• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Kingie in the hunting field
 The badger
 The little artist
 The woodpecker
 "Me" and my dog!
 Bears
 One fault leads to another
 The house-martin
 Duke and the donkey
 The hare
 Too good an aim
 The dipper
 Boxer's mistake
 Sliding
 Elephants
 A boat race
 The woodpigeon and the stock-d...
 Gertrude's exercise book
 The pig
 Sprinkling patience
 The kingfisher
 How Ella won Polly's heart
 The beaver
 Kingie and Ethel
 Back Cover
 Spine






Group Title: Stories Maggie told
Title: The stories Maggie told
CITATION PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00054553/00001
 Material Information
Title: The stories Maggie told
Physical Description: 64 p. : ill. ; 23 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Corbould, A. Chantrey ( Aster Chantrey ), d. 1920 ( Illustrator )
Fraser, Francis Arthur ( Illustrator )
Weeks, Charlotte J ( Illustrator )
Weir, Harrison, 1824-1906 ( Illustrator )
George Routledge and Sons ( Publisher )
Dalziel Brothers ( Engraver )
Publisher: George Routledge & Sons
Place of Publication: London ;
New York
Publication Date: [1886?]
 Subjects
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1886   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1886   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1886
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
United States -- New York -- New York
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: with illustrations by A.C. Corbould, F.A. Fraser, Charlotte Weeks, and Harrison Weir.
General Note: Date of publication from inscription.
General Note: Contains prose and verse.
General Note: Some illustrations engraved by Dalziel.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00054553
Volume ID: VID00001
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 - 002237935
notis - ALH8429
oclc - 66459201

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Page i
    Half Title
        Page ii
    Frontispiece
        Page iii
    Title Page
        Page iv
    Kingie in the hunting field
        Page 5
        Plate
        Page 6
    The badger
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
    The little artist
        Page 10
        Page 11
    The woodpecker
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
    "Me" and my dog!
        Page 15
        Page 16
    Bears
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
    One fault leads to another
        Page 20
        Page 21
    The house-martin
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
    Duke and the donkey
        Page 25
        Page 26
    The hare
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
    Too good an aim
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
    The dipper
        Page 34
        Page 35
    Boxer's mistake
        Page 36
        Page 37
    Sliding
        Page 38
        Page 39
    Elephants
        Page 40
        Page 41
    A boat race
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
    The woodpigeon and the stock-dove
        Page 45
        Page 46
    Gertrude's exercise book
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
    The pig
        Page 50
        Page 51
    Sprinkling patience
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
    The kingfisher
        Page 55
        Page 56
    How Ella won Polly's heart
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
    The beaver
        Page 60
        Page 61
    Kingie and Ethel
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
    Back Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text

























*u
I[



'p.















....
I,.,


V
-- ?'~'l'-rrr l~ r--

















"4.
C'






4. 44





A _
44~i ~J
































II


































The Baldwin Library
Univcrsnity
9jm'B Pt















CJiz (r ,I i
















THE STORIES MAGGIE TOLD




























































Frontispiece Making a Daisy-Chain.







THE



STORIES MAGGIE TOLD
























WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. C. CORBOULD, F. A. FRASER, CHARLOTTE WEEKS,
AND HARRISON WEIR




LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS
BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL
NEW YORK: 9 LAFAYETTE PLACE









KINGIE IN THE HUNTING FIELD.

i ,- I INGIE, was once afraid to ride, and
BI was looked upon as quite a little
/ coward; but he had got over this, and
S was now thought very much the re-
S verse. His sister Kate had a pony called
...f. Billy Button, and was very glad to lend
..fl her gallant little grey to her brother,
-j because, as she said, Kingie had such
a good hand, and so much nerve, that
he was fast breaking Master Billy of his
bad habit of shying, and other little tricks.
Kingie had been out cub-hunting once or twice, with his mother;
but one ever-to-be-remembered November morning, his father called
to him across the passage, from his dressing-room to Kingie's bed-
room, where the little boy was still lying snoozing comfortably:
Kingie, Kingie! what do you say'to a ride with the hounds
to-day?"
Kingie's eyes were wide open now, I can tell you; there was no
more snoozing for him; he was out of bed in the twinkling of an
eye. He rushed across to his father's dressing-room, exclaiming,
"Father, may I really go?"
"Certainly you shall," said his father, "and I have no doubt
that Katie will lend you Billy Button for your mount; he can take
his fences well when he likes."
Accordingly Kingie accompanied his father to the meet, which
was held at a place only about two miles off. Here the little fellow
was much gratified with the sight of the pack, the huntsman,
whipper-in, master of the hounds, and a good number of red coats.
His father bade him be steady, and take care that Billy didn't rush
at his fences.
5




__I __ __ _~__I ~----~-------~--1IYTU




































































O




~L ~--















































6 Kingie in the Hunting Field


<2





THE BADGER. 7

Kingie, with glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes, says, "All
right, father;" and then comes a cry of "Gone away !" and off they
all go at their best
paces. Kingie keeps
Billy Button well to-
gether, and they pass
over a fence into a
ploughed field, and
over another on to h
grass; through this
meadow runs a little B
brook, which Kingie
clears in grand style es
sitting well back, and
lifting his pony over -
famously. Then on .
they go again, the
hounds not very far ahead, to Kingie's great joy, as he hopes to be
in at the death. And so he is too, but not before he has had a spill
-poor little man-which shook him, and Billy Button, not a little
also. Flying madly over a ploughed field with rather too loose a
rein, Master Billy managed to catch his foot in a rut and tumbled,
Kingie coming a regular cropper," as he called it, over his head.



THE BADGER.

