Tiny stories for tiny readers

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Material Information

Title:
Tiny stories for tiny readers
Physical Description:
1 v. (unpaged) : ill, music ; 21 cm.
Language:
English
Creator:
Stevens, E ( Engraver )
Swain, Joseph, 1820-1909 ( Engraver )
E.P. Dutton (Firm) ( Publisher )
Dalziel Brothers ( Engraver )
Publisher:
E.P. Dutton and Company
Place of Publication:
New York
Publication Date:

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1881   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1881
Genre:
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- New York -- New York

Notes

General Note:
Illustrations engraved by E. Stevens, Dalziel and Swain.
General Note:
Includes music.
Funding:
Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management:
All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier:
aleph - 002238584
notis - ALH9102
oclc - 19480032
System ID:
UF00049533:00001


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E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY
713 BROADWAY
1881
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LIZZIE'S BIRTHDAY PARTY.

T is Lizzie's birthday, and mamma has given her per-
mission to have her cousins to tea. She has been
very busy all day getting out her toys--her tea-things,
Noah's ark, donkey, battledore, and dolls-everything
she can think of, which will be likely to amuse her
guests. They have now just arrived, and Lizzie is
doing her best to entertain them. That is Lizzie on the
floor making tea with her cousin Dora. It is only make-
believe tea, of course, but they have real sugar in the
basin, and Lizzie means to offer a cup to each of
her friends, as the lady of the house should do. She
has lent her new doll to Carry, who is older than any
of the others. Dolly is such a beauty, with long clothes
and blue eyes, that she would be afraid to trust one of
the little ones with her. Flo is very much amused with
the scrap-book, which she is showing to her brother
Eddie. But he is rather young for parties, and is apt
to be shy at first. Nelly is a little shy too, but that
will soon wear off when they have had a game at hunt
the slipper, which Lizzie is going to propose, because
she thinks they will all enjoy that, and she is most
anxious to make her friends happy.





















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GOING TO THE SEASIDE.

GOING off to the seaside! Oh! what fun it is! Did
you ever go ? If so, you know all about it. Reg-
gie has never seen the sea, and cannot imagine what
it is like : but he is in a great state of excitement. He
has been packing up for the last week. He wanted to
take his rocking-horse and all his toys with him, and
was sadly vexed when Nurse told him he could not do
so. Then he chose out a few favorites, and spent one
whole day in tying up various playthings in huge brown
paper parcels. A fresh disappointment awaited him,
when, on the morning of departure, mamma told him
that they could not find room for these in the trunks.
However, there was so much that was amusing and ex-
citing going on, on that day, that Reggie had no time
to brood over his troubles. Only when the last load of
luggage was being wheeled away in a barrow by the
gardener for the railway station was close to the
house Reggie remembered his rocking-horse. Oh!
papa, do let me take that," he said. There is plenty
of room on the barrow. I do so want to ride it on the
sea." Wasn't Reggie a silly boy You shall have a
rocking boat instead," said papa, smiling.






























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UOING TO THE SEASIDE.








AT THE SEASIDE.

IF you have ever been to the seaside you know quti.
well what Reggie's papa meant by a rocking boat.
Indeed, the first time that Reggie tried it, he
thought it rocked
rather too much, and
was a little fright-
ened. But very
soon there was no-
thing he enjoyed
better than a sail
with the fresh wind
blowing in his face
and the spray danc-
ing over him. He
"made great friends
with an old sailor
called David, who
would sometimes
take him out in his
boat, without papa
or anyone with him, and then Reggie felt quite a
man. Here he is just coming home, and he is leap-
ing from old David's arms into Nurse's as she stands
waiting for him on the shore.
"One two three There you are, little master, safe







AT THE SEASIDE.

and sound," says old David. Reggie thinks he never
had such fun before. But perhaps you are not very
fond of boating. Some little girls are not. But
I am sure you like __ -_
digging in the sand, F-- -
don't you? I dare
say you have a spade
and a pail, and often
pile up a heap of -
sand, and then make
a tunnel through it,
and perhaps a trench
down to the sea, so
that the waves may _
flow gently in. Even
papa takes great in-
terest in the work,
and tells you which
is the best way to
dig your trench so as
to get the water in. And when the tide comes up you
stand a little way off and watch how one wave catches
your sand castle, and how it tries to resist; and then
how the next wave comes, and the next and the next.
And so in time the poor castle vanishes quite away.











