Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Wee girls and boys
 Midsummer holidays
 Maple and her bantam
 Back Cover
 Back Matter

Title: Sunshine
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00055392/00001
 Material Information
Title: Sunshine
Alternate Title: Sun shine for little children
Physical Description: 48, 2 p. : ill. (some col.) ; 35 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Humphrey, Maud, b. 1868 ( Illustrator )
Buhler, A ( Illustrator )
Tucker, E. S ( Illustrator )
Merrill, Frank T ( Frank Thayer ), b. 1848 ( Illustrator )
Sunshine Publishing Company ( Publisher )
Dover Clothing Co
Publisher: Sunshine Publishing Company
Place of Publication: Philadelphia
Publication Date: c1887
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Play -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Pets -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Country life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1887   ( lcsh )
Books printed as advertisements -- 1887   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1887
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Books printed as advertisements   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Pennsylvania -- Philadelphia
General Note: Cover title.
General Note: Some illustrations by Maud Humphrey, A. Buhler, E.S. Tucker, and F.T. Merrill.
General Note: "This little book is presented to the young people, with the best wishes of the Dover Clothing Co."--preface.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00055392
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 - 002223570
notis - ALG3820
oclc - 69665302

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Wee girls and boys
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
    Midsummer holidays
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
    Maple and her bantam
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
    Back Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
Full Text


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T HIS LITTLE BOOK is presented to the Young People, with
the best wishes of the Dover Clothing Co. We believe that
they will find in it, aside from the illustrations, much to interest
them. When you are in need of Suits, Over-coats or Hats for the
Little Folks, there is no place in the world where you can secure
better bargains than at the Dover Clothing Co.'s. Our stock of
Men's and Boys' Suits and Overcoats was never larger than it is
to-day. We believe that our styles are correct, and we know that
our prices are low. We have just added to our stock an elegant
line of Men's and Boys' Hats, Caps and Furs. These goods are
just from the market, all fresh and new styles, no goods out of
date and of questionable value. If you are in need of Fur
Goods, do not purchase until you get our prices. We can save
you from ten to twenty-five per cent. on these goods. Holi-
day Goods are a specialty with us. The Dressing-gowns and
Smoking-jackets which we place on sale this week, are elegant
garments and greatly admired by the Gentlemen. Our recent pur-
chase of Silk Scarfs, Mufflers, Handkerchiefs and Ties, surpasses
anything that we have ever offered. You will find all articles
worn by men and boys, except Boots, at our store.




S, IVED there ever a child not delighted with pretty
; pictures? Pictures are childhood's happiest teach-
S"" ers. Illustrations are the windows through which the
souls of children look at truth, at beauty and at life,
v and the apter the illustration the more lasting the lesson
which is sure to follow. When a bq or story is
S i embellished it becomes a friend, and a book without
K pictures is yery much like a flower without sunlight.
The imagination is quickened by the use of proper
pictures, and the wee little readers or listeners see
S actually what is on the page in store for them-there
S is the cunning cart, with the nannic goats harnessed
1,1P in the traces, and there the merry birds warbling in
S4 the grove; there is the baby picking up the sunbeam
dancing on the floor, and the kitten sitting up and
a'u;'v','.-.-,o ,-neb oy, s
laughing in the bed; there are the boys playing soldiers
i. n the lane, and there the ship caught in the fury of
a midnight storm. Children understand these things


------ -- .- better than we can write them, and remem-
-'---ber by means of pictures what they would
S-- otherwise forget. Paint a scene and it
-tells its own story, or else the picture
- becomes a sweet question, which nothing
but the reading of the narrative can ever
fully answer; and the book has a new
interest when we have made the acquaint-
ance of the ugly and cross old woman with
the crutch, who turns out to be a fairy
S'in disguise and loves little children; and of
--the brave boy who perils his life to save
I --the little girl who has broken through
-- .1 .the ice, and is sinking in the water.

.. ''' "Now, in writing in this book for little
,., folks, I am going to tell you of a little red
,, 'lll, I ,, :v,,, 1 4;!,
'I. school-house that stands on the top of a
S'I .'4; 'V.I .hill, near a beautiful grove. It is so com-
Spletely surrounded by woods that one can
'1 '' '. ',!,'''. '', scarcely see it when the leaves are on
I. 1
the trees. It is a lovely place in summer.
An abundance of wild flowers grow on every side, and plenty of berries can be found
in their season. The children have made seats under
the trees, and have two swings suspended from the
long, spreading branches of an oak. A great many
birds build their nests in the tree-tops, and the squirrels
'-'to'pa a n-., "'1 t :r
leap about among the branches, gathering nuts for their --
winter food. They have become so tame that they -
allow the children to come quite near them before run-
ning away. There is one squirrel that often comes I
into the school-room and runs about on the floor. One
day he came into the robm, jumped on the teacher's


desk, and began to gnaw at an apple which he found there. This pleased the children,
and they watched him instead of studying their books. So the teacher had to drive him
out. He tried to take the apple with him, but when he jumped from the desk it slipped
from him and rolled away on the floor. A moment later he was seen just outside of the
window, eating a nut. He peeped through the glass in a saucy way, and seemed to say: "I
am out of your reach now." The teacher said she did not wish to seem rude to her visitors,
but she did not like to have them disturb her school, or take such liberties with her
desk and apples. In summer, when the windows are open, the birds often fly into the
room. One time two of them came
in together, and seemed determined
to stay, or else did not know how
to get out. The teacher had to get ..., ,..* -
the scholars to help her, and they -"
chased the birds around the room
for a long time before they could

get them out. The children enjoyed
the chase very much, and it gave rit ga
them a nice rest from their studies.
Among the scholars in this
school was quite a little fellow named
Georgie. He would have been a l
nice little boy if he had not been i
so full of mischief. He was not very
old-only six years. But he was
quite old enough to know better.
One summer he spent at the sea-side with his father and mother. He thought it great fun
to run away from his nurse and hide. She would think he was lost and be very much
frightened. One day his nurse came down stairs in great distress. Georgie was nowhere
to bie found. HIe had slipped out of the room when her back was turned. There was a
great excitement in the house. Hi-s mother ran one way, his father another, and his grand-
mother a third. At last they found him up in the cupola of the hotel, delighted at
the commotion he had caused. "Very well," said his father, "since you like this place


_- .so well you can stay here." So
\J -*'"-, he locked the door, and they all
came down and left him there.
He spent a very dull afternoon
there by himself, for his father
did not let him out till tea-time.
SAfter that he did not run away
for some time. But one day he
....j .8 |was gone again. "I can't stand
1^ '^ i h'athis," said his mother; "what shall
we do?" "I know," replied his
fath-r. But he would tell no one a word
Sahl-,s ut it just then. The next time he went
to the_ city on business he brought back a
St slng chain-tr l.n. sunt not heavy. At each end was a leather
SLlt- n- f.li r l Te ..e lai, nd the other for the nurse. Fastened
DI ., ikio t!his -y hi, ctuld n ,t possibly run away. He hated to be
? iLitst.n le ta, his nurse lil k a little monkey. But coaxing and
te(rrs hl no Ih ct i-n his father. He was obliged to wear
.his ch.iin 'lrlii,- \\ cl, After that there was no more trouble.
.,,d h,, "-A burnt chhihl dJr al- the fire, and for many weeks after his
,i[uni-hm~enlt the ilm-r mention of a chain was more than enough
to quiet Georgie. The lesson was severe, but lasting. There
is a wee baby in this household, and when grandpa pays us a visit baby always gets a ride,
and this song is often sung: "When the golden sun goes down, what then?-what then,
baby? Little birdies hide away, all the wee lambs homeward stray; to its lily-home the
bee hums across the dewy lea; baby's eyelids downward creep, baby's last to go to sleep!
Do you know that, baby? When the sun peeps up at morn, what then?-what then,
baby? Little birdies wake and sing, all the wee lambs baa and spring; cow-bells tinkle
o'er the lea; from the lily hums the bee; but, to softly coo and' call, baby wakes the
first of all! Do you know that, baby?" You will find the illustration to go with this song
on page two of our Sunshine, where baby is keeping time to the tune with grandpa's watch.


