mother will blame me for not taking better care of you. We will go by the gravel road to the grove."

"Yes, ma'am," answered Mary, turning her head to hide her smiles; and then, seeing a flower, Mary cried, "Oh! what a beautiful flower! Tell me what it is, aunty. I think I never saw one like it before. What a heavenly blue! And how nicely the edges are fringed!"

"Yes, my dear: that is a fringed gentian," said Ruth. "It is one of the latest of our wild autumn flowers; and I am not surprised that you admire it."

"It is indeed lovely," exclaimed Mary. "You must teach me all about these wild flowers, aunty; for we city girls have [131]few opportunities of seeing them."

"Yes, my dear niece, I will teach you," returned Ruth. "I want you to learn a lesson of some kind every day you are with us."

Mary burst out into a laugh that she could not control.

"Why, what are you laughing at, my dear?" asked Aunt Ruth.

But Mary, to escape replying to the question, ran and took hold of the swing. "Now for it, aunty!" said she.

Mary sat down in the swing, and Ruth pushed her from behind; and, after she had swung enough, Ruth took her to the barn. But here, I regret to say, the sight of a pile of hay on the barn-floor was too much for Niece Mary. She seemed to lose all her reverence at once.

Seizing Aunt Ruth, she threw her on the hay, and covered her up with it, crying out, "You precious little aunty, I must have a frolic, or I shall die. So forget that you are an aunt, and try to remember that you are nothing, after all, but a darling little girl."

Ruth, though at first surprised, was too sensible a girl to be offended. Papa came in; and, seeing aunt and niece on the hay, he covered them both up with it, till they begged to be let out, and promised to be good.

He was just from the garden, and had thrown down his hoe, rake, and watering-pot, and taken off his straw-hat. But the hat suddenly disappeared, and papa wondered where it was. Niece Mary had slipped it under the hay.

Emily Carter.

[132]

## DREADFULLY CHEATED.

"Uncle," said George, "what makes you call that great clumsy dog 'Watch'? A watch goes 'tick, tick,' as busy as can be all the time; and this dog is a lazy old fellow."

"I know that," said Uncle Henry; "but he is called Watch, because he acts the part of a watchman, or guard, to keep off thieves and stragglers.

"Don't you know how he barks when any one comes here whom he does not know? He will not let a stranger come near the house after dark, without giving notice. I do not suppose it would be possible for any of us to come into the house without his knowing it."

"I mean to try," said George, "and see if I cannot cheat you, old fellow." And Watch looked up in his face with a very knowing wink, which seemed to say, "Don't try to be too smart, or you may get into trouble."

Now, for all George called Watch "clumsy" and "lazy,"[133] he was very fond of him; and many a nice frolic they had together.

That very afternoon, while they were enjoying a grand tumble on the grass, George's mother called him into the house to do an errand for her.

George had quite a long walk to take; and, when he got back, it was quite dark. Just as he reached the garden-gate, he remembered what his uncle had said that morning about Watch.

"Now," said he to himself, "I'll just see if I cannot get into the house without your knowing it, Master Watch; and, if I cannot, you are smarter than I think."

So George took off his shoes, and went stealing along on the soft grass, looking like a little thief, until he came to the broad gravel-walk, which he must cross to get round to the back of the house.

He stopped for a minute, while he looked about for Watch, and soon spied him lying at the front-door, with his black nose resting upon his great white paws; and he seemed to be fast asleep.

Then George very cautiously stepped upon the gravel-walk, first with one foot, and then with the other. As he did so, Watch pricked up both ears; but it was so dark, that George did not see them.

So, thinking that the old dog had not moved, he went on very quickly, and, as he thought, very quietly, when all at once, just as he was beginning to chuckle at the success of his trick, he heard a gruff "Bow-wow," and found himself flat upon the ground, with the dog upon his back, and two rows of sharp white teeth very near his throat.