T HE Badger is one of the most quiet and harmless of British
animals, but it has been subjected in past times to very cruel
treatment. Some years ago the sport called Badger-baiting was
common in England, and nothing could be more cruel, either to the
dogs that were set to draw him, as it was called, or to himself,





8 THE BADGER.

although he seldom failed to punish his tormentors. For, although
the Badger is as inoffensive an animal as any when let alone, he is
S" a terrible foe where is provoked
,.- -\ to use the means of fence which
Nature has given him.
Unlike most of the Weasel
tribe, to which he bqangs, the
"'Badger is slow and clumsy in its
movements; and is so awkward
in its walk, that in the dusk of
the evening-the time at which it
issues from its burrow-it may
easily be mistaken for a young pig. The Badger is a famous digger,
and is thus able to sink itself into the ground very quickly. The
animal owes this power to the long curved claws on its fore-feet, and
the strong muscles which move them. When the Badger is digging
a burrow it pushes aside the earth with its nose, and then scrapes it
away and flings it as far back as it can with its fore-paws. As this
heap of earth grows larger it hinders the Badger's movements, so he
uses his hinder paws to throw it yet further back. But as it still
goes on increasing, and threatens to block up the tunnel which he is
taking such pains to make, he walks backwards out of the burrow,
pushing the earth as he goes, and so clears it away altogether before
going on any further with his work. When the burrow is finished,
the female Badger makes her nest and rears her young in it. These
are mostly three or four in number. The nest is made of dried grass,
and stored with food consisting of grass balls, rolled up firmly
together, and laid up in a kind of spare room, which serves as a larder.
The Badger's food is of a mixed kind. He will devour snails
and worms, and is a destructive foe to wild bees and wasps, as he
will scrape away the earth which protects them, and eat up honey,
cells, and grubs together, without being deterred by their stings,
which cannot reach him through his thick hair and tough skin.














































1 Badge~~rF an oIng, :9




I-.. -,









THE LITTLE ARTIST.

ORACE'S papa Was an
S.artist, and Horace's
Saunt was an artist too.' Now
e the little boy-who was the
eldest of three, and only six
t years old-used to escape
from the nursery and com-
panionship of his little sister
and brother, in order to sit in
his father's studio and watch
him and his pupils paint.
How wonderful and how delightful it seemed to the child to see the
lovely glowing colours appear, to see soft, lovely flesh tints grow
under his father's brush, and beautiful forms stand out from the
canvas-forms that seemed so real as well as graceful! Horace
would watch his father silently-yet he was perfectly happy--until
mamma would come and run off with her little boy, and persuade
him to go out and play, away from the paint of the studio.
But Horace would find his way back again, and at last he made up
his mind that he must ask Papa to let him try to paint a picture
too. So, going up to him one evening, as he was just starting off t6
bed, he said, Papa, pray let me try to make a picture !"
My little man," said Papa, "you must wait a few years be-
fore you do that; think what a mess you would get in with the
colours."
Horace looked disappointed, and then kind Aunt Totty, who
painted animals in water-colours in a wonderfully clever way, said,
" Suppose Horace begins in a more humble manner, and tries to
paint animals, like I do, in water-colours; and suppose he begins
with crayons."
I0























'Al ------


JI Ir-










































Yh itl 4gt






12 THE WOODPECKER.

Horace brightened up at this, and the next day, Aunt Totty
arrived with a drawing-block and some crayons, and set the little
man to work. He was now content to sit in Mamma's boudbir and
amuse himself by drawing copies of Aunt Totty's pictures, a good
many of which hung upon the walls; then in a little while he deter-
mined to attempt a likeness of Jack, the great big cat, who was such
a sleepy fellow that Horace had no trouble in making him keep still
to have his likeness taken. He just put Jack on Mamma's little five
o'clock tea-table, and sitting down in his own little straw chair,
Horace began the picture. Pussy sang him a loud purring song of
encouragement until he fell sound asleep; and I must tell you that
the sketch was very successful, as I think you can judge from the
illustration on the preceding page.



THE WOODPECKER.

7T HE Woodpecker
takes its name from
its habit of pecking
among the decaying
Swood of trees, so as to
Seed upon the insects that
are to be found therein.
Woodpeckers also chip
-- away the wood to make
\ holes to lay their eggs in.
In order to fit them for
this work, their feet are
very powerful, and their
claws are strong and sharply hooked, so that they can keep a firm
hold of the tree while they work away at the bark or wood with their









































































Woodpecker. 13 I





l,






14 THE WOODPECKER.

bills. And the bird's tail is furnished with stiff and pointed feathers,
which are pressed against the tree, and so form a kind of prop on
which it rests a great part of its weight. The Woodpecker's beak is
Long, strong, and sharp; but something
.. l is still needed to enable it to seize the
.n^ little insects which lurk in tiny holes and
I .* crannies into which its bill could not
i penetrate; and this something is supplied
I';i in its curious long tongue, which has a
'//,I( long pointed horny tip, covered with barbs.
The Woodpecker is found in many parts of
England, but must be looked for in forests
n and woods rather than in orchards and
:g' ". gardens, although it soon finds out places
where it is not disturbed, and will there
take up its abode, nearer our homes. In the woods its movements
may be easily watched by a careful person. The rapid strokes on
the tree, something like the sound of a watchman's rattle, will soon
show where the bird is working; and if the watcher keeps quiet, the
Woodpecker may presently be seen coming very cautiously round
the tree, peering here and there, to make sure the coast is clear, and
then, after a few taps to begin with, it will set busily to work. So
quickly do the blows follow each other, that the bird's head looks as
if it were working on a spring. Chips and bark fly in every direction;
and if the tree should be an old one, whole heaps of bark will be
found at the foot. The tongue may sometimes be seen by the
aid of a glass, but the movement is so quick that it is difficult to
catch.
Although the Woodpeckers were once killed under the idea that
they injured the trees, they are really most useful birds, as they cut
away the decaying wood, as a surgeon does a festering wound, and
eat the hosts of insects which would soon bring the whole tree to
the ground.









"ME" AND MY DOG!