PAPA TO TEA IN THE NURSERY.

NELLIE has a cold and cannot leave the nursery,
but papa comes to give her a kiss every day before
he goes into the City. "Oh, what nice toast !" said
papa one morning. I wish you would ask me to tea
with you, Nellie, and give me some toast like that."
"What fun it would be Do come, papa How shall
I ask you-what shall I say ?" You must say, 'Miss
Nellie requests the pleasure of papa's company to tea
and toast.' Don't forget the toast, mind." "Very well,
that is what I do say, papa," returned Nellie. Then,
' Mr. Papa presents his compliments, and will have much
pleasure in accepting Miss Nellie's kind invitation,' said
papa. Come this afternoon, won't you, papa ?" Papa
thought a minute. Let me see. To-day is Saturday.
I think I must go volunteering this afternoon, little
lady." Nellie clapped her hands. "Oh splendid !" she
cried. "Then you can come in your uniform. I love
you so much in your uniform, papa." "Do you ?" said
papa, laughing. Well, if a gallant soldier comes to
tea with you I shall expect you will make a very great
fuss with him." Oh, of course I will, and make his
tea myself-and put heaps of sugar in it." "All right,"
said papa. So papa came dressed in all the glory of his








PAPA TO TEA IN THE NURSERY.

uniform, and what fun it was. Nellie poured out the
tea; and what a number of cups papa did drink, to be
sure, and how difficult he was to satisfy in the matter
of sugar and----
milk. And
what a number "' "
of pieces of
toast he ateT i'amir I .r
" See what it
is to invite a
hungry war-
rior. Bring
some more,
Nurse, if you
please," he
kept on say-
ing, till Nurse
looked quite
frightened. "I
am not asked
out to tea
every day, you __,, __-_ _-_-
know," said papa. And Nellie laughed, and papa
laughed, and they were as merry as two little birds
on a bough.









WAITING FOR THE CHILDREN.

THIS is Mrs. Burley, the miller's wife. She has come
to meet her children on their way home from
school. They are rather later than usual, and she is
a little anxious about them; for though she trusts them
to go to and from school alone, she always forbids them
to loiter by the way, or to stay playing about with the
village children. She has strolled down the garden and
through the corn-field, and now she will be able to see
the little girls as soon as they turn out of the village.
Ah! there they are. She lets her knitting drop, and
watches them. They do not see her at first. Then all
at once there is an outcry-a scamper-a race. Are
we not late, dear mother ?" says Kate, breathless. Did
you think we were kept in? But it is not that at all.
Annie is top of the class, and is made monitress, and so
we have to wait, and to put away the books. Isn't it
nice ?" The mother smiles and kisses them. "And
where are you in your class, idle Kitty?" "Oh!
nowhere in particular, mother; Annie is clever enough
for us both. Don't you think so ? The mother tries
to look disapproving, but she cannot manage it. Laugh-
ing and chatting, they turn homewards, mother in the
middle, and a little daughter hanging on each of her
arms.











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THE HOSPITAL TREAT.

DO you know what a hospital is? It is a place where
poor people go when they are ill, and there they
are nursed and taken care of, better than they could
be in their own small uncomfortable homes. All these
poor old women are ill-too ill to leave their beds, you
see.
But what are these young ladies doing here?
They have come to try and cheer these poor sufferers
with their bright presence and pleasant words. They
are making tea for them now. It is Christmas Day, a
day when everyone ought to be glad and happy; and
these kind girls are doing all that they can to make it
a bright one to the invalids who have so little pleasure
in their lives. Perhaps each of these girls felt it to be
rather a sacrifice to leave her own cheerful home and
merry Christmas gathering, to come among all these
sick people; but I am sure they are all rewarded for
the exertion by the looks of gratitude and pleasure
which they see on the pale faces around them.
And they are, after all, much happier than if they
had thought only of pleasing themselves. There is no
happiness in the world so -eat as that of making other
people happy.