This is Saturday afternoon, and Alex, the farm-hand, is taking little Gracie out for a
ride. It is a bright day in sunny June. The birds are singing on the branches of the
trees. The flowers are in bloom everywhere, for this is the month of roses. Mamma is
at home-you can see the house quite plainly-and she is getting an early tea for eleven
happy, romping children. It is so warm and pleasant that Gracie goes without a hat.
The ride is delightful. It is a merry party, and baby is as proud and happy as a king.
In fact, no royal king in palace home ever knew the joy that is now filling Gracie's little
heart to overflowing. She is snugly seated in the cart. The goat is very careful.
He is never fast, or balky, or cross. Alex handles the reins splendidly. Charlie leads
with the drum. Arthur follows with trumpet and flag. Bennie pushes and Jennie comes
singing after. Tommy, perched on Rob's shoulders, waves his hat and shouts. Oh, it
is a merry band of glorious play-fellows, and the frolic and the fun are all for baby's sake.


.... ;-_- -

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A iff

,.- -- -':: + ,Pr


One night a comet went whirl-
ing through the sky, and he was
sure that all the stars and the moon
S. would follow him. But he found
himself greatly mistaken. The moon
:. passed him proudly by, and all the
big stars and the little ones looked
-.--:' ^ -- ". '-^ at him in wonder, but they kept
their places in the heavens, and so
') the bold, bright comet had to travel
day and night alone, far beyond the
: milky way; and if you were to ask
: me where he is at this moment, I
could not tell you, but on this page
you have a picture of the brilliant fellow, with the moon and stars \ .Lt l-hin him in his
strange way of taking a journey. A century or so from now we may hear of him again.
Hal owns a little baby bear. It is the cunningest, softest little cub anybody ever
saw. Hal always feeds it himself. He gives it fruit, bread, cake, and a very little meat.
Often he will treat it to a lump of sugar or a bit
of candy. It is very fond of sweet things.. The name '. '
of the cub is Dan. Hal and Dan have a great many ,.' 1 '
grand times together. The little bear loves to play : \
fully as well as Hal does. Sometimes Dan gets up -
a play all by himself. He will carry off a bundle in J
his fore-paws, and have a great time tossing and
hugging it. Hal is teaching Dan to dance. The '.
little bear seems to like it. When Hal takes hold
of Dan's chubby paws and dances slowly, Dan will -
hop around with him. He looks so funny and solemn "' "'
that every one who sees him has to laugh.
On the next page is a bird picture. Edith calls these
little warblers "pilgrims of the air," and a very pretty


name it is, too. Every morning, ;
when the bird-seed is scattered ,l..' ,
on the floor of the conservatory
nearly a hundred birds will come w
flying in for their breakfast. It
is quite charming to see how fearles-
they are, and how they seem to apprtcioat,
the cheerful and tender welcome x hil:h thl,_v .lA\v~,iv
receive from our little friend in the illu-t'rtit", 1 .e
Sometimes there are other visit,,r- n-t ,luite -_
welcome. Edith has a school friend 1.min.l Ni.,g.r,
and I was told this story about him: It w.i '..rin,
and the boy was ready for school, \\liI I h i d h r,
seeing him leave the room, said: "Shut thll,. i.t--
Roger." "Yes, mother;" and Roger swung his bundle of books
over his shoulder, and ran down the garden walk, whistling "Bonnie
Dundee." An hour later mother came again to the front of the house, and,
looking out of the parlor window, what do you think she saw? A sorry
sight indeed, and one that
was well calculated to tax her
.patience to the utmost. She under-
stood at a glance whose fault it was.
Her whistling, careless, loving-hearted
boy had left the garden gate wide
open, and a flock of sheep had got
into her pretty, well-kept garden, and
were feasting on the geraniums and
.,.. % other summer plants with which the
.: beds had been filled only a day or

two before. It was too bad. "Oh,
,' '''' '''' dear!" cried poor mother. "Iere,
,,,Sallie, come quickly and help me


to drive these creatures out! Sallie came at once, and, running down to the gate, met
the man who had charge of the flock. He had left the sheep on the roadside while he
called in at Farmer Ratcliff's with a letter from his master. "They kept me waiting for
the answer, and I suppose the poor beasts
-'- -. strayed on; but, excuse me, ma'am, you
should keep the gate shut." Roger was
S. much astonished when he came home
-- :"<:,s "

to see all the trim beds trampled over, and
.r- 7 the gay flowers broken and destroyed.
""Whatever has .happened, mother? he
.cried. "Somebody left the gate open,"
d said mother, "and a flock of sheep came
asII tin." Oh, how sorry Roger felt i He knew
the latch of the gate had not caught when
he closed it after him; but what did it
S-matter? It would be such a bother to turn
back. And now the cottage garden was laid
Waste, all through his carelessness. Was
not that a pity? It taught Roger, though,
a lesson that he never afterwards forgot.
--2 Somehow or other the above story got
into Sunshine, and Eddie's cousin Lucy,
getting a copy of the book, went out into
the woods to read it. Another story she
found there while sitting on the grass, and that also I will tell you. It is a true story, and
I will call it "Emmy's Night Walk." It was not in the morning with Rover, or in
the afternoon with her dollies, but one summer night, when every one was sound asleep,
even herself. It was a long time ago, and Emmy is now a woman. In those days there
were not so many tramps to break in and steal, away back in the country where she
lived, as there are now. Scarcely a door was ever locked at night. The houses all had
great fire-places in them, large enough for a good-sized boy or girl to walk right into.
They had big brick ovens, in which the mothers cooked all the pies and bread. It was


a warm night. The moonlight came so brightly into the small kitchen that the great,
round heads of the brass andirons shone like little moons. Emmy's mother had been
spinning hard all day. She slept so soundly that she did not hear her little girl go
out. But when she did wake-from Emmy's tilting the tongs, very likely-there stood a
small figure, all in white, away back in the chimney-corner. It was Emmy, with her
clothes all rolled up, and wrapped
nicely in a little bundle, under her
arm-sound asleep. Her hair was
all wet with dew; so were her feet
and night-dress. The door was open,
and how long she had been wan-
dering about by herself out of doors
cannot be told. Her mother put on
a dry night-dress, and carried her to
bed, and Emmy knew nothing at
all about it. Sometime after that
Emmy's father, who is an artist,
thought he would make a picture
of this incident. He did so, and
made two: one of Emmy standing,
as her mother found her, in the
chimney, and the other of Emmy's
little sister, Katie, on her fourth birth-
day. Emmy, a woman grown, is
now living in California, and has
several sweet children of her own.
Katie is the wife of a missionary,
and her home is in Lucknow, India.
But the two pictures still hang on the walls of the old homestead, recalling to
mother and father the long-ago times when the two young girls romped in the meadows
round about the house; and we have put these pictures into Sunshine, well knowing that
many of our readers or their parents will recall with pleasure the story we have told.


Yes, here we are, swinging up in the old oak tree, in the country. We are waiting for
Charlie, a bright little fellow of eight years, who has just gone to the pasture to drive
home the cows and put them safe in the barn-yard. He will have a cup of sweet milk
to pay him for his trouble. Charlie owns a troop of chickens. You ought to see them.
Some are as white as pond-lilies, and some are as black as ink. Grandma Day's house,
l where we are, was something like
_- f 1 a horse-car-always "room for
;g -et one more." As surely as sum-
., mer came around the old house
:filled with children, and merry
r :times they had. You should have
seen the queer tree we found with
SUncle Harry last summer. Of
Small the trees you ever heard of,
this tree bore the most curious
fruit. Said Uncle Harry one morn-
ing: What a fine day this would
be for a trip to the woods! I
!~ ,."..should feel tempted to go, if I
S'could get any one to go with me."
A,,,, fd. e A chorus of voices exclaimed at

once: "I'll go!" "Take me!" and
_"_ Here's your passenger!" "Well,
Swell," said Uncle Harry, "it's most
0,V ,e OLad t make \%u all go." But, as the children said
they "would rather go than not," he said all right,
and they were all ready when Uncle Harry drove up to the door. While they were crowding
into the wagon, nobody noticed that grandma brought from the pantry a large basket, which
Uncle Harry slyly hid under the front seat. The wagon was so full that Mollie thought
it too heavy a load for old "Billy," the horse: so she held a basket and umbrella outside
all the way, to lighten his burden. At last Uncle Harry found a good place to stop at:
so he drove into a shaded lane, where he tied the horse, and helped the children to alight.