,. UCH a funny little girl as
she was, this little Me;
---- for we gave her that nickname,
S '- -- because it was so very long be-
-~~i'f "i I ore she learned to say "I want
31.' t to go out," or "I want a biscuit,"
Sor I am good." It w.s Me
everything Me is good,"
Me wants to go out," and so
on. Me was quite six years old before she got out of that habit of
saying Me instead of I.
Now when little Me was between three and four, the poor little
trot caught the measles. Two of her bigger sisters had them first,
and Me was kept on a separate floor, and everything was done to try
to prevent her catching them; but catch them she did, and was very
ill indeed with them. And for a long time afterwards Me was weak
and unable even to sit up for more than a few hours every day. It
was while she was still weak-in fact, still a little invalid-that Me
first was happy enough to have her dog.
One day Me was lying on the sofa in her mamma's bed-room,
feeling and looking very tired and listless, when her father came into
the room with something huddled up in his arms. Me's little wan
face brightened up as she cried out, "Oh, Papa! what is it? Me
wants to know."
Now, Me," said Papa, "You must guess what it is."
So little Me's face grew serious, and she puckered her little
forehead with thought. Me guesses a dolly," she cried.
No," said Papa, Me must guess again."
Me now observed that the bundle in her father's arms was moving,
so clapped her hands and declared that "Me guessed it to be a pussy."
'5































1> 'I ~ I
~ I













































































16 "He and My Dog.
~~I
( ~ t






BEARS. 17

Wrong again, Me," said Papa, and then he placed a tiny puppy
upon the little girl's knees.
How delighted Me was! The puppy was very young, and
seemed at that time as if it intended to turn into a pretty dog-which
intention, if it had it, the little creature did not fulfil, for it became
an ugly little animal; but, in spite of its want of beauty, it was most
tenderly loved and cherished by its little mistress, and Me and my
dog" were inseparable. The dog had a name, but Me always talked
of it proudly as my dog," and therefore mistress and dog were
always spoken of as Me and my dog." After a little time Me grew
fat and rosy again, and My dog was no longer a puppy; but the
little creature was as much spoiled as ever, and would sit on the sofa
beside Me, if she happened to have a piece of cake, jealously watching
each mouthful, and fully expecting to have his share of any good thing.



BEARS.

N almost all parts of the world Bears are
found, and are well fitted to live in the
hottest as well as the coldest. They feed
either on flesh or plants, and are generally
very harmless animals when they are not
disturbed, and content themselves with
fruit, honey, nuts, snails, roots, and other
food of that kind. They seldom attack
other animals, except when driven by need
Bears are able to raise themselves on their
hind legs, and can stand upright with the
greatest ease. When attacked at close
quarters they have a way of rearing
themselves upon their hinder feet, and of
2





18 BEARS.

striking terrific blows with their fore-paws, which cause the most
dreadful injuries. The paws of the Bear are armed with long and
sharp claws, which are fearful weapons. If the foe should manage
to keep out of the way of his quick and heavy blows, the Bear tries
to seize him round the body and squeeze him to death by sheer force.
In guarding itself from the blows which are aimed at it, the Bear is
very clever, and will ward off the fiercest strokes with the skill of a
boxer. Few animals are so formidable to the hunter as the Bear,
whether it be the Brown Bear of Northern Europe, the Black or Grizzly
Bear of America, or the Polar Bear of the Arctic regions; and although
a man has been known to conquer a Bear in a hand-to-hand fight,
there are few beasts that a hunter would not sooner meet. They say
in Norway that he has the strength of ten men, and the sense of
twelve. The Bear is a wonderful climber, an excellent swimmer, and a
good digger. He sleeps through the winter-time. During the autumn
he gets very fat on the ample feasts which fall to his share, and then
gets ready to pass the cold months. At about the end of October
the Bear has completed his den, and from that time till the middle of
April he remains in a dull, heavy, sleepy state, and takes no food.
If caught young, the Bear is easily tamed, when he becomes
affectionate and playful. At one time tame Bears were made to
dance and were shown about the streets.
























































Bear and Cubs. 19










ONE FAULT LEADS TO ANOTHER.

S" "/AKE haste, Willy!
SMake haste," cried
0 .'-7 Tom Evans, as he rushed out
,' of the house, we have only five
ii minutes to reach the school-
S\ house in, and shan't we catch it
S if we're late."
t' -: All right," answered Willy,
an obstinate little fellow of nine,
-- "I'm coming; but I must just
give a spin to my new peg-top
first."
"Willy, Willy said his mother, who overheard her little son,
"one thing at a time-school first and peg-top afterwards. Now
run off after Tom at once, like a good boy."
Willy picked up his top, and gathering up his books slung them
over his shoulder, and started off after Tom. But no sooner had
Master Willy got out of sight of his own home, than down went his
slate on the ground, and out came his peg-top, and Willy set to work
to spin his top, utterly regardless of the precious five minutes which,
now long past, ought to have seen him into school.
When Willy had spun his top half a dozen times or so, he
thought about school, and after a moment's consideration, determined
to make his appearance there, late as it was; so picking up his slate,
and hiding his top in his satchel, he marched on till he came to the
school, and quietly walked in.
How is it you are so late ?" said the Master, looking very severe.
Willy hesitated for just half a second, then looking up in the
master's face, this bad little boy answered, Please, sir, baby fell down-
stairs and hurt himself, and my mother made me run for the doctor."
20






























































One Fault leads to Another.






22 THE HOUSE-MARTIN

See how terribly one fault leads to another I If Willy had only
obeyed his mother, and put by his top until after school, all would
have been right. But an act of disobedience led to telling a lie.
Tom looked up as he heard his brother speaking to the master,
and coloured. After school, as he was walking back home with
Willy, he was very angry, and said, I am ashamed to call you my
brother, Willy, now."
Willy answered, "Well, I should have been caned if I had told
the truth."
Tom shook his head as he wisely said, It will be best for you,
Willy, if you don't get off the caning now." However, of course,
Tom was not going to tell; but in the evening, the Schoolmaster-
who suspected something-called on Willy's mother, and soon found
out how matters were, and Master Willy got rather more of a caning
than he would have had if he had spoken the truth.



THE HOUSE-MARTIN.

T HE pretty little House-
I Martin is found in all
parts of England. It is very
like the swallow, but may be
easily known from that bird
by the large patch of white
feathers just above its tail.
This is a very striking mark;
and often when the Martins
are flying about in the dusk
at so late an hour that they
can scarcely be seen, their
presence is shown by the well-known white patches on their backs,

























































House-Martins and Nests.