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FARMER HALES.

WHEN I was a child, Farmer Hales was a great
friend of mine. He was the kindest and gentlest
old man possible, and there was nothing I enjoyed more
than paying him a visit. We always found him sitting
in his high wooden chair, reading the Bible; but when
we came he would put that gently aside, and take off
his spectacles. Then, with his hands clasped before
him, and pussy purring at his knees, he would settle
down to tell us a story.
What we liked best was to hear of what "used to
be" when he was young. Of course that was a
long time ago-long before railways, or steamboats,
or gas, and many other things which we think quite
natural and necessary, were invented. People travelled
then in stage-coaches, and many a tale had Farmer
Hales to tell of these coaches overturned, or buried
in the snow, or stopped by highwaymen.
The good farmer had been a soldier, too, in his youth,
and had fought at the great Battle of Waterloo, where
the English beat the French. I think we liked that
story the best of all, and, perhaps, so did the farmer
himself, for he certainly told it to us the oftenest.






























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THE RACE.

THIS is a little Norwegian girl called Frida. She
and her dog are going to have a race. Which do
you think will win ? I rather think that Bruno the dog
will. You see he has four legs, whereas poor Frida has
only two. So it is hardly fair to expect her to go as
fast as he can.
Friday's nurse is going to throw the ball, and
both the little girl and the dog are waiting anxiously
for the word to start. Bruno has one paw in the
air all ready, and capital fun it will be. You see
the snow is lying white on the ground, but Frida does
not mind the cold. She is well wrapped up, and she is
going to have a good run, which will be sure to warm
her. Besides. people in Norway think nothing of a
little bit of snow. The cold there is sometimes very
severe indeed; and people have to take care that their
noses do not freeze.
Sometimes a person meeting a friend will take up
a handful of snow and rub his friend's nose, instead of
shaking hands. "Excuse me, my dear sir, your nose
was freezing," he will say, and will then go on talking.
Are you not rather glad that Mr. Jack Frost does not
nip our noses in that way ?

































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F A,
THE AMIR.~








A STORY BY FIRELIGHT.-I.

H ARRY has come in from snow-balling, and finds
Maggie seated in a big arm-chair by the fire.
" What are you doing ?" he asks.
Thinking stories."
"I wish you would speak them instead," returns
Harry.
So Maggie begins. "Sitting here so cosily by the fire
while it is snowing so fast outside, somehow reminds me
of a story uncle James once told us of a little girl who
was nearly lost in the snow."
How was that ?" asks Harry.
"She was a little French girl, called Jeannette,
who lived with her mother and little sister in a
lonely cottage. One snowy day poor little Bebe
fell down and broke her arm. 'Let me go for the
doctor, dear mother,' said Jeannette. 'My child, it is
four miles to the village, and the snow is deep. Thou
wilt be lost, I fear.' No, no, little mother; I can find
the way, and thou canst not leave our poor Beb6,'
pleaded Jeannette. And so, with many directions and
cautions, she at length set out on her long walk. Safely
and quickly she accomplished her task and delivered her
message. The good doctor at once mounted his pony,
and Jeannette started on her journey back again.


































































A STORY BY FIRELIGHT.









A STORY BY FIRELIGHT.-II.

"ALAS for poor Jeannette. The snow came on
Sticker, and faster, the farther she went. The
daylight faded-she could no longer find her way. After
wandering about for a long time, she was at length
overcome by fatigue and cold, and, lying down in the
snow, she fell fast asleep.
She did not know that she had chosen the frozen
mill-stream for a bed, and that it was the huge
mill-wheel under the shadow of which she had crept.
Had the ice melted, she must certainly have been
drowned. Fortunately, the miller's wife came out to
fetch some faggots for the wood fire, and saw some-
thing lying dark on the snow. To her surprise and
horror, she found it was a little girl half frozen to death.
The kind care of this good woman quickly restored
the brave little girl; but the villagers ever afterwards
called the mill-stream 'Jeannette's cradle,' in remem-
brance of her adventure."
"Thank you, Maggie," said Harry when his sister
stopped. I am so glad the old woman found her, and
that she was not quite frozen. Are you not glad ? Dear
me, it makes one quite cold to think about it."




































































A STORY BY FlKELIGHT.