They amused themselves for some time gathering wild-flowers, ferns and mosses, stop-
ping now and then to chase a butterfly, or scare a squirrel out of a year's growth;
but, tiring at last, they
sat down under a tree :
to rest. "Oh, dear!" said :
Bessie, "I wish we had
brought something to
eat." And then all the
children, one after an-
other, declared themselves -
as "hungry as bears." -. --
"What a pity!" said t
uncle Harry. "Why .
didn't we think to bring
something to eat? Come '
with me, and I'll show r i
you where you can get a ,
nice drink of water." So,
taking a tin pail in his Nj
hand, he led the way, :"
with all the children fol-
lowing him. All at once .,, .
Freddie exclaimed, "Oh,
oh, look! and every eye h I
was directed to the most
curious sight. What do you suppose it was? Why, it was a tree with cookies hanging on
every limb; and the cookies looked just like those grandma always made. Uncle Harry
began at once to pluck them off, and hand them to the children, who all agreed that the
cookies tasted also "just like grandma's." When they) reached home, they all ran at once
to tell the strange tale to their grandparents, who opened their eyes wider and wider,
and declared, that, old as they were, they had never seen such a tree as that. Uncle Harry
winked his eye at grandma, and said he shouldn't wonder if they found another some day.


,,,,'' ,' ,,' ,' l ,, ,,,," ". 1 ,,

I 'I' I
Sh D I ,
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home. I had one other pet, and that was a cat named Meg. My grandmother had often

told me a story about a bird that was eaten by a cat. I thought I would take good care
I '' q
n e i Di'"ck ,' ouh g f ," 'a h

home."" I had on the pet, and, tha was a cat named Meg. My gn oeh fn

not to let Meg make a meal of Dick. But she looked so innocent that I had not much
fear; and one afternoon, when I went out to make a visit, I forgot to shut the door of
the room where Dick's cage was hung. As soon as I was out of the house, pussy crept
I, .... .. ,,,, 1,

namdimDik.Ibugt ncecagad he s ed v in '

hoe.I.adoet ean n. ,g M .m .

d e a s y a i, ,a eI '

nottolet Megmake a meal of Dick.But,,", 'lohkediso ino"en that I had nt mc h

fear; and one afternoon, when I went out to make a visit, I forgot to shut the door of
the room where Dick's cage was hung. As soon as I was out of the house, pussy crept


slyly down stairs, and went into the room. When I got home I went straight to see
my dear little bird. But what a sight did I behold! There was a broken cage on the
floor; there were a few scattered feathers; I looked out of the window, and in the garden
next to ours I saw Meg
stretched out at full length
on the wall, looking as
innocent as ever, watch-
ing little baby Clara and
Tom, who live next door; -= -- ----- --------- ---- -
but no bird was to be
seen. I burst into tears m en I
at the sight. Mamma
tried to comfort me by
saying that Dick had
flown away; but I felt
sure that Meg had eaten
my pet. I went to bed .
unhappy, and when I
came down stairs early
the next morning, and
looked at the broken,
empty cage, I could. not
help crying again. But,
while we were at break-
fast, a chirp was heard
that sounded like a bird
in the room. I sprang -_
up at once, and looked all
around to see where the
noise came from. In a moment I heard another chirp; then I saw something fluttering
in the middle of one of mamma's hanging-baskets. It was my little pet, safe and well. I
caught him in my hands and cried for joy, and after that I took better care of little Dick.


"Why, he won't go a bit!
What in the world can be the
matter with him?" It was little
Alice who said this. She' was
S-sitting on a donkey in the mid-
dle of a road, between Asbury
Park and Long Branch. The
S donkey was so small that Alice's
straw hat seemed like an Ocean-
Grove tent over him. "I won-
der if big donkeys have any
more won't-go in them than the
little onc ," shouted Frankie, Alice's younger
is Ie r s thicr, andt there was a roguish look in his
e\Ce Gs a~- hIe glanced at his papa, who was just
Sl behind them on another donkey. Frankie's
Sbeast seemed to be stuck in the road, as if he
grew there. "Hold on," cried papa; "Wait till
I come!" He had shut his red sun-umbrella, and was beating his donkey with it. Soon
he came up to the children. You see, it was papa who had treated the little ones to
a donkey-ride. Usually some small boys run behind these animals and encourage them
to go with a club. Papa had -said that he thought his youngsters could manage the
donkeys, and Frankie had backed him up in this assertion. But even one mule can upset
many calculations. Here they all were, over a mile from their hotel, and the donkeys
would not stir an inch. Frankie alighted and cut a thick stick for himself and a lean
stick for Alice. He gave his sister her stick, and then he yelled out: "Halloo! Whoa
there! Get up! Go ahead! I'll give it to you!" This was Frankie all over, and papa
and Alice burst out laughing. The lad's donkey was pulling hard at the end of the bridle.
He would not let his valiant rider get on. The more Frankie pulled and shouted, the more
the donkey backed away. The unruly beast seemed to understand perfectly that he had
only, a boy to deal with. It was indeed a comical sight. When papa finished laughing
he caught Frankie's beast. Then he formed the children and donkeys into a procession.


Alice was first. Then came Frankie, whose duty it was to punch Alice's donkey with
his stick. Papa brought up the rear, flourishing his umbrella and saying quite a number
of large, learned words, which no creature but a donkey could ever interpret or understand.
After awhile papa shouted: "All aboard! Punch, Frankie, punch with care, and the
train will start! And so the train did start. It started quickly. It moved off as though
getting somewhere was the one single aim in life. For a sudden change took place.
The donkeys had their heads turned homeward. That meant supper, a night's lodging,
and no burdens to carry. When they felt the two sticks and the red umbrella, and thoughts
of their cozy stable crowded in on their gentle minds, they just took the bits in their
teeth and started off like mad, at full gallop. You never in your life saw two children
and one father so much astonished. There was no thought of stopping. Frankie and Alice
held on hard, and shouted, "Fire! Help! Papa! Amen!" with all their might. Poor
papa was left far behind. His congregation suddenly left him. He could render no
assistance. His donkey flapped his ears, and the red umbrella waved in the air. But
he could not keep up. Very soon the children vanished from his sight. When the
procession scampered into Asbury Park, and stopped suddenly at their accustomed place
on the beach, the donkey-boys laughed until they rolled
over in the grass. The two chilcn never laugh, at
all. They couldn't see the fun.
When papa arrived, leading his
stubborn steed, and whispering
exhortations in his ear, the three
wended their way to the hotel, i-
not very jolly, but somewhat
wiser than at the beginning of
their donkey-trip. Since that
day Alice and Frankie have had
many a ride, in stages and
buggies and wagons-in fact,
in all sorts of vehicles, but
never have they dared to under-
take another donkey-ride. -


Mamma was delighted to get away with baby from the city, to her aunt's farm in
the country. The green fields, the wild flowers and the fresh breezes were a source of
constant delight to her. She was fond of rambling in the woods or along the banks
of a stream which flowed near to where her aunt lived. And baby seems to enjoy the
country just as much as mamma does, if the pleasant picture on this page means any-
thing at all. It is pleasant to be in the country in the spring. Then the plowman
is in the fields turning up the ground, and whistling as he drives his plow. He is
followed by the sower, who scatters the seed into the furrows. And then comes the man
to harrow the ground and cover the seed with earth, that it may take root and grow. The
buds swell on the trees and the wild flowers peep under the hedges. And it is pleas-
ant also to be in the country in the summer-time. It is then full of life and beauty.
White and red roses are blooming on every side; beds of pinks and groups of lilies
are in full blossom; berries of various kinds are ripe, and cherry trees show their
choicest fruit. It is good to have a ramble in the country in the summer months of the year.

.J. .