24 THE HOUSE-MARTIN.

which look strangely like white moths or butterflies darting through
the air. The House-Martin places its nest, which is built of clay,
mostly under the shelter of human dwellings, and becomes so trust-
ful and fearless, that it will often fix it close to a window, and will
rear its young without at all minding the folks inside being so close.
The Martin sometimes seems to be rather whimsical in its choice of
an abode. The bird will often take a great fancy to one side of a
house, and will stick whole rows of nests under the eaves, and will
neglect the other sides altogether, although they seem to be just as
well suited for the purpose. When they have attached themselves
to a spot, they keep to it, and do not like any change. A gentleman
who found that some Martins were building under his eaves, and
wished to encourage them, placed a kind of verandah along the side,
thinking this would be very nice for them. But the little birds did
not see it;" and saying to themselves, "Why couldn't he let well
alone?" left the nests that they had begun, and never came back
to the house again.
Martins' nests vary very much in shape and size, and no two
are quite alike. They are mostly cup-shaped; the rim being closely
pressed against the eaves of a
House, with a small half-round
hole at the edge to let them in
L_ and out. But sometimes the
nest is supported on a kind of
pillar, made also of mud.
The Martin feeds on flies,
gnats, and other insects. It is
only a visitor to this country,
and is seldom seen here before
the middle of April, leaving
us for warmer climes in
October, when it collects to-
gether in flocks several days before starting.









DUKE AND THE DONKEY.

S'HEN I was a little girl I had a
S donkey and a little donkey-
Scarriage of my own. The carriage was
made of wicker-work, white, picked out
with blue, and with pretty blue wheels.
SJack, my donkey, was well fed and
S groomed, and had a handsome set of
harness, with bells which jingled merrily
as he trotted along. He was the fleetest and the most gentle donkey
in the world.
Now, my father had at this time a splendid dark-chestnut horse,
called Duke. This horse was everything that a horse ought to be in
the saddle, and was docile enough in the stable and to all the people
about the place; but he used to be very unkind to my dear donkey
Jack. The horse and
donkey used to be turned
out sometimes into a
paddock at the back of
our house; and the nur- .
sery window overlooked
the paddock, so I knew
how badly poor Jack was '
treated by the horse, for
I often saw Duke kick
his companion if he came
to graze near him.
One day I had walked -2
to the village with my
governess, and as we
returned over the fields we passed close by the paddock where
25




























































2 Duke and the Donkey.






THE HARE. 27

Duke and the donkey were turned out; so I stopped to pat them
and feed them with some clover I had picked. They both came to
the paling to meet me, but Duke pushed poor Jack out of the way
and gave him a sharp kick as well. Jack went quietly off to the
other end of the field, and my governess and I went round and
entered the house. When I was in the nursery I looked out of the
window, and there saw Duke rolling on his back thoroughly enjoying
himself. I remember I thought what a great big creature he looked.
Presently, while I was watching him, I saw Jack, who had been
grazing at the other end of the field, gallop to the great big horse,
and seizing him by the throat, hold him down. In vain Duke
kicked and struggled: for once the donkey had the advantage; and
if the coachman had not run out to the rescue of the horse he would
probably have been killed. You see Jack was not so good-natured
as we thought, but took his revenge when he could get it.



THE HARE.

SHE Hare has always been
.". thought a timid animal; so
Much so, indeed, that the Latin
.' ". word timidus has been given to the
S'species, and we often hear of "the
S" timid Hare." But Mr. Wood says
.... that it is not at all wanting in
S' courage when fairly matched. And
another well-known writer points out that we are unjust in calling it
cowardly or timid, because it runs away when it is hunted. Half a
hundred horsemen and a pack of yelping dogs join in chasing a poor
little defenceless Hare, and then call it timid for running away!
Why, there is hardly any animal-from the elephant and the lion






























































28 Hare and Young.






THE HARE. 29

downwards-that would not do the same in such a case: and it is,
therefore, very unfair, say these writers, to brand the Hare as a












coward because it does not try to fight a field of horsemen and a
pack of hounds. A countryman had caught a young Hare, or Leveret,
as it is called, and was just going to mark it by notching its ears,
when he was interrupted by the mother Hare, who flew at him with
great courage, and struck him so fiercely as to tear his hands severely.
Finding, however, that she could not make him release her young
one, instead of running away she stood within a few feet of her foe,
and waited patiently until he had let the little Hare go, when she
went off with it. Indeed, the Hare is a fighting animal, and will
wage the most savage battles with those of its own kind.
The Hare's long and powerful hind-legs enable it to cover a large
space of ground at every leap. The hinder limbs are, indeed, so large
in proportion to the others that the animal does not walk, but moves
along in a series of hops and jumps.
The Hare is a very cunning animal, and is said by many even to
beat the fox in this respect, as it will resort to all sorts of crafty tricks
to baffle the hounds. It does not live in burrows, like the rabbit, but
merely makes a shallow place in the ground, in which it lies so flatly
pressed to the earth that it can scarcely be distinguished from the
soil and dried grass around. This hollow is called a form.









TOO GOOD AN AIM.

iT HREE boys were on their way to
school-Tom, Harry, and Edwin.
Tom was a freckled, red-haired boy-
rough and rude, fond of teasing smaller
boys, fond of hunting animals and birds
-in fact, that most horrid of boys, a
bully. Harry was more humane; but
he was a coward, for he would see small
boys and helpless creatures tormented
and tortured without interfering, be-
cause he was afraid of being hurt him-
self. Edwin was the youngest boy of
V the three, but he was a good-hearted
and plucky little fellow, and often got
a hard blow from Tom for standing up
for any creature weaker than himself.
As they went to school on this chill autumn morning, they could
see the birds sitting shivering on the bare branches of the trees. The
poor little things were feeling a foretaste of the coming winter, and
thinking how sad for them it was that summer was gone. Tom cast
his evil eye in their direction, and exclaimed, I say, what a lark it
would be to bring some of those birds down. I bet I 'd knock one
off his perch in three throws."
I bet you wouldn't," said Harry; "and we haven't time for you
to try, so come along-we shall be late getting to school as it is," and
he began running.
Tom picked up a big stone, and was just going to throw it, when
Edwin caught hold of his arm, and said, "You shan't try to kill
the birds; how stupid, as well as cruel of you! What good would
it do you to knock-one down? I won't see you do it."
30




