JENNY'S PENNY.

TENNY'S mamma used to give her a penny every
Saturday morning when she had done her lessons
very nicely all the week. If she had any bad marks
she did not get her penny; but, as a rule, Jenny was a
good little girl, and did not often lose her reward.
The great question was how to dispose of the money.
Sometimes she saved it up for several weeks, until it
became quite a large sum, and then she would buy a
new toy or some furniture for her doll's house.
One day in spring Jenny was walking with her papa
and mamma, and they passed a poor man with a bunch of
flowers in his hand. He was thinly clad, and looked
hungry and cold, for" the weather, although it was
spring, was windy and bleak. Jenny had her penny
in her hand. She was going to give herself a little
treat this week and buy some sweets, but when
she saw the poor man and the pretty spring flowers,
she said to herself, "I am sure that poor man would
be glad of my penny, he looks so cold and hungry;
and I think mamma would like the flowers, so I will just
buy them instead of the sweets, and then I shall be
able to give pleasure to two people instead of only one."






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THE LITTLE GRAVE.

R. MORLEY is sitting in the old churchyard by
the grave of his little girl. It is years and years
ago since she was taken from him, but he still pays many
a visit to that quiet spot, where the rose and sweet cle-
matis twine together and scent the summer air. He is
thinking fondly of the little one dead so long ago.
If my child had lived she would have been almost a
woman now. How strange it seems," he says softly to
himself as he reads the inscription before him-her
name, Leila Morley," and her age, "three." As
he looks and remembers all her pretty baby ways,
his eyes grow dim with unshed tears. Then he rouses
himself; he turns from the green earth below to the
bright sky above him, and the sad look passes away
from his face. My Father, not my will, but Thine be
done," he murmurs.
And so, looking upward through the mist of his
tears, he seems to see the little child-angel at the gate
of heaven, her garments shining and her face all smiles.
Never again to be sorry or sad, naughty or in pain;
she stands there radiant in happiness, her little arms
outstretched, just as she used to hold them to her
father long ago. And as he sees her he too smiles, for
he knows she is waiting there for him.






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KING BABY.

'I am monarch of all I survey,'
And subjects I have great and small,
My will they are bound to obey,
For I am the darling of all.

By smiles and caresses I reign,
By a tear I can quell and subdue,
And when I would make friends again
I need but to say sombthlng new."

YES, that is our baby Doesn't he !ook like a little
king sitting on his throne with a sceptre in his
hand? Papa is going to take his photograph. Mind
you don't move, Charley, or else the sun will never be
able to take your likeness properly. Do you know that
when you are photographed it is the sun which tqkes
your portrait? We want to have a good-a very good
likeness of our baby, that we may send it to Aunt
Louie in America. She is his godmother, and she has
never'seen him yet. She does not know what a beauty
he is. We are all so fond of him. He is such a good
baby, and he is beginning to talk so nicely.

















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SPRING FLOWERS.

Brightly.


Who'll buy my flow-ers, my pret ty spring flow- ers? Vio lets sweet and







tu lips gay, Who'll buy my flow ers, my pret ty spring flow ers







Ga ther'd all to day? Who'll buy my flow ers, my pret ty spring







flow ers? Who'll buy my flow- ers to day?

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AUNTIE'S BIRTHDAY.

IT is Auntie Alice's birthday, and her little nieces,
Effie and Constance, have brought her some roses
to deck her hair for the great occasion.
They both have little gardens of their own, which
they water and rake with great care. In each is a rose-
tree, and they have been' anxiously watching the buds
for some days past, being very much afraid that the
roses would blow too soon, or not soon enough. But to
their great delight this morning they found two beau-
ties just open, and now they have brought them to dear
Auntie with their birthday good wishes.
Mamma and papa have come, too, to wish her many
happy returns of the day; and Effie has been telling
Constance, as a great, great secret, that mamma has a
lovely present for Auntie, because she is twenty-one
to-day.
"Twenty-one! is she really ? I wonder if grand-
mamma can be as old as that," Concy had remarked.
I don't know." Effie was a year older than Coney,
and so of course she knew a great deal more. Still
she did not feel sure about that.
We will ask her when we give her the roses," she
said.






































































AUNTIE'S BMIUTDA1.