0s -. -W01

,I j .. 4. .-
-i ,"


We are told that in June, if ever, come perfect days,
the perfect days of summer. But the golden days of human
life are childhood's happy hours. In the early June days
Sof girlhood and boyhood everything is beautiful to chil-
: f^- t m dren. The commonest days are crimsoned and purpled, and
the long, glad, midsummer holidays are the border-lands of
heaven. The life of a healthy, merry-hearted child is a pano-
Srama of perpetual loveliness. In this issue of Sunshine we
purpose to treat the little folks to a stroll through the woods;
and we trust that our readers will enjoy and appreciate
the country as they turn over some of the pages of
this publication. But before going out of doors we want
to introduce our readers to little Sunbeam. We do not believe you know what we ar
going to write about, though Sunbeam stands all alone as the name. "Yes, yes, we do!"
we hear little voices saying. "Why! we know what sunbeams are; of course we do.
Why, we have seen one' ever so many times, on the carpet, shining brightly." Well,
children, so have we; and sometimes we have stooped to .pick up a sunbeam, thinking
it was something we could touch; but we could never move it. Then we have kissed it.
n~ IDsun~ n~ Ea HoLI ~u*


This is not the kind of sunbeam we are thinking of
now; for our little Sunbeam we have often caught up from
the floor, and hugged and kissed it, till, in return, we
felt our hair pulled rather sharply. "Well, now," you
ask, "what do you mean? What is your little sun-
beam? Is it in heaven or on the earth?" Why, chil-
dren, it is a dear little baby-girl! She has many
Spent names, but we think the sweetest one is Sun-
/ beam; for she is just like a sunbeam, ever shedding
light on all, because she is so good-tempered, and
so full of fun and play, and pretty as a picture. She
is only four years old; but we called her Sunbeam
long before her first birthday. She has bright blue
/r^ "' eyes and flaxen hair; her cheeks are red like roses,
Sand no. one can
.' help kissing
them. But what makes her look most pretty is her
sweet little mouth, which has ever a smile on it;
and this is why we call her Little Sunbeam. We
have just kissed her picture on this page.
Now, children, another question. Have you ever
seen a starbeam? If not I will tell you that when
the sun has gone down of a warm day in summer,
and the moon is not yet up, and the stars are coming
out one by one, if you go into the meadow, or down
the lane, you will see a curious kind of star. This
is the glow-worm. Though it is called so, it is not
a real worm. It is a kind of grub, with a pale fire,
or glow, at the end of its tail. But this is not like VU
the fire that cooks your food and keeps you warm.
It will not burn or give out heat. If you take the
bug in your hand it cannot harm you. It will walk


----- ---- --__ up and down, all over it, and will
cast a glow so that you will be
able to see it very well. What do
you suppose this little glow-worm
carries this funny light for? Why,
Sso that its mate may find it in the
dark, perhaps. It lies at rest all
day, and does not wake up until
.dul,. \h, iin cr iii.-- u:tt at the same time with the bat and the owl.
Ia iII oI rs I\e kan ,1 all about, but there is one little brown
spider, that lives on all our rivers and streams, more singular than any
other. In the fall of the year she builds herself a little boat, or yacht. It will never
upset, let the wind be ever so high. You could not guess what it is made of. Only a
leaf!-bent together with the strong cables the spider can make. Then away she goes,
down the stream, first to one side and then the other. On the voyage the spider catches
small insects on the water, as her tiny boat hurries on with the tide. You cannot see
her unless you look very sharp,
because she is just the color of
the leaf she is on. In the point J c i
of the leaf you would find a -
sort of tent, loosely spun, where .
she often goes. There she has
hidden a precious little silken
ball, filled with very small yel-
low eggs. But she is so quick -
in her movements that before
you know it she is out of sight
and on to the ocean, sailing
away to distant lands. XWhether
she ever gets there, or hides
away until the warm weather ..'
returns again, nobody knows. .


Down at Cape Cod there lived two merry little twin brothers. Very full of fun
and mischief were they, and seldom quiet except when they were asleep. One day
their mamma bought some clams. She was going to have a chowder for supper. For
safe, cool keeping she put her basket of clams on the grass, under a great tree. Johnnie
and Willie stood by, and heard all that their mamma said about it to auntie. They just
looked and heard it all. Their baby faces-for they were only a little over three years
old-were as solemn as good old Deacon Pitts', who said he "didn't see why people
laughed when there was no 'casion.' These two baby-rogues put their bits of plump
little hands into the pockets of their pretty white aprons. When mamma and auntie
went into the house, Nurse Jane sat down on the piazza, to keep an eye on them. They
began to play bo-peep behind the lilac-bushes. When Nurse Jane dropped off to sleep,
as she should not have done, then it was that these two
snmill men turned their thoughts to other matters. First,
ther: \\s a \ild chase after butterflies. Pretty soon they
trotted ,I\\n the \walk to see Mistress Piggy and her three
lazI, 2.1runtin*. children. When the pqgs heard voices, they,
too, piped up, squealing out, as
Johnnie afterwards told his mam-
ma, Give us some! Give us
some! So at that call the laddies
pelted Mistress Piggy and her
little children with tufts of grass.
Straying down the walk for more,
they spied the basket of clams.
In a minute they were dragging
the damp basket over the grass,
tugging away at the heavy load
until their cheeks were scarlet.
Then such a pelting as Mistress
i ,"I'".';' Piggy and her family had! But

i.',, they were wild with the supper.
They crunched and ate until all


the clams were gone. A pile' of shells lay
S"- the trough where their food was usually
put. "They had the chowder," Willie
... ,s.-. aid. Mamma and auntie had no chow-
der that night! I do not know what
'". i t mamma said to her small boys, but I
do know that they went very early to bed.
So-mething very strange happened at our house
Soth,_-r It\. We keep a stove in our sitting-room all
S-,ummIlI. _Sometimes we have to build a fire even in
A\LI:LIst. One afternoon I was surprised to hear a great scratch-
i'/' ing in the room. I found it came from the stove. Scratch,
scratch, as if some creature was trying to get out. I called my boy of eight years.
For a few moments all was still, and we concluded the poor thing had got out as it
had come in. But we were mistaken; soon came that same noise again. We removed
the top of the stove ind peeped in;
nothing was to be seen in the dark- .i
ness. We then made bold to open the
door and poke about; but with no bet-
ter result. Then we decided that the
creature was between the lining and
outside. But how were we to get at
it? We took out the damper and poked
out all the soot and ashes. We brought
to the front-what do you think ? Why,
a little chimney-swallow, chirping and
fluttering, poor thing, with fright. One .
wing seemed to droop a little; so we '
took it up and put it in a box. If we i;
supposed it was going to stay there we .
were much mistaken. Soon the bird
began to recover, and, with a little hop,
began to recover, and, with a little hop, ...,./' "


was upon the edge of the box, cocking its
head and looking with its big, bright eyes
all about, as if on the alert for any new
danger. A tree was the safest place, and
Hervin carried it out and set it gently
down. It rose, feebly at first, then soared
away over the tops of the houses. We were
glad it got away, for that very night we
had to have a fire in the stove.e
It is a glowing morning, and Johnnie, i
with his hook all baited, thinks he will try -
his fortune, before breakfast, in the dashing
brook. Through the crystal water he can -._r i-
see many a speckled trout in the tiny
caverns of the rocks. He throws in his line. It must be a lucky day for fishing, for soon
--/ li he has five shining beauties lying on tloe shore. Home he
trud % ith his spotted prizes, and he looks and feels very
,. \\e .s hen mets his little brother Charlie and tells him what a
(, If,~ jg_,_d timn_ he: has had catching a breakfast. Charlie sees how
it is done, and says: "When I am bigger, won't I catch
Fish, t,_,o? Indeed I will, and bring home some weighing a
-- ": ,pound apiece." And then what a time the two
boys have at the table. What a savory meal
this young fisher shares with the family-waffles,
golden butter, rich brown coffee and mountain
trout. Truly a breakfast fit for a king. And I
say, right here and now, that the lad who can
catch his own breakfast, and earn his own living,
out in the sunshine, with ruddy cheeks and strong,
healthy body, is better than a king, and his cozy,
country home is a palace, his life a great domin-
ion, and he the heir of a future full of promise.