Although George was hurt by the fall, and was a good deal frightened, he had his wits about him, and said, "Watch, Watch, don't you know me, old fellow?"[134]

I wish you could have seen Watch then, when he found that he had mistaken his little friend for a thief. He jumped up and down, and cried and whined as if he had been whipped, and was so mortified, and ashamed of his mistake, that it was a long time before George could persuade him to go into the house.

At last they both went in, and George told his story; and when the laughing was over, and old Watch had been patted and comforted by every one, Uncle Henry said, "Well, George, we shall have to say that you were both dreadfully cheated."

Aunt Tutie.

## SUMMER'S OVER.

Summer's over, summer's over!
See, the leaves are falling fast;
Flowers are dying, flowers are dying,
All their beauty's gone at last.
Now the thrush no longer cheers us;
Warbling birds forget to sing;
And the bees have ceased to wander,
Sipping sweets on airy wing.
Winter's coming, winter's coming!
Now his hoary head draws near;
Winds are blowing, winds are blowing;
All around looks cold and drear.
Hope of spring must now support us;
Winter's reign will pass away;
Flowers will bloom, and birds will warble,
Making glad the livelong day.
T. C.

[135]

## A BAD BLOW.

Little David came running home from school one winter afternoon. As he passed through the yard, he saw the door of the cellar-kitchen standing open, and heard some one down in the cellar, pounding, thump, thump, thump.

Little David ran down the steps to see who it was.

He saw a great blazing fire in the wide fireplace, and three big pots hanging on the crane over it; and his mamma, Leah, Jane, and Aunt Jinny, making sausages; and John Bigbee, the colored boy, with a wooden mortar between his knees, and an iron-pestle in his hand, pounding, thump, thump, thump, in the mortar.

Little David ran to John, and asked, "What's in there?" but did not wait for an answer. He drew in his breath as hard as he could, and blew into the mortar with all his might.[136]

A cloud of fine black pepper flew up into his mouth, nose, and eyes. How he did sneeze and strangle and cry!

Leah ran for a basin of cold water. His mamma got a soft linen cloth, and washed away all the pepper and most of the pain.

When he stopped crying, she said, "Little David, don't meddle."

D. D. H.

## THE ANVIL CHORUS.

Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
That is the tune at morning's blink;
And we hammer away till the busy day,
Weary like us, to rest doth sink.
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
From useful labor we will not shrink;
But our fires we'll blow till the forges glow
With a lustre that makes our eyelids wink.
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
A chain we'll forge with many a link:
We'll pound each form while the iron is warm,
With blows as rapid as one may think.
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
Our faces may be as black as ink;
But our hearts are as true as man ever knew:
Kindly on all we look and think.
Clink, clink, clinkerty clink!
Oxford's Junior Speaker.

[137]

## PAUL.

"Four years is very old: I am almost a man," said wee Paul. "Now I can wear papa's coat and hat, and use his gold-topped cane."

He put on the coat. It took some time.

"If the end was cut off, and the thickening taken out, it would be a nice fit. The hat is too tall for a man of my size; but it keeps all my head dry. I shall save an umbrella."

He would also save his eyes; for they were not needed in the top of the hat, and he could feel his way with his feet. He pitied the horses who wore blinders, and wondered how they could go so fast. He tried to step off boldly, but fell over the cane, and smashed the hat. Jane had to come and hunt for him under the coat.

"Don't cry, child," said Jane, shaking the dust from him. "Come now, and have a ride on the rocking-horse."[138]

"He's too slow for me," cried Paul loudly; "and a man of my age won't be shooken, Jane!"

Paul went out and sat beside Fido, on the basement-steps. He made his mouth into a funny round O, and grew purple in the face, trying to whistle Yankee Doodle.

"Don't go off the bricks, child," said Jane, opening a window.

"I'll take care of myself," said Paul. Then he told Fido that Jane had put it into his head to go off the bricks, and that it would be her fault if he did.