THE MONKS.

THESE strange figures are monks. You will see that
they have bare feet, with sandals instead of shoes;
a dress something like a dressing-gown with a hood,
and a rope round their waists. I don't suppose you ever
saw any men really dressed in this curious way; but if
ever you go to foreign countries, you will, I dare say,
see some of them.
They do not, however, go out very often. They
have no nice homes, with a dear papa and mamma, and
little children, and kind, useful servants. They live,
"a number of them together, in a big house called
"a monastery, and they spend all their time in read-
ing and studying and going to church. Besides, they
have to cook their own dinners, and scrub and wash,
so that they are not idle.
But we should think it was a very dull life never to
go out for a walk or see our friends. Often they have
nice gardens, which they sow and plant and keep in
order, and they make medicine out of some of the plants,
which they give to the poor people when they are ill;,
and sometimes the children who live near go to the-
monastery to be taught reading and writing.










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THE CONVENT CHIOOm.

THIS is a convent school in France, and these are
little French children. Do you see what funny
shoes they wear? They are made of wood, and are
called sabots. They are rather clumsy, are they not?
and not very comfortable, I should think.
The women in the curious dress who are teaching the
children, are nuns. I have told you something about
monks who live shut up in monasteries. Well, nuns are
women who live much in the same way, shut up in
houses called convents. They generally devote a great
deal of their time to teaching poor little children, who,
without them, would never learn to read and write.
The nuns are all called sisters. Sister Therese is hear-
ing a class of little children say their spelling lesson.
They are all standing in a row with their hands behind
them, and are very good and attentive.
The little girl in front is only just learning her letters.
I am afraid she is not looking much at her book, but
Sister Marie is very patient with her, and is never tired
of showing her which is big B and which is crooked S.











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THE STORM.

THERE has been a storm. Do you know what that
is? Have you never lain in your warm, cozy
bed and heard the wind howling and raging outside-
beating against the house till it shook ? And you have
hidden your face beneath the clothes trembling, though
you were safe and sheltered. Ah child, only think
what a storm must be to those at sea. The wind and
the waves roaring, and men's hearts failing them for
fear It is over now. The waves are gentle and the
wind still. But by the wreck on the beach there, we
know that some have been in trouble through the
wild night. And see how anxiously this fisherman's
wife is looking out to sea. A sleepless, anxious night
it has been to her, and with the first dawn of day she
has mounted the cliff to look out for her husband's boat.
She strains her eyes eagerly over the waters, half fear-
ing, half hoping. All at once she gives a cry of delight.
In the distance she sees the little boat making for
shore. The sails are torn, it moves along like some
poor bird with a broken wing; but there it is-in a
very little while her husband will be with her. She
will run down to the beach to welcome him. What a
happy meeting tha* will be 1












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THE DOLL'S HOUSE.

MARY and Zilda had a doll's house which they were
very fond of. They took great pains to keep it
in order. All the rooms were papered and carpeted,
and every week they turned it out from top to bottom,
brushed, scrubbed, and dusted it. There was a fireplace
in each room, and there were pictures hanging on the
walls, a chandelier in the drawing-room, and in the best
bedroom a shower-bath and a real brush and comb on
the dressing-table.
They had also a large family of dolls, which their
cousins Emily and Rose helped them to dress. Emily
was very clever at making hats-the tiniest little things
you can imagine; but the great difficulty was to keep
them on the dolls' heads. There was a mamma doll, and
several little girls, all of different sizes, down to a baby
in a cradle. She, unfortunately, was fixed in the cradle
and wouldn't come out. They had also a nurse, a cook,
and one little boy in red velvet, whose name was Peter.
Mary dressed Peter, and a great deal of trouble
she had with him. Indeed, one of his legs came
off in dressing; but as he never could have stood
up properly without petticoats to support him, the little
girls agreed that it looked better for him to be rather an
invalid.