Frequently there has to be a change of programme on account of the weather. One
evening we had planned for a lawn party, to come off the next morning, and had gone
to bed filled with bright anticipations of the morrow. The morning came, but in the
night a storm had risen, and the rain was coming down, pitter, patter, in a steady, persistent
kind of way, which made not only the little folks feel badly, but even Bose, our four-footed
friend, and here we have three at the window looking out anxiously for a bit of blue

sky. But for one day of rain we had a dozen days of sunshine, and when kept indoors
we never failed to be busy and glad. We played the piano and sang songs. We had
games and danced merrily. We blew soap bubbles and told stories; and then mamma
never ran out of strawberries and cream, and cakes and apples, and so with these our
rainy days were not so much of an affliction to us after all. And then the house was
filled with children's books, and these books were filled with charming and delightful
stories and beautiful illustrations, and many a pleasant hour did we spend in going through
them. The youngest of the children liked the pictures best-that was natural enough,


but we were a quiet and attentive party when mamma would read to us the tales of fairy
lands, of talking birds and singing fishes, and the thrilling adventures of charming and
beautiful princes in disguise, who were always doing brave deeds in
defense of some imprisoned princess in a high tower in a remote land.
You must not think, though, that we didn't have fun outside of books.
We have a little girl called Tot. That is her nickname. Her real .
name is Elsie.. Here she is, sitting in her high chair. She sees another
baby in the teaspoon. So there are two little girls instead of one.
Then when she turns the spoon round
she finds still another one. One of
-^ : -- -. -- \_- I-;E "
S. -.-- -- these has a face all spread out; her
Si ,.- eyes look squinted and tiny, but the
S '.' i other seems fat and jolly, and stands
f .' uponn her head. When Tot has oat-
:' meal for breakfast these three are
great friends, and they kiss each other

S children, and see what you will see.
If- 7 -'. Last week Frankie got a stool and
I,- 'said he was going to superintend the
', .:' dolls' washing. The stool upset and
-' the boy tumbled in the tub, and it
was as much as little Tot could do
to get him out again. Then she ran after her brother, and, tripping over a hoon,
went sprawling on the grass. Both thought
it great fun, and, as the dinner-bell rang
and they entered the house, they told .
their mamma that the garden was full A
of wash-tubs and rolling hoops, and quite a -
dangerous place to play in. Mamma laughed
and said she would be very careful indeed. riA -


Some years ago, while
traveling in England, I met y PrT o
in a deep, shady lane a don- i ti .
key-cart, driven by a lad, and "Do 1
in it were four very pretty
girls, from eleven to six, evi-. .
dently sisters. They were
quite mad with spirits at
having so rare a treat as a
ride, and they were laughing
and singing in a way that
almost made me cry with mere
sense of the beautiful. They
saw that I looked pleased, and
answered me very prettily
when I made inquiry about .
my route. I asked them to
go on singing, and they all
four began caroling in perfect
concert, and in tones as joyous
as a lark's. I gave them all
the silver I had about me to
buy dolls with. Now mark
how quickly my kindness was
returned, and in a very pleasing way. Part of the silver was laid out in buying apples by the
largest girl. At school she met a friend, a shy, timid, poor girl. Down went a plump hand to
the depths of a pocket, and when it came out it held a fine, red apple. "Do you like apples,
Hetty?" she said. "Indeed I do," was the quick reply; and Hetty thought and said that none
had ever tasted half so nice as this apple, it was so juicy and crisp and tart. But what pleased
me most, when the teacher afterwards told me the story, was the kind feeling that prompted
the child to the doing of the generous act. I so love to see the young willing to give cheer-
fully and to do to others as they would that others should do to them. I was amply repaid.


Harry had been lying on a lounge for three weeks, for he had broken his leg. It
is very hard for a little boy to keep quiet all day; but it gives him a very good chance
to show a patient and sweet-tempered spirit. Harry's mamma and all his friends were
doing whatever they could to help him pass away the time. They read to him and told him
stories. They brought him pict-
Sures, and flowers, and fruits, and
nuts. "What have you got for
me?" he asked one day, in a
fretful voice. His mamma had
just come in. She showed him
something in a little box. "What
are they ?" asked Harry. East-
er eggs, dear. See how lovely
they are!" They were lovely.
Each one was colored all over,
I, and had a pretty flower painted
on it, with some reading. "They
are for you and your little
sister," said his mother. "I will
let you have your choice, because

you have to keep still. Which
do you like best?" "I want
.them all," said Harry, putting up
an ugly lip. I am very sorry
to say that Harry was not show-
ing any patience or sweet temper.
Indeed, the more people tried
to be kind to him the more cross and selfish he seemed to become. "Don't you want
to give some of them to little Jessie?" asked his mamma. "No-o-o-o," whined Harry.
"See!" said his mamma, taking up one of the eggs. "Do you remember when you
went to find wild flowers last spring? These are the little purple and white anemones
that used to peep at you almost from under the dead leaves. And don't you know how


the blue violets smile up from the grass?
The dear Lord has made everything
beautiful for children, and he wishes them
3jto love one another." "I'll give Jessie
two," said Harry, "and I'll have four."
"Very well," said mamma, "which will
you keep?" She felt sorry at seeing
what pains he took to pick out the four
prettiest for himself, leaving what he
thought the dullest and plainest for his
sister. Next morning a cheery voice
cried, "Good morning, brother," and Jes-
sie's two arms went about his neck as
she gave him a loving kiss. "See!" she said,
--- m mamma has given me two Easter eggs. I'll

give one to you, Harry-the prettiest one, too, because
you can't run about as I can, poor Harry! Oh, how ashamed Harry felt as his dear
little sister offered him the prettier of the two, chatting all the time! "Or I'll give you
both. Mamma says this is Easter Sunday, when Christ arose from the grave to show
people the way to heaven. And he loved little children, and wants them to love one
another." "0, Jessie!" said
Harry, I'll take your eggs, but -
I'll give you mine, every one.
Yes, you must take them." :,.,
She had to, for Harry would
have it so. The gentle-hearted
girl had taught him a lesson.
She then ran to the garden for
a few snow-drops, to put beside
his plate and brought them to
him singing like a bird: "Little
children, love one another."


.- Littlc Mattie was always getting into mischief,
bec iuse she would not heed what older and
co.o a wiser people told her. She always wanted
,' to see for herself if things were just as
they were said to be. One day she
told her sister Amy, who was much
younger, that she was going to
Sget some honey out of the bee-
Shives. "The bees will sting you,"
said Amy. "I am going to see
if they will," said Mattie; and she
ran to the hive and overturned it.
Out swarmed the bees in, great
numbers. They were very angry
at being disturbed, and lighted on
-. lattie's face, neck and hands,
Sstin-in:n her so badly that she fell to
th- gr.'unr1d, ,creaming with pin. 'The
cook ran out of the kitchen and picked her up. She was sick in b,:d for
several days, and you may be sure she never went near the be,--
hives again. But she was not cured of meddling. One day she-
leaned over the well-curb to see how deep the well was. "Takes
care! you'll fall in," said Amy. "No, I won't fall in," said Matti-:
but just as she spoke, over she went. The well was not very\
deep, and Mattie did not get hurt at all; but she had time
to get very wet and to cry almost a teacupful of tears before
her papa came and drew her up in the well-bucket. She
caught cold, too, and had to stay in the house for a week,
and take very bitter medicine. But she was just as meddle-
some as ever, and it took a very severe lesson to cure
her of her bad habit. One day her brother Joe -' -
left his gun in the hall while he went into the


kitchen for a drink of water. Don't
-MCI y touch that gun, Mattie," he said; "it
.f 'Ki is loaded." Mattie was playing with
Aher dolls by the hall-door; but as
S' soon as Joe went away she ran to the
gun and stroked it with her hands.
V,' She took hold of the gun and tried
: -_-- to lift it, but it was too heavy. It
Ali fell to the floor, and went off with a
A'. loud noise; and Mattie fell, too, shot
.. through the knee. It was many weeks
before she could play outdoors again,
and then she had to walk with a
crutch. But she had learned to let things alone. She was cured of her bad habit.
Mamma is busy, nurse is sick, and it falls to Birnie's lot to amuse baby Eva. She
draws her along in her carriage through the buttercup meadow, and down to the little
river. While she stops on the bank to throw stones into the water, a thought comes
into her head. Her eyes twinkle, and she says to the baby: "Oh, let's play canal-boat!
That will amuse you better than anything. Mamma said I must 'amuse' you, don't you
know? You sit very still, like a dear, good, little girl. I will run back and get a tub
and play it's a canaT-boat. I will
get a rope, too, and be the mule -,-- -
that pulls it along, you know, : .- '--
and we'll have a jolly ride." Eva --' '
doesn't "know" at all. She sits .: -. ."
still till Birnie comes with a tub, :- "
and a rope, and a very red face. -'"
The tub was awkward to carry, '-
and knocked against her ankles _..
at every step, almost making .
them bleed. She puts Eva into --
the tub, but the little lips begin


to quiver, for she has never had
Sa tub-ride on the water. Birnie
e-.- sees the cry coming. She gives
_1 I her some slight finger-taps on
Ui eye and nose, mouth and chin,
-and says: "Eye winker, Tom
Tinker, nose dropper, mouth
eater, chin chopper." Eva laughs
a little, and clutches the sides
hm to. dof the tub with her chubby hands.
"r li fo::- The mule starts off, singing: I
have a little sister, and we call
her Peep, Peep: she wades in the water, deep, deep, deep"-when over goes the little
sister, tub and all! But the water is not "deep, deep, deep," and she keeps her pretty
head up, like a little turtle taking his sun-bath. Birnie dashes in and drags her out.
They both set up a shriek that brings mamma running to them, and she takes them
home to dry. They both looked upon it as great fun. Mamma thought it very dangerous.
There lives for two or three months every summer, on a farm, away from any
neighbors, a little boy named Erwin. He is -a contented little fellow, and knows how
to make his own enjoyments, so that he is never lonesome. He thinks his father is as
good as half a dozen boys. To do what a grown-up man does, is always a great pleasure
to a boy of eight. Erwin has his little garden like his father's big one. He raises
corn, peas and beans. He has his own little workshop, in which
he can saw and pound to his heart's content. He is always ready
to drive the cow home, feed the hens, and help take care of the
horses. Of course, being a boy, he wanted a horse for his own,
that he could harness and drive. As he Couldn't get one any
other way, he thought he would make one. In the first place he
took an old nail-keg and bored four holes, in which he stuck the
legs, made of broom-handles. There was the body complete. Now,
a horse must have a head; so next a piece of a clapboard was nailed on one end of the
barrel for the neck, and another piece on the end of that, pointing down, for the head.