Fido began to bark and jump to coax his young master away. He had such fine times when Jane took them out to walk, that he wanted to go again. Paul knew his mamma had forbidden his leaving the brick walk in front of their home; but he longed to go. He put one foot off the bricks, then the other, and away he ran, Fido barking beside him.

Paul ran across two streets, and reached the Public Garden quite out of breath. He said it was fine fun; but he really was not so happy as he was when sitting on his mother's steps. He walked slowly to the pond. He thought he would catch some fish, and give them to Jane, and perhaps she would not tell his mother.

"Here, Fido, go catch fish!" he cried, pointing to the water.

Fido jumped in, and chased a chip with all his might. Paul scolded him well for not catching a fish. The little boy was cross, because he knew he was doing wrong; and when Fido got the chip at last, and laid it at Paul's feet, the child drove him into the water again.

Fido was a small dog, and grew tired very soon. His paws moved slowly, and he had hard work to keep his tiny nose out of the water. He cried for help.

"Poor dog, he will drown!" said a lady upon the bridge.[139]

Paul had been so cross that he forgot dear little Fido could be in danger. He began to cry aloud, and rushed to the edge of the pond to save his pet.

"Dear Fido, don't die!" sobbed Paul, stretching out his hands; but he lost his balance, and fell into the water.

Paul and Fido might both have been drowned if the people on the bridge had not run to save them. The street and number of Paul's house were printed on Fido's collar: so they carried the two there. Paul's mother cried when she saw the sad plight her little boy was in; and he was quite sick for a few days.

"We'd better mind mother, and let Jane go with us always, if she is an old fuss!" said Paul to Fido, the first time they were alone together. And Fido gave a deep sigh that meant yes.

Helen C. Pearson.
The cat and the book

## THE CAT AND THE BOOK.

Oh, dear me! what a deal of knowledge
It must take to read books, and fit for college!
But, if cats are not able to read a single letter,
They can catch mice, and climb trees; and is not that better?
Now, if these little rhymes are not wholly to your taste,
Bear in mind they are supposed to be by a cat, and written in haste.

[140]

## LITTLE PIGGY.

One day my brother Richard brought a little pig in-doors from the farm-yard. "Squeak, squeak!" cried the little thing as it nestled in Dick's arms.

As soon as we all had looked at it, my mother wished Dick to take it back to the sow. "No," said Dick: "she has too many piggies to bring up. I think we must kill this one." We all begged him not to kill it; and after some talk it was settled that I should have it, and try to bring it up.

So I took piggy under my charge. I named him "Dob." I fed him on skim-milk with a wooden spoon; and he soon looked for his meal as regularly as I looked for my breakfast. I made him a bed in a basket with some hay and a bit of flannel; but he soon outgrew the basket, and we then made him a bed under the kitchen-stairs.

When he grew big enough, he was sent into the farm-yard to get his living among the other pigs; but he would always run after me, and follow me into the house like a dog. I had only to call out, "Dob, Dob!" at the gate, and Dob would be sure to come.

One day he followed me in-doors with a bit of hay in his mouth. He ran down stairs, and left this bit of hay where he used to sleep, under the kitchen-stairs. He then ran off, and soon returned with some more hay in his mouth, and put it in the same place. "Well, I declare!" said cook, "this pig has as much sense as a Christian. Now he has made his bed, I wonder whether he'll come and sleep in it?"

In the evening, when we were at tea, Dob came to the kitchen-door, crying, "Ugh, ugh!" and, when they let him in, he trotted off to his bed. We all thought this very clever on the part of Dob; and cook said, "He was the knowingest little piggy she ever seed!"

T. C.

[141]

## CAMPING OUT.

Albert lives in the Far West. He is only seven years old. He has no brothers or sisters to play with him, so he has to amuse himself. He makes railroads and bridges and houses with bits of rock. He has a toy shovel and a pickaxe and a little axe that will cut. He is very happy playing with them for hours.