THE DOLL'S HOUSE.

Zilda was very anxious to have a papa doll too,
and made several attempts with one; but he was very
troublesome, and was in the habit of losing both his
arms and legs directly she attempted to dress him. This
greatly interfered with his appearance, and with the















comfort of his family, for he was perpetually tumbling
about and upsetting somebody.
So at last they had to give him up as a bad job.
And they decided that he must be a soldier always with
his regiment in India.
And really he wasn't wanted," said Mary. The
ladies got on much better without him."










THE BOY WITH THE BROKEN LEG.

Y OU will feel very sorry for ihiL boy, I am sure,
because you will see that he is ill, and by the
crutch which he is holding, you will know that he is
lame, and has probably met with some accident.
Perhaps when you hear all about it you will not pity
him quite so much: and yet I think you should really
pity him the more; for when people do wrong and bring
troubles on themselves, they always suffer very much.
"Well, this boy, Richard Drake, was bird-nesting, when
he fell from a tree and broke his leg. This is an amuse-
ment which some boys delight in; but it is a cruel, bad
amusement to rob the dear birds of the homes they have
taken such pains and care to build, and it very often
leads to trouble. Richard has been ill a long time, and
may perhaps be lame all his life. He is very sorry now
that he went bird-nesting, especially since he has been
well enough to sit in his chair by the window and watch
the birds flying about the branches of the big tree in the
garden, and listen to their sweet music. They seem to
Richaid to come and sing their best songs to him, as if
to say, We are not angry with you, but only sorry for
you, and we are sure you will not hurt us any more."

















































































THE BOY WITH THE 1lIOKEN LEG.








BLIND CHILDREN.

HIS is the picture of a little blind boy. Must it
not be sad to be blind-never to see the beautiful
sky and earth,
the pretty
flowers, and
the dear faces
of our friends ?
Yet blind peo-
ple are, as a
rule, very pa-
tient and
happy. It is
wonderful to
see how much
they are able to
do. Just shut
your eyes and
try to walk to
the door, and
you will pro-
bably find
yourself quite
in the wrong place; but many blind persons find their
way about as well as though they had sight. They
are also very clever with their hands, and may be
said to have ten eyes, for they seem to have an eye in







BLIND CHILDREN.

each of their fingers. They read with their fingers as
well and as quickly as you could with your eyes. There
are books
printed on__
purpose for
them, with
the letters
raised, so
that they
can feel
each one.
The girl in
the picture
is reading
aloud, you
see. Blind
children
are also
taught to
make bas-
kets, mats,
brushes,
and all
sorts of useful things Still it is a sad affliction, and we
who can see, ought to be very thankful for that great
blessing.









PLAYING DRAUGHTS.

THIS brother and sister are playing draughts. Do
you know what that is ? It is a very interesting
game, which is played with little round pieces of wood
upon a black and white checked board. The white men
fight against the black men, like so many little soldiers,
to see who can beat the other out of the field. It is
difficult, because there are a great many rules to re-
member. And there is no good in playing a game at
all unless one does it properly, is there ?
Bessie is thinking very deeply of what her next move
should be. She knows that if she plays carelessly
she will lose. As it is, I fancy that Bob has the best
chance, for he has been more careful all along.
.But then when two people play a game, one must win
and the other lose, or it would never be ended. I have
seen little boys and girls who get quite cross when they
lose; but that is very silly. I am sure Bessie will not
be cross if she is beaten, but will be quite ready to try
her chance again. I wonder if she will win or not.
Tom is watching the players very intently. He knows
what Bessie ought to do, but it would not be right to
tell. It might spoil the game.












































































PLAYING DRAUGHTS.









ALFRED'S UNTRUTH.-I.