Two pieces of leather tacked on for ears, two eyes painted in black, and a tail made
of an old feather duster, made a very good-looking horse. A horse must have some-
thing more than good looks to be of much value to its owner. As he was not a fast
horse, Erwin decided that he must draw the plow. A harness of twine was made,
and he was driven out to the field. You never saw a horse so quiet. He proved to
be very steady and patient. He never did anything worse than to lose his head off,
and such a good creature deserved to be
well taken care of Erwin made a stall
in the corner of the barn, and nailed up
an old starch-box for a manger, filling
it with oats and hay. Above it was the
little scaffold. It was full, and showed
very plainly that the little farmer had a
good grass crop that year. Every evening,
when the tired horse was brought in, he
was covered with a bright-red blanket,
and tied in the stall, which had been nicely
bedded down for him for the night. Some
of our readers, as they sit eying this
engraving, may say, "\Vell, that is a
queer-looking thing. It looks like a horse,
but it is not a horse. What sort of a
creature is it? If a dog were to bark at it,
would it move? I wonder if it would run
away if the stable should catch fire? How -
much will it eat in a month? Can it drink
a pail of water? Is it ever hungry or
thirsty?" These and other questions may be asked, and I feel certain that our friend
in the stable will not answer any one of them. But, if you want to know whether Erwin
had any fun with his horse, and how long this fun lasted, and whether it was real
fun or not, why, that is quite another thing, and can be answered in a moment, by
the writer of this story, to the complete satisfaction of every boy who reads our book.


When Minnie was about ten
years old her health was not good,
so it was decided to send her to
spend a summer with an auntie
who lived upon a large farm. There
.. were on the farm three barns, into
the largest of which the cattle were
driven every night. .On one side
were the cows, all fastened by their
heads, and quietly waiting their turn
to be milked. Such a long row of
horns! Minnie was quite timid about
\\'alkin 1:g p)at them. On the other side were the yearling
calves, and the little girl's uncle said she might have one
for her very own. She was delighted, and chose a light tan-colored little bossy, with large,
brown eyes. At first the calf was rather wild, and shrank from the little girl's advances;
but finally it became tame enough to come to her when she called. One day Minnie
was standing on the fence,
feeding salt to her pet. Then
the idea came into her head
to try a ride on Bossy. She --
coaxed the calf up close to the
fence, and suddenly jumped
on, man-fashion. Bossy was
too much astonished at first
to stir. Minnie shouted "Get
up!" Away the calf started. J
The first thing Uncle Will ---
knew they came flying to-
wards him. The little girl,
though frightened, pluckily retaindcl hl-r -eat, and l held on \\ ith b,,th
arms around the calf's neck, until her uncle helped her down at the barn-door.

'k Q


"I am four years old to-day, and my name is
Maple Maywood. 1 have not been to school yet, but
L'" -- -- -_ _-

I know the names of all the letters, and I can read
short words. My aunt gave me a real live chicken. She
gave it to me last summer. I often take it with me
when I go a-visiting. You cannot guess the name of
my chicken. Well, you need not try. I call it Bantam.
I have just brought Bantam to see the three little house-
., keepers on this page. Their names are Bertha, and
Mary, and Jennie. What a hard life they do have Bertha
S-- is sewing baby-clothes, Mary is dressing her doll, and
S /' Jennie is packing her trunk. I like to take a peep into
this little nursery. These friends of mine own ever so
many doll babies, and have piles and piles of dresses, and pretty little trunks and bureaus
to put them into. I wish they liked my chicken, but they do not. I wonder if they will a k


me to stay to dinner ? I am afraid not; they appear too busy, and I think that Bantam and I
had better go home. Although I am four years old, they say I am too little to play with them."
Why, they are only making believe," says one of our readers, a little girl, as she looks
at the picture. I, too, can look busy when I am dressing my doll, and yet I am all the time
only making believe that it is a baby." That is all true, my little friend, but these three house-
keepers are very happy in their play, and Maple's love for Bantam is a real love. Now let me
tell you a story: There was a little girl whose mother used to call her Teenty. She called
her Teenty because she was so small. She was not quite four years old. She lived in a small
house on the edge of a wood, and not far from the railroad. Her father tended a gate on the
road. One day Teenty thought she would go a-Maying and find some flowers, and have a
real good time. She met a frog on her way to the wood, but it only said Ka-chook and
then leaped out of her way. "You cannot scare me, Mr. Frog," said Teenty. "I was not
born in the woods to be scared by a frog." Boom! said the frog. All at once Teenty saw
three children standing in the middle of the road. Their faces were beautiful, but their dresses
were queer, and they cried out when they saw Teenty: Here comes a little girl; we are three
big bears; let's eat her up." And they just looked as fierce as fierce could be. But Teenty
wasn't frightened at the bears, either. "Ah, you three sly, pretty things," said she; you'd
rather eat candy any day than a little girl; shoo! go home!" And Teenty went on her way.
By and by the sun came out warm, and the wind blew from the south, and it was quite mild,

r ,, //


x ',, ,. ..' '' '

and our little girl came to a stile, and in a meadow was a mooly cow. Teenty said to the cow:
"I'm going a-Maying; may I come in where you are and pick some flowers?" And the
mooly cow said, Moo-oo." Teenty took this for "yes," and, coming in, she plucked her lap
full of flowers. Then she walked home. She felt proud that she had been a-Maying, for she
had heard of the fine times which the city children have on the first of May, and she felt that
she ought to show that she, too, could keep the day. But what did her mother say when she
saw her? Her first words were: "Why, you little Teenty! I did not know what had become
of you. Where have you been?" "I have been a-Maying," said Teenty, "and I went
through the woods, and tumbled on the grass. I met a frog, and he spoke to me, and three
big bears got at me in the road-a papa-bear, and a mamma-bear, and a baby-bear-but a
mooly cow saved me and gave me some flowers, and then I came home, and I have had a good
time, so I had; and next May-day I am going off again, for it's real fun, mamma, and you
would say so had you been with your little girl." And I think you would have thought
so, if you could have seen Teenty's laughing eyes and rosy cheeks, and have heard the
kiss her papa gave her, as he caught her up in his arms and hugged her. But mamma
said that if the country was so overrun with ravenous bears, it would not do to let her
little girl go out alone; but they would talk about that next year, when May-day came again.


It all happened in this wise: Blanch owned a doll named Cora, and I, an old man,
was coming up the garden-path to make a morning call, when I met Blanch, doll in hand,
walking so fast that I said to her: "You've got the whole day before you; what are
you in such a hurry for?"
I'm going to the doctor, sir,"
replied the little girl, "for my
doll is very ill; she's got a
raging fever, and I guess she is
going to be awful sick. I put a
bandage round her head and
mustard to her feet, and gave
her cambric tea, and she doesn't
seem a bit better. I lay all the
trouble to a plate of pudding
which she ate last night just
before she went to sleep, and I
-was thinking what I'd do if the
._v "'.- --doctor isn't in, or wouldn't come,
S----- ;r if his charges are too high.
I've only got three cents. Do
_F -. Z you think, sir, that my dollie

will die ? Oh, I do believe she's
a heap better, and we'll go
r- shopping instead of calling on
the doctor, and I'll buy some
candy, and, if that doesn't agree
_i- with her, I'll eat it myself, and
give dollie a good nap at noon-
time, and-" So chattering, the wee mother passed along, and I kept on my way,
thinking, not sadly, of the golden days of my own childhood, when all of life seemed
one long summer, and my heart was as full of gladness as the birds are full of song.
In the afternoon I met my little friend again. Dollie was well and Blanch was happy.