Jorr








































TG A3






Too Good anAim. 31g





32 TOO GOOD AN AIM.

Tom gave Edwin a blow, and said, "Come on, Preacher, if you
don't wish to see me do it, turn your head
another way, Miss Tenderheart;" and, so
saying, he flung the stone at a beautiful
SThrush that was perched on a lower branch
of a tree which grew by the roadside. Alas I
She took too good an aim. The very first
stone he threw knocked the life out of the
bird. There it lay on its back quite dead,
S for the stone had broken. its back. Tom
gave a whistle and set off running, followed
by Harry; but Edwin remained looking with a troubled face upon
the poor dead bird. How sorry he felt about it, and how angry with
the vicious boy who had caused the mischief! He followed the
others to school, with a weight at his heart; and during the day he
fought with Tom, and although he was the smaller boy, he managed
to thrash him.
Now the master was very angry whenever he found that any of
his boys had been fighting; and both Tom and Edwin would have
been punished alike, for Edwin, although tender-hearted, was no
"sneak," and would not tell
of Tom's cruelty.
But old Goody Brown,
who kept the village shop, "
had seen and heard all, and :
came in just in time to ex-
plain matters. So Edwin
was forgiven, and Tom was .-
let off with a scolding; but
I think he would not have
escaped so easily if the master
could have seen the other poor Thrush grieving over the body of
his dead mate









7


















































3 Thrush Mourning over his Dead Mate. 33
C.--J



t~i!










THE DIPPER.

T,, HE little Dipper, or Water-Ousel,
is well known on our river banks.
; ".* It always frequents rapid streams and
channels, and as it is a very shy bird, it
chooses those spots where the banks
.. overhang the water, and are covered with
--- thick brushwood. All the Dipper's
movements are quick and jerky, like the
wren's-the more so as it is always flirting its tiny bit of a tail. Caring
nothing for frost and cold, so long as the water is free from ice, the
Dipper may be seen all through the winter, flitting from stone to stone
with the liveliest gestures, stopping now and then to pick up some
morsel of food, and ever and again taking to the water, where it
sometimes dives quite out of sight, and at other times merely walks
into the shallows, where it flaps about with great rapidity. Its food
consists chiefly of water-beetles and other insects. Its flight is rather
swift, though low; and if disturbed it flies quickly along the course
of the stream, always keeping under the shelter of the banks. The
song of the Dipper is lively and cheerful, and is mostly uttered on
bright frosty mornings. Sometimes it will stand upon a stone while
singing, and accompany its song with the oddest gestures, hopping
and skipping about, and twisting its head in every direction, just as
if it were acting for the amusement of any one that may chance to be
looking on.
The nest of the Dipper is not unlike that of the wren, being made
chiefly of mosses built into the shape of a dome, with a single opening
in the side. It is mostly placed near the water, and always under
some sort of cover, usually a hole in the bank. A nest has been so
placed that a little rivulet actually overshot the entrance, sq that the
Dipper was forced to pass under the falling water to get in and out!
34













'4ai-,. -A' .




7"









. Dz.er and Vest. 3.














Dipper and Nest.









BOXER'S MISTAKE.

L ITTLE May Wyndham was beginning to feel
very tired of her lessons one fine March
morning, and she was as glad as a little girl could
well be when her Governess said, Now, May, dear,
we will put away the lesson-books, and go for a run
in the garden before dinner."
May hurried off to put on her hat, and she,
Miss Miller, and Boxer-May's very own pet dog-
_-_- were soon out in the large garden belonging to
May's country home. Miss Miller was young and
full of fun, and enjoyed a game as much as either of her companions.
Presently Boxer gave a sharp bark and rushed off, as fast as his
active legs could take him, towards a hedge which divided the part
of the garden they were in from a meadow. The hedge was thick,
although not very green as yet. May ran after her dog, and just got
up in time to see him force his way through the hedge and attack
something red on the other side. She had scarcely time to wonder
what it was, when she heard a child scream. Miss Miller ran to the
spot, and calling Boxer to heel, she discovered-on looking over the
hedge-a poor little girl, wearing a scarlet petti-
coat, who was crying very bitterly. Master
Boxer got a whipping from his little mistress
when she discovered that the poor little girl's
petticoat was torn by him. May called the child
into the garden, through a gate which led from
the meadow, and gave her a shilling she had in
her pocket. The little girl then said that she .
was on her way to the house to ask help for her
mother, who was lying ill in the village.
May went to her mamma with the child, and said, "Fancy,.
36


















































oxer's Mistake. 37







.Boxer's Mistake. 37






38 SLIDING.

Mamma! what a mistake Boxer made; he must have thought her
petticoat was a fox! "
The child and her mother, and her little brother as well, received
so much kindness from May's mamma, that I am quite sure-in spite
of the torn petticoat-they never regretted Boxer's mistake.










-r-














SLIDING.

LET'S have a slide, Now a good run,
Haven't you tried? That 's well done;
You must mind not to fall; Plump we go into them all.
Havent youtriz Tht' we.1 dn;..,
Uou mst mid no to fll; lump e g .i--_- 'hmal





























































Sliding. 39









ELEPHANTS.