C HILDREN little know when they are naughty how
unhappy they make those who love them.
This papa and mamma are very sad, for their little boy
Alfred, whom they dearly love, has been very naughty
to-day.
Generally when papa comes home, Alfred rushes to
meet him in the hall with a shout of welcome, and there
is a great game of horses, or some such fun before dinner.
But to-night there is no little Alfred to be seen, and
when papa asks for him, mamma is obliged to say, He
has been so naughty this afternoon that I have sent him
to bed."
What has he done ?" asks papa.
"He has told a falsehood." And then papa looks
very grieved too, for of all the faults that a little boy can
commit that is the very worst. Even Prince, the dog,
seems to know that something is unusually wrong this
evening. He looks up wistfully into his master's face,
as much as to say, Isn't there anything I can do to
help ?"
You would not understand, poor Prince, even if we
told you. But you miss your romp to-night just as
much as Alfred and papa, don't you 2


































































'ALFRED'S UNTRUTH.










ALFRED'S UNTRUTH.-II.

PRESENTLY mamma goes up to see Alfred in his
little bed, and she is rather grieved and surprised
to find him fast asleep.
She fears that her boy is not sorry for his fault, and
that he does not care. She sits down at the foot of the
bed and thinks how dreadful it will be if her Alfred
should grow up to be a bad, untruthful boy. She is so
unhappy that she begins to cry.
In a little while Alfred is wakened by the sound of a
low sobbing and breathing; and starting up, he sees
his mother.
He is not quite so naughty as she feared. He does
care, and is very sorry; and had, in reality, sobbed
himself to sleep. He cannot bear to see his dear mamma
in tears. He creeps quietly out of bed, and throws his
arms round her neck.
Darling mother, I am so sorry. I am indeed. Only
forgive me, and I will never tell an untruth again," he
cries. So his mamma is comforted. Taking him on her
knee, she talks to him very kindly for a long while, and
then he falls to sleep again, holding his dear mamma's
hand clasped tightly in his.







































~h B~B~%~I !B !'ilJill l





























ALFRED'SUNTKRUTH.
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ITALIAN FRUIT-SELLERS.

THESE gentlemen are in Italy. They have just landed
from their ship, and all the people round them are
poor Italians, who are come either to beg or to sell
things to the travellers. Do you notice what funny caps
the women wear ? They look very picturesque with
these white head-dresses and bright-coloured jackets
and petticoats. One gentleman, you see, wants to buy
some fruit. He is holding a shilling in his hand, and
Beppo (that is the name of the boy with the basket) is
going to give him some peaches in exchange for the
shilling. Fruit in Italy is very fine, because the climate
is so warm, and it is very cheap too; but yo,1 see Beppo
does not wish to give more peaches for the shilling than
he can help. He cannot speak English, and the gentle-
man cannot speak Italian, so they can only talk by
signs. What a good thing it must be to be able to talk
all sorts of foreign languages. When -you are older, I
hope you will learn French, and German, and Italian,
and then you will always be able to make yourself
understood wherever you go. You would find it very
awkward if you were in a foreign country and could
not make any one understand that you wanted your
dinner or your tea: would you not ?






































































ITALIAN FRUIT-SELLERS.










HYMN.

GOD of Mercy, God of Love,
Hear me from thy throne above;
Grant me quiet sleep to-night,
Resting on thine arm of might.

"Why should I the darkness fear
When, dear Lord, thou art so near ?
Thou art watching: so I may
Safely sleep till dawn of day.

Or if wakeful I should be,
Grant me holy thoughts of thee;
Let me feel how good thou art;
That will still my beating heart.

"Weak and foolish tho' I am,
Thou dost love thy little lamb;
Thou wilt all my terror soothe,
And my troubled pillow smooth.

Great All-Father be my stay,
Every night and every day,
Till my little course is run,
Till th' eternal rest is won.






r-p
I,13 II









THE MOONLIGHT WALK.

ELMA NORTH has been to spend the day with her little
friend Hetty; and as it is Hetty's birthday, Ehna
has been allowed to stay rather later than usual. It was
half-past nine o'clock before nurse came to fetch her;
and as Elma generally goes to bed at seven, she thinks
this, a great treat. They will not take five minutes
going home. They have only to go across the road into
their own garden, and up the avenue by the river side.
It is a lovely summer night, and the moon is shining
brightly. But Elma has never been out in the moon-
light before, and she feels rather frightened. She clings
close to nurse. Oh, Dahdy, how strange, how white
everything looks! Don't you think there are giants
among the trees?" she whispers, for she is really afraid
of speaking above her breath. Perhaps she thinks the
giants may hear. Nonsense, dear," says Dahdy, re-
assuringly. "There are no giants nowadays; and if
there were, they would not come out in the moonlight.
It is only the dear little fairies who used to do that.
Giants, indeed !" she adds contemptuously, when they
have left the avenue well behind them. They are but
timid creatures at best, and would be frightened at
their own shadows I"







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SKATING '1T MARKET.