Gertie is four years old.
Think of it! What a great
age to reach in these dan-
gerous times! Little May is
just turned two. One is quite .^ j
motherly, while the other is
still a baby. Listen to the .,
way in which the big girl
talks to the little one: "Poor -
'ittle baby-sister, I's so sorry
for you. I's four great big .
years of age, and you's only two. Now, if you'll
stand up on your tip-tip toes, and promise not to
let it fall, I'll give you some of my dessert. Oh,
dear, why are you so small and I's so big? But, '
May, darling, I 'ove you just as much as though
you were as big as the sky, and I'll take good care
of you, and feed you, and teach you all my letters."
Next door they have another little girl named Laura,
but everybody calls her Tot. She is a darling of ---
darlings. You can see her on this page, sitting in the
corner, eating peaches and cream. Her doll-baby is
lying on the table, but dollie has had her breakfast, and in a few minutes Laura will
take her on a morning visit to Gertie and May. Then what fun the three will have!
The nursery is full of toys-tin soldiers, wooden horses, rubber balls, patent swings,
cribs and buckets, and shovels and hoes, and, whether in-doors or out, our three little
.., maidens are going to have a happy time. And no
S" A playmate can be kinder than Gertie. She could run a
'- ,.- kindergarten school all alone. The pretty pictures she
--can make, and the block-houses she can build, astonish
her little friends. And, though only four years old, she is
-a-- the patientest and most motherly little body in the world.


Last summer Charlie "camped out" with his two uncles, two aunts, grandma, and
little cousin Harry. Their camp was right on the edge of a lake, and they had two
nice boats to row in. Though he was only eight years old, Charlie learned to row and
manage a boat very well before they had been there two days. Then how grand he
felt He wanted to be on the water all the time. Grandma said that he might row just
in front of the camp all alone; but she couldn't let him go out of sight,
,, \ ,i, unless some older person was with him. Grandma was afraid to go
S- --..... with him. But the others often went, and had very nice times;
S fr Chirlii: would ro\ whenever they wished. One day Aunt
Emma came to the t_.nt door, and Charlie, from the boat,
invited her to -, with him. Aunt Emma consented. The
''' boat was close by the plir. Charlie sat with the oars in his
.... '" , hands, all ready to r:\\w. Aunt Emma put one foot in the
boat; but just a second too soon
Charlie began to row. The sudden
S-- -- jrk made Aunt Emma lose her bal-
ance, and she sat down, splash-
i right into the water I Oh, how
frightened Charlie was! Thinking
Sa only of himself, and how well he
was going to row, Charlie hadn't
; ---~~
-- c stopped to be sure that Aunt
S- -- Emma was in before he started.
And now how sorry he felt I The
water was not very deep, and
Aunt Emma was not hurt. But
she had had a bath, and was wet through. Her clothes were so heavy with water that
she could hardly climb up the steps to the camp. Grandma was frightened; but Aunt
Emma laughed as well as she .could with her mouth and nose full of water. Some
aunties would have been angry and scolded Charlie. But Aunt Emma knew that he
had not meant to do it. He felt a good deal worse about it than she did. So, as soon
as she could get on some dry clothes, she went down to the boat again. This time


S- -. Charlie watched till Aunt Emma
-was seated in the boat before

S- he began to row. Then they
went across the lake, and had
a splendid time picking water-
I': -' Ililies. And I am glad to say
that, on their return home, they
met with no accident, and for the
rest of the summer there was not
;_j-,.. 1 .^ on all the lake a more careful
i boatman than our little Charlie.
On our next page we have a
picture which reminds me of the lines, "She had lost her mother, and she would have
no other." It happened down at the sea-shore, one summer afternoon. I was walking
along the smooth, wet sand, picking up pebbles and tossing them to the out-going tide.
A little girl came toward me. She carried in one hand a new little wooden
spade, and in the other a new little wooden pail. One could see at a glance
that the little girl with the little pail and spade was
not happy. The beach sand looked very invitin:
to dig in; but by the looks of the spade
it had not been digging, nor by the
looks of its owner was it likely to.
Neither sand nor a single pretty pebble,
red, white, blue, or gray, did the pail
contain. It was something of far more
worth the little maid was wanting.
"Have you seen my mother?" she
inquired, and burst into tears. I did
not know her mother or her. Farther
on could be seen some women walking --
on the beach. Near by a little party were
gathering wild roses and trimming their hat,. The


flying-horses were in motion, and some women stood looking at the sport. Others were
just taking their seats for a ride on the electric railway. To each of these groups I
called the little girl's attention, and lastly to a row of finely-dressed ladies seated in the
wide veranda. Among all these there must have been good mothers. I do not doubt
there were some who had no little girl; but in each instance this little wanderer shook
her head sadly, repeating, with tears and sobs, I've lost my mother." Coaxing her
not to cry, I led her to the walk
S .beyond the hotel to look for the lost
,- mother. We would search until we
/ -- found her; there was no need to cry.
S But still she wept every step of the
--_ way, and could not be comforted.
What is a trip to the prettiest beach
on the Atlantic coast, if directly one
Finds her mother missing? My little
Companion toiled on with her pail
.v and spade, her tear-stained cheeks
I and lips trembling with the words
sobbed forth, over and over, "I've
; lost my mother." Some people now
came in sight around a little hill,
walking slowly two by two. The
child searched them with her eyes,
presently saying, eagerly, "There she
is-I see my mother!" She ran to
meet her. I noticed that the mother
did not appear troubled about the child wvho had gone out of her sight. Perhaps she
was willing her daughter should learn that it is best for a little one to keep by her
mother's side when out walking in a strange place. And a servant may have kept the
little girl in sight all the time she was lost. As the party passed me the little summer
visitor looked up and smiled pleasantly. I hope she had a nice time after her sorrow,
and that she enjoys, as I do, the remembrance of that day's excursion by the sea.


The Filbert children were going
to Farmer Wheat's for some cream.
S'. It was a mile to the farm. Harry
V 4'', -----,' was to take his new wheelbarrow,
S to wheel the jar. They were to have
ice-cream in the afternoon. At the
S_- thought of this treat both Harry and
4-. ... \-. little Helen clapped their hands with
joy. "Walk carefully," said Mamma
'1'. \\ Filbert, "for the jar will be full. If
-"r you are tired you may rest in the
shade. Come back as soon as you
can." The children set out in high glee. Harry frolicked along the road, while Helen
picked wild flowers by the roadside. The earthen jar was filled with cream. Mrs. Wheat
tied the cover on, and packed the jar
nicely in the little wheelbarrow with some
wisps of hay. "Now it will not slid:
about," she said. The children set out
upon their return. But the sun now
began to grow warm. Let us go through
the woods," said Harry. Do you know
the way ? asked Helen. "I think I do.
It isn't far." It was pleasant in the shade,
though the path was rough. The squir-
rels frisked overhead, and the children
began to feel like frisking themselves.
Besides, what can you expect when a boy
has a fine red wheelbarrow, with yellow
horses painted on the sides. The horses
were standing on their hind legs, just as 9
if they were trying to jump up to the
squirrels. Harry forgot what his mother -- --


told him. He began to frisk, and then to gallop, while
--the wheelbarrow bounced over the stones in the path.
SA The children raced till they were out of breath. The
S -path was longer than they thought. Mamma Filbert
had been looking for them fifteen minutes when they
-c reached home. "Why, how warm you are!" she cried,
as she took out the jar. As she opened it she laughed
and shook her head. "You will have to go without
i ice-cream to-day," she said. The children began to
wonder. Their mother took a spoon, and, after a few
,F,' stirs with it, showed them a fine jar of butter. "Your
SI :i wheelbarrow is a good churn, Harry," said she; "but
.\,.'i' when you go after cream you must mind your mother,
and walk carefully." So Harry's disobedience cost the
S children their ice-cream for that day at least.
i "Little Bunny" is the funny pet name of a very
cunning little girl. She has a trick of boxing her own
rosy ears when she has been naughty. I am afraid she
must box them quite often, for she is a sad rogue.
-- '---.-_ -..:_ Bunny never misses a chance to run away. Doors and
gates are kept bolted, but she will stand patiently by,
hoping to slip out at some unguarded moment. Snipe, the dog, was
as anxious for his liberty as Miss Bunny. One day, under the car-
riage-gate, he dug a hole large enough for himself "-
/.4"r "'," , '-2
to crawl through. Wise Bunny saw it, and lost no
time in crawling through after him. Several times .
she escaped in this way. Mamma could not think
how the little girl got out. At last she watched her .
,N ,,' ,,--
and caught the runaway. When Bunny went to sleep .
that night papa filled the hole with earth. The next ''
morning her first business was to run to the gate l
which she and Snipe shared. Finding it "all gone," I I'