_'' T, HERE are two kinds of
SElephant, the Asiatic and
the African. The Elephant
with its young one, in the pic-
ture, is an Asiatic Elephant.
iThe Elephant, whether Asiatic
or African, always lives in
Sherds, varying in numbers.
These herds are always found
y '. in or near the deepest forests.
S Both kinds are fond of water,
and are never found very far
from a stream or fountain, although they will sometimes go a long
way to get a supply. They have a curious power of laying up a
store of water in their insides, somewhat like the camel does, but
have also the strange gift of drawing it from their stomachs and
showering it over their backs
to cool themselves. --
At Surat there was a tailor '-",irI'' I
who worked in a shed close ,
to the place to which the Ele- i
phants were taken every day
to drink. This man struck up IA
a friendship with one of the
largest of them, and would
give him fruits or cakes -A
whenever he passed. So the
Elephant got into the way of
putting in his trunk at the
window, and taking whatever his friend chose to give him. But one
40






























"I v































phan andYoun. 43





Indin El






42 A BOAT RACE.

day the tailor happened to be in rather an ill-humour, and when the
Elephant presented his trunk as usual, instead of giving him some-
thing to eat, he pricked him with his needle. The Elephant drew
back his trunk and passed on quietly; but, after he had quenched his
thirst, he filled his trunk with the dirtiest water he could find, and
on his.way back discharged it full in the tailor's face, and drenched
him through.
A story is told of another Elephant whose driver, just to save
trouble, broke a cocoa-nut over his skull. This Elephant, like the
other, took no notice at the time, but did not forget. A week or two
afterwards they were again going through the town, and as they passed
a fruit-stall the Elephant snatched up some cocoa-nuts with his trunk,
and swung them round with terrible force on the driver's head,
cracking the nuts and the man's skull at the same time.



A BOAT RACE.

ACK, and George, and Arthur
S were great friends-or chums
-as the schoolboys would
Isay. Jack and George were the
Si. sons of Squire Beckwith of Pent-
''f -. ley Manor, and Arthur was the
: only son of the Rector of Pentley.
S--' The three boys went to the same
School, and during the holidays
spent much of their time together.
One glorious afternoon late in the
c_: .-- Midsummer holidays, Jack and
George came down to the Rectory
and called for Arthur to go down



























































A Boat Race. 43







44 A BOAT RACE.

to the river to swim their boats. They each had a cutter much of
the same size, and the three boys had determined to race them.
Jack Beckwith was a good-tempered-looking, fair-haired boy of
twelve; George was a mischievous little urchin of ten, with curling
hair; and Arthur was a plain-faced, but good little fellow of about
eleven. Jack's boat was called "The Falcon," Arthur's "The Snake,"
and George had given his the very ugly name of The Emetic," after
a yacht belonging to one of his uncles. Jack was good-tempered-
looking, but, alas! he was somewhat hasty, and had contracted the
disagreeable schoolboy way of bullying or sternly dictating to his
little brother; and George, who was high-spirited, did not knock
under as much as perhaps would have been wise.
The three boys soon got down to the river-side. The boats made
a good start, "The Emetic" leading, "The Falcon" second, and "The
Snake" last. George, in his excitement at seeing his boat leading,
tucked up his trousers and rushed into the water, fanning the little
cutter with his straw hat as if to encourage it on its way, while Arthur
beckoned on his boat as if to hasten it in that manner. At first Jack
laughed at the other two boys for their
efforts, but presently, finding that "The
Falcon" was losing, he grew annoyed, and
told Georgie to come out of the water, in
a very cross voice.
For answer, impudent little George
sprinkled him well, whereupon Jack
rushed at him to give him a thrashing,
and George stepping quickly aside, fell
head over heels into the river; in doing
this he unluckily swamped his own boat, breaking off the masts as
he fell. The river was shallow, and Jack could swim, so the accident
was not so bad as it might have been. But it taught him not to
lose his temper so easily again.









THE WOODPIGEON AND THE STOCK-DOVE.

T HE Woodpigeon is also
Called by the names of
s Ringdove and Cushat. It is
one of the commonest of
British birds, and may be
known by the white ring
round its neck, from which it
takes the former name. It
breeds in almost every little
copse or tuft of trees, and
lives in great numbers in our forest grounds. Its soft gentle cooing
is heard in every direction; and with a very slight search its nest
may be found. It is a strange nest, though, and hardly deserves the
name, as it is nothing more than a mere stage of sticks resting on
the fork of a bough, and placed so loosely across each other, that
when the mother-bird is away, the light may sometimes be seen
through the openings, and the form of the eggs made out. The
Ringdove generally chooses a rather lofty branch for its nest; but it
sometimes builds very low, as nests have been found in a hedge, only
a few feet from the ground. The eggs are never more than two in
number, and are quite white-something
like small hens' eggs, only more evenly
rounded at the ends. The young birds
are plentifully fed from the crops of the
old ones, and soon grow very fat; so that
just before they are able to fly they are
looked upon as delicacies for the table.
Even when full-grown, the Ringdove is
a favourite article of food, and the birds are shot by hundreds when
they flock together in the cold weather. They are very partial to
45














~\ *7r~i~i












% I\













































-46 Wood Pigeons and 2Nest.






GERTRUDE'S EXERCISE BOOK. 47

certain roosting-places, and may be easily shot, if the sportsman waits
under the trees to which they have taken
a fancy. The food of the Ringdove con-
sists of grain and seeds of various kinds,
with the green blades of corn, and the. .
leaves of turnips, and clover, and other .__
plants. Indeed, although it looks quiet and
harmless, the Ringdove is a great eater.
and can devour large quantities of food.
The Stock-Dove is another kind of
pigeon which is found in our woods. It ..'. .
takes its name from its habit of building
its nest in the stocks or stumps of trees,
in which it will find some hollow place
suited to the purpose. The voice of the
Stock-dove is a curious kind of hollow
grumbling note, quite unlike the cooing of the Woodpigeon.



GERTRUDE'S EXERCISE BOOK.

G ERTRUDE'S go-verness gave
her a good many, and rather
i difficult, lessons. Gertrude, I must
p. tell you, was a very intelligent little
S' girl of ten years old, and perfectly
I well able to do all the lessons that
Miss Clements set her. But Ger-
trude was a perverse child, rather
-- spoiled, for she was the only girl,
and not a little conceited.
One morning, at lessons, Gertrude was very tiresome, and Miss











Rk.

































... .