Sometimes he gets tired of his playthings, and says, "Mamma, what shall I do now?" Then his mamma tells him that he may read his lesson. If he has been a good boy, she reads some of the stories in "The Nursery" to him, which pleases him very much.

One day last autumn, his papa and mamma went over on the Neosho River, in the Indian Territory (you must look[142] on the map and see where that is), to gather some hickory-nuts and walnuts. Of course they took Albert with them.

It was a bright sunny morning when they started off across the prairie. They saw a great many prairie-chickens, and two big gray wolves, as they went along. Albert was in great glee; but it was a long ride, and the little boy was very glad when they came in sight of the sparkling waters of the Neosho, just as the sun was setting.

Papa had just time to pitch a tent and build a big fire before it was quite dark. Then they all sat down by the fire, and ate their supper. Then mamma made up a nice bed with blankets and shawls, and put Albert into it. They were all glad to go to bed early.

The wolves barked at them several times during the night, but were too much afraid of the fire to venture very near. Albert slept as sweetly as if he had been in his own little bed at home, instead of being out under the starry sky, far away from a house. When he opened his eyes next morning, it was yet quite dusk; but papa was getting ready to go to a pond to shoot some ducks for breakfast. Albert wished to go too; and papa kindly consented. When they came to the pond, papa told Albert to sit down on a log a little way off, so that he would not scare the ducks, and wait until he called him.

Albert promised to do so, and waited for a while; but it seemed to him a very long time, and he began to grow tired and hungry. He called several times; but no one answered, as papa did not wish to scare the ducks. Then he thought he would go back to mamma at the camp.

He walked on bravely at first; but by and by, as he saw[143] no sign of the camp, and the trees seemed to look all alike, he began to be afraid. He feared lest he might see a wolf or other wild animal; and then he began to cry, and to call loudly. Some Indians across the river called to him, and asked him what was the matter.

Albert was not afraid of them; but he did not stop crying. At last mamma heard him, and was just going to look for him, when papa overtook him, and brought him to the camp. He had scared the ducks so that they had none for breakfast, after all.

But mamma had the coffee-pot boiling by the fire; and the bread and butter, cakes, cold meat, and other things from the luncheon-basket, tasted very good in the cool autumn air.

Albert was much ashamed of having been such a coward, and promised never to be so foolish again. If he had done as his papa told him, he would not have got into such trouble.

After breakfast they all went to work in earnest, and soon had a fine lot of nuts. Albert also picked up some pretty shells by the river-brink. Then papa and mamma packed up the blankets, luncheon-basket, and other things, and, giving a parting look at the bright river, they turned the horses' heads towards home.

Grace Moeren.

[144]

## A FIELD-DAY WITH THE GEESE.

Joseph wants to be a soldier; but, not having any boys to drill, he has to content himself with drilling his uncle's geese. See them on parade! He has opened the gate: he has cried out, "Forward, march!" and in come the geese, black and white, single file.

Joseph stands proudly aside, as a commander ought to, while reviewing his troops. He has a flag in his hand. His cousin Richard is the trumpeter. Mary looks on with admiration, and does not remark that Fido, the sly dog, is trying to find out what she has good to eat in her basket.

Now let me tell you a few facts about geese. They have the reputation of being stupid; but Richard has not found them so. That leading goose goes by the name of Capt. Waddle. He does not hold up his head as a captain should; but he minds a good deal that Richard says to him, for he is very fond of Richard, and tries to do all that he is told to do.

I have heard of a goose who became very fond of a bull-dog. Grim, for that was the dog's name, had saved her from the clutch of a fox; and after that it seemed as if the poor goose could not do enough to show her gratitude. Every day she would keep as near to Grim as she could; and, when he was chained to his kennel, she would stay by, and show her affection in many ways.

At last the bull-dog was sent off to a neighboring town; and then the poor goose lost her appetite, and seemed to pine so, that her owner, Mrs. Gilbert, who was a humane woman, and took a great interest in dumb animals, sent for Grim to come back.