she hung her curly head and looked very earnestly at it for a moment. Then she went
down upon her knees and began to scratch the dirt out with her hands, as she had
seen the dog do. But mamma was watching, and carried her away. So she and
Snipe had to spend the day in making some other plan for running away.
For planning mischief, and for having fun, little John and his sister Nan were
noted all over the neighborhood. I
will give an instance of what might '
be called a day of mishaps in Baby-
land. These two little ones had read .
that a bag of gold was to be found
at the foot of the rainbow, and so
they started off to find it. They would
go to the end of the world. They
would travel where they could touch
the blue edge of the far-off sky. One
was going to carry the cat, and the -
other was going to carry the kitten.
They had no money, and they never ipi
thought of a hat or a bonnet. How
old pussy and the kitten were to get
milk never once entered their wise
young heads. But off they started, .
and, by dinner-time, when the bell
rang, they had got no farther than the
garden gate. And because old pussy
and- her kitten were so heavy they
concluded that they would put off the ,
journey for that day and go in to lunch.
There was one fly that would keep too near the pan of milk, and three times he
had fallen in. Hettie had lifted him each time quite carefully, but he persisted in run-
ning into danger, and now he has tumbled in once more. Hettie is going to carry him
out in the sun to dry, for his glossy coat is dripping wet. Then Hettie will cover up


the milk, for there are other flies in the room, and when they find the milk they will
run into the same temptation as their companion. So to save the flies and to preserve
the milk, our little Hettie will cover the pan, darken the room, and drive out the flies.
Hettie has a little bird, and she calls it Tot. It can sing and play; and it is so tame that
it will put its bill between Hettie's lips when she says, "Kiss me, Tot." Her dog Fancy
is quite fond of the bird, and will let it light on his head; and Hettie is trying to make
Muff, the cat, give up her habit of killing birds. But I hope that Hettie will be careful,
and not trust Muff alone with her
bird. I knew a cat in a bird-
Sshop that was trained to take
., Q L care of birds, instead of harming

/ them; but this is a rare case.
/ "It is hard to keep a cat from
-I 'catching birds, and from troub-
e' o ling the little young ones in their
e' "- Tt nests. This fly, that Hettie has
saved from drowning in the milk,
Smay escape only to be eaten by
the spider, whose web. you can
see in the dairy window. But
Hettie is so fond of Tot that
she will not let a cat come into
the room where he is. Tot can
-whistle a tune. He likes to light
-. .... on Hettie's head, and will some-
times almost hide himself under
her thick and beautiful hair. She feeds him and gives him a bath every day, and lets
him fly about the room. When he hears another bird sing, he holds his head to one
side for a minute, and then he sings, too, as loud as he can. If Tot were to fly out
of the window, I think he would try to get back to his own little cage, so fond is
he of Hettie. When Hettie leaves the dairy, the day is so pleasant she is going to
have Tot enjoy himself out in the sunshine, and Muff, the cat, must not come near him.


:.' ~_' _-- ._ All through the neighborhood she goes by
S the name of "Morning Glory," for of all the
bright and sunny-hearted children she is indeed
the brightest and most sunny-hearted. This is
[. ,her seventh birthday, and she has been wan-
during in the glen, picking bluebells for her
evening tea-party. The day has been perfect,
'. golden from early dawn, and our "Morning
S.... Glory has been as happy as the birds, as full
__ ', of song as the babbling brook, and her gentle
eyes as bright as the sapphire skies above her.
In our love we should find sunny room for all
i such children, for their presence makes a sum-
f merland of our own more advanced lives.
/ "," O-'Our little darling, Dimple, is sitting in the
--. sun, blowing bubbles. To a happy, healthy child
this is right *good fun. A big, bright bubble
goes soaring high, and Dimple watches it with eager eyes. Suddenly a light beams
in her loving, soft blue eyes, and she says:
"Oh, I hope it's going where May lives,
up in the skies!" May is the baby-sister,
who went to heaven one day, and ever '.. , since Dimple has often asked her mamma, *
"How much longer, mamma, will May .
remain away?" And now, as the bubble ,-
dances still higher in the air, little Dimple
cries out: "Oh, it is almost up to heaven! ""
And when it disappears from view the little,.
watcher says: "I saw it go to heaven, and /
May will get it, and know I sent it to her, : '' '
and she will be so glad." And who can tell
that Dimple's thought is not divinely true ? ;. .


Everybody says she is a beauty, and what
S everybody says must be true, you know. She
s i has beaming hazel eyes, her cheeks are rosy
S.red, and from her dainty little feet to the curl
Son her forehead she's a charming little elfin
-- queen. We asked her one morning, "Why
are you called Queen Bess?" and she lifted
her sweet face to ours and said, as gravely as
a princess, "I'm the queen of my papa's heart."
Here is Baby Belle going to sea all by
,"- herself. She likes it, for she does not know the
\ danger. She claps her hands and shouts:
"L "Here's me, Bobby! Gi' up, B'ossom!" "Go fetch
her, Bruno!" cried Bobby. The great dog
-barked, as if to say, "Ay, ay, sir! and leaped
into the lake. "Good boy! Swim hard! Go
fetch her!" Baby Belle laughed when she saw
the dog coming. "B'uno come too!" she called. The Blossom sailed away, and Bruno pad-
dled after. The wind stopped
teasing the boat for a minute,
and the dog swam up and caught I
the dragging rope. "Good boy,
Bruno! Come on, sir!" cried
Bobby. How the great dog did
tug and pant. And Baby Belle
enjoyed it, and promised Bruno
a cooky when they got home.
At last they came to shore, and
brother Bob jumped on board.
He patted Bruno and tossed him
a cooky. Then he gave Baby Belle ----
a hug of joy, and said: "YWell, I'll never be


so careless again. This time I'll go captain,
Baby Belle; and you may go mate. Now
three cheers for the tug-boat Bruno!"
This is a picture of little Effie Martin, who
lives in the upper part of New York city. Every
pleasant day her grandfather takes her in his
pretty buggy to drive through Central Park.
One spring day they came to a very fine garden,
and in front of the gate stood a little girl, in a
queer, short-waisted German dress, who, dropping
a funny courtesy, asked: "Is der something de
little lady wants?" Well, "de little lady" did
want a good deal, and grandpapa bought lettuce,
and chicory, and a bunch of beautiful flowers.
It was very delightful to sit under the trees
in the park and watch the swallows skimming
above the lake, and while the children would
watch the birds, some of them would say: "The little birds are in swimming!" And it
did seem as though the little
things were bathing in the water.
One day I met a little boy crying
and sobbing. His nurse was try-
ing to comfort him. "What is
the matter ?" I asked. Sure,
sir, the monkeys have his hat!"
said the nurse. "How very rude
of the monkeys!" said I. Can't
we get it away from them ?"
"They tore it-all into bits," sob-
bed the little fellow, "and 'vided it _
between them." Here he laughed --
to think of those monkeys, each


with a piece of a hat. "Come and see!" said the little boy. So we turned back, and
one of the monkeys had got the red lining of the hat and put it around his neck for
a cravat. Roy laughed merrily when he saw this. But then he said: "I haven't any
hat! Naughty monkeys!" "Never mind, Roy," said I; "when I was a boy, I lost my
hat, too, one day." "Did the monkeys take it?" said Roy. "No. I was on a steam-
boat with my mother, and was out on the deck, when the wind caught my straw hat
and took it far off on the water. Sir Wind was the rogue that time! I never saw my
pretty hat again. But my mother tied a handkerchief over my head, and I had to wear it
until we reached home, and when we got there mother bought me a new hat." "That's
what we will do," said the nurse. "Come, Roy; say good-bye to the kind gentleman, and
we'll go home. I am sure that mamma won't scold, and you will get another hat."

__I- -
_- -
;----- ::

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You can find a large assortment of
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40, 41, 42 & 43 CENTRAL WHARF.

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