48 ertudes Eercse ook






GERTRUDE'S EXERCISE BOOK. 49

Clements said, Now, you have been so perverse, and have given
me so much trouble this morning, Gertrude, that you must write me
two French exercises this evening, instead of one, and I shall expect
to find them very nicely done to-morrow morning."
Gertrude grew red, but answered, Very well, Miss Clements."
Miss Clements was sitting by the window after tea, and she saw
Gertrude seated at the table, surrounded with her lesson books, and
with her exercise book open before her, busily scribbling away in it.
Miss Clements thought to herself that Gertrude was going to be
very good, and was trying to make up for having been so tiresome;
so, being a tender-hearted person, she said, Gertrude, dear, if you
are very tired, and if your head aches, I will let you off one of the
exercises, for you have several things that you must write this
evening, in order to prepare for to-morrow."
Gertrude looked up, and, with a short little laugh, answered
"Oh! no, I'm not at all tired, Miss Clements; I like writing."
Very well," replied Miss Clements; then in that case you had
better write both exercises."
Gertrude did not answer, but went on busily scribbling, until it
was time for her to go and be dressed for dessert.
She then shut up her books hastily, and putting ,
them away with a self-satisfied air, went out of the ri
school-room.
When she was gone, Miss Clements thought
she would just go and look at Gertrude's exercise to 1I
see how she had done it, when she discovered, to i
her surprise-and very much the reverse of pleasure
-that this naughty child had been writing a story "/
of her own invention, called, "The Disagreeable
Governess !" instead of an exercise. Miss Clements quietly tore out
the leaves, and the next morning made Gertrude begin copying all
her exercises into a new book; and this she had to do out of lesson
hours until they were all copied. I think it served her right.
4









THE PIG.

S.. E are apt to give
the Pig a bad
Same, and call him
S. dirty, greedy, and
i; r stupid; but although
Si he is a large eater, he is
really no more of a
S glutton than many
Other animals. In its
wild state, the Hog is
p h t never found overloaded
Switch fat, and is so active
an animal, that it can
beat a horse in speed, and endure a long chase. Nor is it naturally
dirty; for in its native woods it is as clean as any other wild animal.
But when it is confined in a narrow sty, it has no choice, but is forced
to live in a constant state of filth. And as for being stupid, its senses
are very sharp, and it may be taught to do all sorts of things, as all of
you who have seen the performances of a "Learned Pig" must know.
Hogs in a forest, feeding upon the fallen acorns, have a very
different look from what they have in a sty. Running about among
the underwood makes their bristly hides glitter like silver; and they
have often a very picturesque appearance when seen beside the stems
of huge trees, or breaking the deep green background with patches
of light. The poet Bloomfield, in The Farmer's Boy," has given a
fine description of them starting off at the rising of a wild duck from
a pool-how the whole herd sets off grunting, and running as if for
their very lives, through "sedges, and rushes, and reeds, and dangling
thickets." Those who live on the borders of forests claim the right
of turning out their Hogs to eat the "mast," as the acorns and buck-
50

























!IIt

















Sow and young. 51I






52 SPRINKLING PATIENCE.

nuts are called; and this custom dates as far back as the time of the
Saxons--for in Doomsday
SBook, which was compiled by
S::.O"" order of William the Con-
queror, we find recorded the
number of Swine which were
kept in the different forests
during autumn. In former
.days, and even to a somewhat
S recent period, the Hog in its
wild state was common in England. In the olden time, the chase
of the Wild Boar was a favourite sport of the nobles, and the
animal was protected by cruel forest laws. The Boar was usually
killed with the spear, but the net or the arrow was sometimes used
to destroy him.
At the present time, the wild Swine have ceased from out of
England; but traces of the old wild Boars are still to be found in
the forest pigs of Hampshire, with their high crests, broad shoulders,
and thick bristling manes.



SPRINKLING PATIENCE.

OH Pussy, I don't think you're hungry,
So don't, dear, be foolish and mew,
Besides you must learn to be patient,
Or I shan't think the better of you.
I know you feel cold, Pussy darling,
That the ground is all covered with snow,
That you find bread and milk very warming,
And think it will comfort you so.




















































- - - -










---

































MEE









Sprintkling Patience. 53






54 SPRINKLING PATIENCE.

Now, Pussy, you're sitting quite quiet,
Like a good, nice, and well-behaved cat,
So perhaps I will give you a little,
Now, Pussy dear, just think of that.


But you know I must eat some myself first,
And, see, it is all smoking hot!
So you know we must both wait a little,
Puss, whether we like it or not.

Perhaps if we sprinkle some patience:
Now, Pussy, you lend me your paw,
And we'll both sprinkle patience together;
But, Pussy, don't stick out your claw.


Mamma taught me sprinkling patience,
Don't you think it's a very good plan?
I think I shall always adopt it,
Even when I am grown up a man.










iN
-iu























THE KINGFISHER.

T HE common Kingfisher is found in most parts of England, and
is by far the richest in colour of all our native birds. There is
scarcely anything more beautiful than the glitter of its plumage as it
shoots along the banks of the river, or darts into the water after its
prey. Its flight is so swift, and it moves its short wings so rapidly,
that as it passes through the air its shape is almost lost, and it merely
strikes the eye as a blue streak of light. This straight arrowy course
is the one the Kingfisher usually takes, but sometimes the birds will
get very playful, and have a game with each other in the air, turning
and wheeling with great skill as they chase or dodge each other in
their play. The food of the Kingfisher consists chiefly, but not
entirely, of fish. It usually seats itself on some handy bough or
rail that overhangs a stream, and waits patiently until it sees some
unlucky minnow or stickleback pass beneath, and then, with a rapid
movement, drops down like a stone and seizes it. If the fish should
be a small one, he swallows it at once, but if it should be rather a
55


















10 "
.--. '









:6 K
;J ,

h' rtk ,




Kingfishe and Young.






HOW ELLA WON POLLY'S HEART. 57

large one, the Kingfisher carries it to a stone or stump, beats it two
or three times against it, and then swallows
it without any trouble; although sometimes,
when he is too greedy, and tries to swallow BL
a fish that is too big for him, he gets choked.
The Kingfisher generally feeds its young
with fish, but it is also known to eat various
insects, such as dragon-flies and water
beetles. Its nest is made in some handy ----- :- --
bank, at the mouth of a hole that has been
bored by a water-rat or some other little mining animal, and enlarged
and fitted by the Kingfisher for its own use. Now and then the nest
has been found in a deserted rabbit warren, and sometimes it is placed
in the natural hollow formed by the roots of trees growing at the
water's edge. The young birds are very clamorous for food, and their
cries may be heard for some distance.