[145] It would have pleased you to see the meeting. The instant the goose heard Grim's familiar bark, she started up,[146] and ran with outstretched wings to greet him. She came as near to embracing him as a goose could. Grim seemed well pleased with her delight, and barked his acknowledgments in a tone that could not be mistaken.

The goose soon regained her appetite, and was not again parted from her dear Grim. The best of this story is, that it is true. So you see that even geese are not so stupid but that they show gratitude to those who befriend them.

Indeed, geese seem to be constant in their affections. They know, also, how to show anger. I remember once seeing a boy tease some geese in order to make them angry. They ran after him in a rage, seized hold of his clothes, and nipped him smartly to punish him for the insult.

Once, in Scotland, a young goose became so fond of its master, that it followed him everywhere, no matter how great the distance, and even through the crowd and tumult of a city.

Uncle Charles.

## WHAT WILLY DID.

When the gas was lighted,
Willy's mamma said,
"Maggie, feed the children,
And put them both to bed."
When the milk was eaten,
Maggie went for more:
So she put the baby
Down upon the floor.
Then the naughty Willy
Climbed up for a match,
And he lit it quickly
With a little scratch.
But it burnt his fingers
When the flame arose,
And suddenly he dropped it
On the baby's clothes.
Up it blazed so fiercely,
That, when Maggie came,
There was little baby
Screaming in the flame.
Maggie put the fire out,
And saved the baby too;
But Willy was so frightened
He knew not what to do.
He was sorry, too, for baby,
With arms all burnt and sore;
And so he never meddled
With matches any more.
H. F. W.

[147]

## LEARN TO THINK.

Walter Dane was in a hurry to go off to play at ball with some of his schoolfellows; and so he did not give much thought to the lesson which he had to learn.

It was a lesson in grammar. Walter's mother took the book, and said, "I fear my little boy finds it hard to put his thoughts on his lesson to-day."

"Try me, mother," said Walter. "I will do my best."

"Then, I will put you a question which is not in the[148] book," said mamma. "Which is the heavier,—a pound of feathers, or a pound of lead?"

"A pound of lead, to be sure!" cried Walter confidently.

"There! you spoke then without thinking," said Mrs. Dane. "A little thought would have made it clear to you that a pound is a pound, and that a pound of feathers must weigh just as much as a pound of lead."

"When I spoke, I was thinking that Tom Burton was out in the yard waiting for me," said Walter.

"Well, take your thoughts off from Tom Burton, and put them on the question I am now about to ask you. What is a noun?"

"A noun is a word used as the name of any object."

"Very well. A noun, then, is a name-word."

"But why is not every word a name-word just the same?" asked Walter.

"Different sorts of words have different uses," said Mrs. Dane. "If I say, 'Walter, come here,' by the word Walter, I name an object or person; and it is therefore a name-word, or noun. Noun means name. By the word come, I tell Walter what to do; and therefore come is a different sort of word from a name-word. Come is a verb. By the word here, I tell Walter where he must come; and so here is a different sort of word from both Walter and come. Here is an adverb."

"But, if I say 'Come,' do I not name something?" asked Walter.

"You certainly do not. What thing do you name? Come is not an object or thing; come is not a person. You cannot say, 'Give me a come,' or 'Let me see a come.'"

"But dog is a name-word, and tree is a name-word," cried Walter. "I can say, 'Give me a dog,' 'Let me see a tree;' can I not?"[149]

"You certainly can, my son," said Mrs. Dane.

"And sister, father, mother, sky, cloud, sun, moon, bread, butter, horse, cow, book, picture, water, land, doll, cart, ball, bat, are all name-words, or nouns; are they not, mother?"

"Yes: I think you begin to see now what a noun is. And let me say one thing more, and then you may run to see Tom Burton."

"What is it, mother?" inquired Walter.

"When your uncle gave you a box of mixed shells last winter, what did you do with them?"

"I sorted them carefully, putting those of the same kind together, so that I might learn their names, the places where they are found, and the habits of the little animals that live in them."

"And just so we ought to treat words. We must first sort them, so as to learn what their use is in speech, and how and where they ought to be used. Grammar teaches us to sort words. Now run and play."

Uncle Charles.

[150]

THE BROTHERS THAT DID NOT QUARREL. Two little brothers, loving fair weather, Played on the meadow, played there together; Yet not quite lonely were they that day On the bright meadow, while at their play. Six little swallows came and flew round, Over the tree-tops, over the ground; Butterflies, also, did not disdain Near them to flutter, glad to remain. There on the herbage tender and green Might these two brothers, playful be seen: Never they quarrelled; no angry words, Hastily uttered, shocked the dear birds. All through the daytime there the two played, Sometimes in sunshine, sometimes in shade. "And did not quarrel? Please stop your shams!" "I tell you truly. Why, they were lambs!" Ida Fay.

[151]

## GRANDPA AND THE MOUSE.

Grandpa Crane went into the city every morning. He had to go so far, and it was so late when he came home to dinner, he thought he would like to have something to eat while he was away.

So every day, when he was ready to go to the cars, Aunt Emmie gave him a little basket with a pretty round cover on it.

Inside she put cookies or gingerbread, or plum-cake with ever so many plums in it. Grandpa liked the plum-cake best of all the little basket carried.

The office he sat in was down on a wharf, where the water comes, and the wind blows, just as if it were out at sea.

When he had been there a long while, he would get his[152] basket, and eat what Aunt Emmie had put in it. As he was old, his hand would shake, and let bits of cake fall on the floor.

Now, a little gray mouse lived in a hole in that very floor, way up in a corner. His bright eyes peeped out at Grandpa Crane when he was eating; and he looked as though he would like to get those good bits if he could muster courage to do it.

One day mousie was so hungry, that he made bold to run at a crumb which had fallen a good way from grandpa's feet. He picked it up as quick as he could, and scampered back with it to his safe little hole.

Finding that grandpa did him no hurt, mousie tried it another day. After a while, he came out every time he saw grandpa open the little basket, and picked up all the crumbs that fell down.

One day grandpa was very tired, and fell fast asleep after he had eaten his cake. Pretty soon he felt a pull at his soft white hair. He put up his hand, and down ran mousie.

Not getting as much to eat that day as he wanted, mousie had just walked up grandpa's side to his shoulder, and then up on his head. Wasn't that a queer place for a mouse to try to find something to eat?

Aunt Emmie.

[153]

## HOME FROM THE WOODS.

It rains! and, hark! the rushing wind
Begins to moan and blow:
Take jug and basket, and come on.
For we have far to go.
Don't fret and whimper, little one;
Here, my umbrella take:
The birds heed not the pouring rain;
Just hear the songs they make!
And see how glad are leaf and bud
To get each cooling drop:
Come, soon it will be bright again,
For soon the rain will stop.
From the German.

[154]

## THE SPECKLED HEN.

The speckled hen walked all around the house, and saw the front-door open. So she walked right in, and went up stairs.
She peeped into the front-chamber, pecked a little at the carpet, and clucked with surprise when she saw herself in the looking-glass.
By and by she saw a wash-bowl standing on the top of the bureau. She thought this would make a nice place for a nest. So she flew up to see; but the bowl tipped over, and fell upon the floor.[155]
When the people came up stairs to see what was the matter, they found that the wash-bowl was all broken in pieces, and the hen had made her nest in the band-box in the corner of the room.
They thought this a very saucy thing for a hen to do; but they did not drive her out: they waited to see what she would do next.
By and by the hen came off, and flew up on the window-sill. Then she began to cackle very loud. I suppose she meant to say, "Go and look in the band-box."
W. O. C.

[156]

## STORY OF A DAISY.

Deep down in a snug little dell, beneath a high bank, near the roadside, grew a wild daisy. It had braved the snow and ice of winter, and was now putting forth its leaves to the soft breezes and blue skies of spring.

One day a party of boys and girls came to play near the daisy-plant's home; and she thought she would surely be trampled on and killed. But the children at last went away, and daisy-plant breathed freely once more.

But it was not long before she heard a child's voice cry, "Papa, papa, I can run down this bank. Let me run down this bank all by myself, dear papa." And, before papa could say Nay, down ran little Emma Vincent, and stood close beside daisy-plant.

"Oh, look at this darling daisy, only look, papa!" cried Emma; and in one little minute the child's finger and thumb had tight hold of the young daisy-plant's only flower.[157]

Tremble, now, daisy-plant; one little nip, and your beauty and pride will be gone. But something else than this was in store for poor daisy-plant. "I'll not gather the flower," said Emma. "The whole plant shall go into my garden, papa, just as it is."

Daisy-flower did not know its danger then, or maybe it would have shut up its eye, and hung down its head, for very fear. But, instead of this, it looked up as boldly as a modest daisy well could into the little girl's face.

So the whole plant was taken up by its roots; and Emma bore it carefully home, and with the aid of John, the gardener's boy, set it out nicely in her little flower-bed.

Emma took great care of daisy-plant, watering it at night, and protecting it from the hot sun at noon. Soon it began to thrive as bravely as in its own native dell. It was very happy, and could spare a flower or two without missing them so very much.

But one day, when she returned from a week's visit to her aunt, Emma missed her darling daisy-plant. "O papa!"[158] cried she, "somebody has taken it away,—my precious daisy."

Yes, a new gardener's boy, who had thought that it was a weed, had pulled it up, and thrown it, he could not tell where. It was hard to comfort Emma. Such a beautiful flower it seemed in her eyes! And she had found it, and put it in her own garden, and watched it and watered it so carefully!

And what had become of poor daisy-plant? Had it withered and perished? No, no! daisy-plants don't give up life and hope so easily as that. Daisy-plant was safe yet, though it had been thrown on a heap of rubbish.

The next day papa came in with something he had covered with a handkerchief. Emma took away the handkerchief, and clapped her hands for joy. "My own dear daisy," she said: "yes, I am sure it is the same. Thank you, dear papa!"

Yes, papa had found it on the rubbish, had washed it from dirt, and clipped off its broken leaves, and put it into a[159] pretty little flower-pot with some fine rich mould; and there was daisy as brisk and bright as ever.

Summer passed away, and autumn came, and Emma was as fond as ever of her dear plant. But Mrs. Vincent, Emma's mother, had been very ill, and Dr. Ware had cured her.

One day, while Emma was in the parlor with her father and mother, Dr. Ware came in.

"I need not come again," he said: "I am here now to say good-by. You will not want any more of my medicines."

Then Emma's papa thanked Dr. Ware very much for the skill and care which he had shown in the case; and Emma's mother said, "I hope to show you some day how grateful I am, Dr. Ware."

"What can I do to let him know how much I thank him?" thought Emma. "I will give him my little daisy-plant," said she. So she took it to Dr. Ware; and he was so much pleased, that he took her on his knee and kissed her. But I am not sure that a little tear did not drop on Daisy-flower, as Emma put it into the doctor's hand.

[160]

## WINIFRED WATERS.

[Transcriber's Note: You can play this music (MIDI file) by clicking here.]

2. Send her to the sandy plains, In the zone called torrid; Send her where it never rains, Where the heat is horrid. Mind that she has only flour For her daily feeding; Let her have a page an hour Of the driest reading. | 3. When the poor girl has endured Six months of this drying, Winifred will come back quite cured, Let us hope, of crying. Then she will not day by day Make those mournful faces, And we shall not have to say, "Wring her pillow cases."

### Transcriber's Note:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

This issue was part of an omnibus. The original text for this issue did not include a title page or table of contents. This was taken from the July issue with the "No." added. The original table of contents covered the second half of 1873. The remaining text of the table of contents can be found in the rest of the year's issues.

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