DO you remember seeing the skating last winter when
the pond was frozen over ? You thought it a
very pretty sight, and enjoyed it extremely, I am sure,
though Master Jack Frost kept on pinching your nose
and fingers all the time. If you yourself had been
able to skate, you would not have felt the cold, for the
quick movement would have kept you warm.
Look at these women in the picture. They are skating
away to market with heavy basketfuls of vegetables,
butter, and cheese, on their heads. They do not feel the
cold one bit. They go so fast that they seem almost to
fly along the ice. They are Dutch women.
Holland is a country where there are a great many
canals and very few roads. People there travel by
water quite as much as by land. But during the winter
the canals are frozen, and no boats can go; so the
people then skate along the ice instead.
In all countries where the winter is long and severe,
as in Russia, Norway, or America, people skate a
great deal; and they also use carriages without wheels,
which slip along the frozen ground very rapidly. These
carriages are called sleighs.


































































































Mlwmm. 1l








THE BREAKING-UP.

T was the day before the Christmas holidays, and
Robbie was very busy packing up his clothes, or
rather giving them to Smith, the school-maid, to pack
for him. Dear me! what a number of things she
managed to cram into that black-leather bag! How
clever and good-natured she was, though she scolded
and packed alternately !
"What, another pair of boots !" she exclaimed when
the bag already seemed quite full. Yet she found room
for them. And, "What more waistcoats and caps-
impossible I've put in a dozen already." Yet in they
went, in the neatest and most comfortable manner
possible.
Smith was the kindest creature, though she did scold
a little sometimes; and no wonder, for the boys
teazed her very life out. But she was so fond of
them all; and when any one of them was ill, nursed
and watched him almost with the patience and de-
votion of a mother. The only thing that made her
really angry was when they tore their clothes by
climbing the trees. Fair wear and tear she did not
mind, she would say, and socks would come into holos;
but why young gentlemen should go clambering about
trees, like so many apes, she could not understand.









THE BREAKING-UP.

Robbie was very fond of Smith, for she had been
very kind to him on several occasions, and he was not
an ungrateful child. Indeed, he possessed many good
qualities; but he had one great fault about which I am
going to tell you. He was a very greedy boy. On
this day he was
especially happy,
not so much because
lessons were over, or
because his mamma
was coming to fetch
him on the morrow,
but I am ashamed to
say, because there
was to be a great
breaking-up supper
this evening. He
had written to tell
his mamma about it,
and she had sent
him a hamper fall
of cakes, tarts, and
all sorts of nice things. Numbers of the boys had
hampers sent to them too, so you may imagine there
was plenty of good cheer, and those who ate moderately,








THE BREAKING-UP,

like sensible little boys, enjoyed themselves very
much.
But Robbie was determined to lose none of the
dainties, and I will now tell you what he had for his
supper.
Jam tarts to begin with. Then mince pies. Next
plum cake, with almonds, and raisins, and oranges;
then jam tarts again. So I don't think you will be sur-
prised to hear that Robbie made himself ill.
The next day mamma came to fetch him home; but
instead of seeing her boy watching for her at the window,
or running to meet her, as she had expected, she found
him lying in bed, sick and miserable, and scarcely able to
speak or to welcome her. What a sad thing it is to be
greedy !
However, Robbie was sorely punished for his fault.
I could not count the number of nasty draughts and
powders which he had to swallow. And though after
some days he was well enough to return home, yet
all the holidays, instead of enjoying cook's nice cakes
and pies like his brothers and sisters, he was obliged to
live upon mutton broth and rice pudding, which to a
little boy who likes good things very much was a real
trial. I don't think he will be greedy again, do you ?





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