HOW ELLA WON POLLY'S HEART.

E LLA was a little girl who lived all alone
with her mamma in a little cottage in the
country. Ella had no brothers or sisters, and
Ella's papa was the captain of a great ship, and
had been away since before Ella could remember
anything. However, one day a letter came to
i Ella's mamma bringing the good news that the
Sbig ship was on its way home, and dear papa
would arrive at the cottage almost as soon as
his letter. He said in the letter that he was bringing home a pet for
little Ella, a very amusing and talkative companion for his little girl,
and he hoped they would be good friends.




















till









101

















































58 NoHow Ella weon Polly's Reart.






HOW ELLA WON POLLY'S HEART. 59

In less than a week after the arrival of the letter, Ella's papa
arrived; and what a delightful evening that was, when Ella saw her
father for the first time, that
she could remember. It had ""
been a lovely day, the air was
loaded with sweet summer
smells, Mamma and Ella had
picked the best roses and placed :
them in vases about the rooms,
they had gathered the best fruit,
and had done all that was pos-
sible to beautify the little cottage -
and make it gay. How they '
listened forthesoundsof wheels!
At last the wheels were really to be heard, they stopped-and in a
few minutes little Ella found herself in the arms of a broad-
shouldered and very sun-burnt gentleman.
How wonderful it was that the little cottage managed to hold
all the luggage! yet it did, though, and easily, for it appeared as neat
and comfortable as ever after all the things were stowed away. The
only thing that appeared strange was the parrot's large cage. This
parrot was the pet that Ella's papa had mentioned in his letter. He
was very tame with Ella's mamma, and seemed to love his master
very dearly, for he walked all over him making chuckling noises
expressive of pleasure; but he did not seem to like poor little Ella a
bit: he made an ugly face at her with his beak, and made his eyes
turn quite white when she came near, and even gave a peck at her.
However, Ella was determined to win his heart, so she got a plate,
nearly full of cherries, and boldly walked up to Polly with it. The
cage door was open and Polly came half out, and in the greediest
way possible eat up one cherry after the other, till there were none
left. Polly's heart was quite won: from that evening she was tame
and loving to Ella, more so even than to anyone else.















.. -- -
: _, -_. *- -. .













THE BEAVER.
T HE Beaver is a very wonderful animal, which lives in societies
that construct works with the skill of engineers. It is
chiefly found in North America, but in days long past the Beaver
built its houses in our own rivers. The houses of the Beaver are
made of mud, stones, and sticks. They are placed in a stream, and
the entrance to them is always below the water. As a severe frost
would freeze up these doors, the stream must be made so deep as to
prevent the frost from reaching them; so the Beaver actually sets to
work to build a dam across the river to keep back the water till it
gets deep enough for its purpose. This dam is made of branches,
which the Beaver cuts down with its sharp teeth, and mud and
stones worked in among them. The Beavers throw these branches
into the water, and keep them in their place at the bottom by heaping
stones and mud upon them, till a strong dyke is soon formed. As
many Beavers liv to~ her in one society, a dam does not take very
long to make. joint efforts they quickly fell even large
trees, by gnawing e round the trunk; and always take care to
60




















































4ad



7Beaver and Young. 6






62 KINGIE AND ETHEL.

make them fall towards the water, so that they may transport them
without much trouble. So that their pond may not get too deep
they leave an opening in the dam to let off the water when it rises
above a certain height. The Beavers cut most of their wood in
summer, taking care to choose trees above their houses, so that the
stream may float them down to them. They also lay up stores of
food for the winter by sinking a number of green branches near the
doors of their houses, where they are held firm by stones laid on the
top. During the severe winter the Beavers' houses freeze quite hard,
and prevent their great enemy, the wolverine, from breaking through
and devouring them. Every year they lay a fresh coating of mud
on the walls, so that after a few years they become several feet thick.
Many of the houses are built close together, but so that one Beaver
cannot visit another without diving below the walls. Beavers are
splendid swimmers and divers, but bad walkers.



KINGIE AND ETHEL.

I TOLD you the
other day about
mylittle friend Kingie.
Now I must tell you
that sook after Kingie
found out the delights
of riding, his favourite
sister Ethel, who was
two or three years
older than Kingie,
S-wanted very much to
ride and see a little
friend of hers, who lived about five or six miles off.

























13,
i~-~ -~--- go-,I
--WOM


7oa


1N









k,





V, 4'





Ir . .

Kinge an Ethl 6






54 KINGIE AND ETHEL.

Oh! said little Ethel, "how I wish I could ride over to ask
Lily Andrews if she can come to the picnic on my birthday."
"Well, why don't you ride?" asked Kingie.
For a very good reason," answered Ethel,
because I've no one to ride with me."
"- "I will go, if you like," said Kingie, and if
Mamma will let us. You go and ask."
SOff went Ethel, and presently returned to
,y the schoolroom with a beaming face, to say that
\0., : Mother said yes, we may go."
\ -\ Then away ran Kingie round to the stable.
When he arrived there he was much disap-
pointed.to find that his pony, Sugar, was gone
to be shod.
"Well, Master Kingie," said the old coachman, "you see there's
Miss Kate's pony, Billy Button, as you can have, if so be as your
not afraid to ride him; but he do shy at times, he do, and maybe he
might have ye off."
However, Kingie persuaded the coachman to let him have his
sister Kate's pony-for Kate was staying away, and would not want
him herself; and Billy Button and Dainty, Ethel's pony, were soon
at the door ready to be mounted.
Away rode the merry little couple, Billy Button behaving ex-
tremely well. They had a splendid gallop over a common, and then
as they neared the village they quieted down into a more sober pace.
Billy Button had behaved so well during the ride, that Kingie
thought he had been given a worse character than he deserved; but
just before they entered the village street, they found a large branch
had been blown off one of the trees into the road, and Master Billy
would not pass it. He swerved, he reared and turned, but Kingie
kept his seat, and at last conquered the pony, for he made him pass
the bough, and he did not shy again that day.
THE END.


4




b
/i. -;....
I; ii i i










University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs