• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Sing-song to baby Ned
 Hazel Hollow
 Frogs at school
 Coosie and Carrie
 The Fourth of July cake
 Works of art for children
 Cherry and Fair-star
 The fat little piggies
 Little Gilbert
 What Birdie saw in town
 Bertha to baby
 A journey to California
 The children and the chickens
 Grandpa's boots
 By the winter fire
 Sleepytown
 Left behind
 The travelling bear
 Washing-day among the little...
 The old world says "good-morni...
 My mouse
 The skipper's daughter
 How Blue-eyes sold her doll
 Mother's Christmas-present
 The child and the gardener
 Johnny's drum
 Robert at the gymnasium
 Playing at horses
 Lady-birds
 What Julia did with the pond-l...
 The squirrel
 The blackboard
 Harry's dog
 Wild flowers in Colorado
 The sea-shell
 Winkie and the mouse
 Sea-bird catching
 My doll
 Uncle John's dog skye
 Ginx's harness
 How Uncle Peter saved the...
 Where is he?
 Emily's story
 A talk about the moon
 Tot's almanac
 Playing Robinson Crusoe
 A duck story
 The tame snake
 Harry and Chase
 A basket of kittens
 The boy and the auk
 Old Jack, the mule
 The sisters
 A wayside inn
 An armful of kittens
 The kittens
 Baby's ride
 The dog who rang for his dinne...
 George's new neighbor
 Kitty and his bottle
 The unbending doll
 A wintry day
 How the dog got the stick
 The pleasant autumn time
 The little fortune-seekers
 The ocean after a storm
 Billy Hood
 Back Cover














Group Title: In the spring - time : a collection of stories and pictures for young readers
Title: In the spring-time
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00080711/00001
 Material Information
Title: In the spring-time a collection of stories and pictures for young readers
Physical Description: 1 v. (unpaged) : ill., music ; 24 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Syndicate Trading Company ( Publisher )
Forbes Lithograph Manufacturing Company ( Lithographer )
Publisher: Syndicate Trading Company
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: c1891
 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 -- 1891   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1891   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1891
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- New York -- New York
 Notes
General Note: Contains prose and verse.
General Note: Cover lithographed by Forbes Lith. Co.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00080711
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002223950
notis - ALG4206
oclc - 189641547

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Frontispiece
        Frontispiece
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Sing-song to baby Ned
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Hazel Hollow
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
    Frogs at school
        Page 8
    Coosie and Carrie
        Page 9
        Page 10
    The Fourth of July cake
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
    Works of art for children
        Page 14
        Page 15
    Cherry and Fair-star
        Page 16
        Page 17
    The fat little piggies
        Page 18
        Page 19
    Little Gilbert
        Page 20
        Page 21
    What Birdie saw in town
        Page 22
        Page 23
    Bertha to baby
        Page 24
    A journey to California
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
    The children and the chickens
        Page 28
    Grandpa's boots
        Page 29
        Page 30
    By the winter fire
        Page 31
    Sleepytown
        Page 32
        Page 33
    Left behind
        Page 34
        Page 35
    The travelling bear
        Page 36
        Page 37
    Washing-day among the little ones
        Page 38
        Page 39
    The old world says "good-morning"
        Page 40
    My mouse
        Page 41
    The skipper's daughter
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
    How Blue-eyes sold her doll
        Page 45
    Mother's Christmas-present
        Page 46
        Page 47
    The child and the gardener
        Page 48
    Johnny's drum
        Page 49
        Page 50
    Robert at the gymnasium
        Page 51
    Playing at horses
        Page 52
    Lady-birds
        Page 53
    What Julia did with the pond-lilies
        Page 54
        Page 55
    The squirrel
        Page 56
        Page 57
    The blackboard
        Page 58
    Harry's dog
        Page 59
    Wild flowers in Colorado
        Page 60
    The sea-shell
        Page 61
    Winkie and the mouse
        Page 62
        Page 63
    Sea-bird catching
        Page 64
        Page 65
    My doll
        Page 66
    Uncle John's dog skye
        Page 67
        Page 68
    Ginx's harness
        Page 69
        Page 70
    How Uncle Peter saved the children
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
    Where is he?
        Page 74
        Page 75
    Emily's story
        Page 76
        Page 77
    A talk about the moon
        Page 78
    Tot's almanac
        Page 79
    Playing Robinson Crusoe
        Page 80
    A duck story
        Page 81
        Page 82
    The tame snake
        Page 83
    Harry and Chase
        Page 84
        Page 85
    A basket of kittens
        Page 86
    The boy and the auk
        Page 87
    Old Jack, the mule
        Page 88
        Page 89
    The sisters
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
    A wayside inn
        Page 93
    An armful of kittens
        Page 94
        Page 95
    The kittens
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
    Baby's ride
        Page 99
    The dog who rang for his dinner
        Page 100
        Page 101
    George's new neighbor
        Page 102
        Page 103
    Kitty and his bottle
        Page 104
    The unbending doll
        Page 105
        Page 106
    A wintry day
        Page 107
    How the dog got the stick
        Page 107
        Page 108
    The pleasant autumn time
        Page 109
    The little fortune-seekers
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
    The ocean after a storm
        Page 116
        Page 117
    Billy Hood
        Page 118
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
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SING-SONG TO BABY NED.


Baby dear! Baby dear!
Did you ever chance to hear
How Willie Winkie goes round the town, town, town,
And, where'er he makes a call,
All the little eyelids fall,
And the babies one and all
In their cosy little nests cuddle down, down, down?

Then the sand-man comes along,
Crooning out a drowsy song,
And seals each blinking eye that tries to peep, peep, peep
Then through the long, long night,
Even till the morning light,
Every blessed little wight
Does nothing in the world but sleep, sleep, sleep.

Baby Ned Baby Ned !
With the busy little head,
Here comes Willie Winkie now, little man, man, man;
Ask him quick to stay with you;
Ask the good old sand-man too;
Never let,them bid adieu,
And learn to sleep o'nights, if you can, can, can. M. H. F.











HAZEL HOLLOW.


NCE there was a little girl named Mabel; and,
one Saturday afternoon in autumn, she asked
her mother if she might go with some of the
school-girls to pick hazel-nuts.
Mabel was such a good little girl, that her
mother did not like to refuse her any thing; and so told her
she might go if she would take care not to get separated
from her friends in the woods.
"Do not fear for me, mother mine," said Mabel; and off
the little girl tripped, and joined her friends, Susan Lane,
Lucy Manning, and I know not how many more. school-girls,
all ready for a frolic.
They walked two miles before they came to the place
where the hazel-nuts grew in plenty; and then they all went
into a low dell, or hollow, where the nuts grew thick, though
the sunshine could hardly send one of its rays into the close
bushes.
Mabel was so delighted at the sight, that she began to
pick the nuts, and fill her apron with them; for, in her hur-
ry, she had forgotten to take a basket.
She was so intent on picking the nuts, that she did not
notice that the buzz of the voices of her friends was no
longer heard. But all at once she looked round, and saw
that she was,all alone. No trace of one of her friends could
she see. She called "Susan! Lucy!" but no one answered.
You are trying to frighten me!" cried Mabel. "Susan!
Mary! answer me! You have kept the joke up long
enough." But no sound could Mabel hear except the song
of a distant thrush, and the tapping of a woodpecker on
the trunk of a tree near by.




p..'"


HAZEL HOLLOW.

She now began to get distressed; for Hazel Hollow was a
dark and lonely place, and far from any house. Then, hold.
ing her nuts still in her apron, she climbed up out of the
hollow, and found herself in a wood. She did not- know
which path to take.
She walked a few steps, when she heard a loud rattling.
noise. "Ah! that must be a rattlesnake," thought- poor
Mabel; and off she ran in another direction, and sat down
on a rock.
But she had not sat there long, when she heard a growl
that seemed to come from behind a bush. "What can that
be ?" thought Mabel. "I'll not be afraid if I can help it"
Then came a loud hissing noise, and then another growl.
"I'm not afraid of any wild beast that dwells in these
woods," thought Mabel; for my mother told me that there
were none here but rabbits and squirrels, and I'm sure they
would run from me if they were to see me."
So Mabel picked up a stick, and was running round by
the bush, when she stumbled over something that was alive,
and that seized hold of her, and began to growl. It acted
as if it wanted to scratch and bite her; but it did no \
harm.
Oh, you needn't try to scare me !" cried Mabel. If you
can't growl better than that, you had better not try to play
the wild beast again. I know you, Lucy Manning! And
there are the rest of you hiding there behind the trunks of
trees. Oh, you ought to be ashamed of yourselves!"
Yes: there were all the girls; and I think they ought to
have known better than to try to frighten a little girl like
Mabel. They all came up and began to laugh, when they
found that she was not to be fooled. It is not a good plan to
play such jokes on children; for, if Mabel had been a timid
child, she might have been seriously harmed.
ANNA LIVNGST9N.



































































































HAZEL HOLLOW.


'', I











FROGS AT SCHOOL.


TWENTY froggies went to school,
Down beside a rushy pool.
Twenty little coats of green;
Twenty vests, all white and clean.
"We must be in time," said they:
" First we study, then we play;
That is how we keep the rule,
When we froggies go to school."


Master Bullfrog, grave and stern,
Called the classes in their turn;
Taught them how to nobly strive,
Likewise how to leap and dive;
From his seat upon a log,
Showed them how to say Ker-chog!"
Also how to dodge a blow
From the sticks which bad boys throw.

Twenty froggies grew up fast;
Bullfrogs they became at last;
Not one dunce among the lot,
Not one lesson they forgot;
.Polished in a high degree,
As each froggie ought to be:
Now they sit on other logs,
Teaching other little frogs,
GEORGE COOPER.












COOSIE AND CARRIE.


COUSIN CHARLES said, Come and see the sheep." So I
went to where he was standing on the front porch, and call-
ing Co-nan, co-nan, co-nan! The gate was open and the
sheep and lambs were coming into the yard.
I asked, Why do you tell John to drive the sheep into
the yard ?" Charles answered, Because it has been rain-
ing hard; and the brook in the meadow has grown so big,
that I am afraid the sheep will get drowned in it.
Last year we found a sheep lying dead in the brook.
Her two lambs were standing near by, crying for her.
We took them to the house, and fed them with milk. We
named then Coosie and Carrie. Mother can tell you about
them."
Then I ran to auntie, and said, Oh! tell me all about
*Coosie and Carrie." So my aunt told me about them; and
this is what she said :-

When the two little lambs were first brought in, Mary, the cook, made
a nice bed for them in one corner of the kitchen. Then she put some
warm milk in a bottle, and took one of the lamb's up in her lap and fed it.
Oh, how pleased it was! And the other lamb stood by crying until its
turn came.
The lambs soon grew fat and strong,, and ran about the yard. But they
made themselves quite at home in the house; and we could not keep them
out.
One day I went into my room; and there were Coosie and Carrie jump-
ing up and down upon my spring-bed.
I sat down and laughed heartily; and the lambs kept on jumping, and
looked as if they were trying to laugh too. But I could not have such
saucy lambs about the house any longer: so they were driven to the
meadow with the rest of the flock.

Auntie and I laughed again to think of the lambs' frolic;








COOSIE AND CARRIE.


and I said, "0 auntie how I wish they would eat out of
my hand now Do you think they will ?"
"I am afraid not," said she. "They have been with the
flock a whole year, and I suppose are no longer tame; but
you can try. Take some apples to them."
So, with some apples in my hand, I went out, calling
"Co-nan, co-nan!" The sheep were afraid, and walked
away, crying "Baa-a-ah;" and the little lambs answered,
" Baa-a-ah."


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I followed slowly; and at last one sheep stood still. I
went up close to her, calling Coosie, Carrie for I knew
it must be one or the other. She ate the apples out of my
hand, and let me pat her head, and feel her soft wool.
The next time I went out with apples, two sheep came to
my call. They looked exactly alike to me; but Mary told
me which was Coosie, and which was Carrie. After that,









THE FOURTH OF JULY CAKE.


they did not wait to be called, but came running up as soon
as they saw me.
When the sheep were driven away into the meadow-lot
again, I stood near the gate to see them go. The old sheep
walked along quietly; but the lambs jumped and frisked
about, and kicked up their heels in a very funny way. The
sheep called out "Baa-a-ah!" and the lambs answered,
"Baa-a-ah!" and sometimes it sounded like "Maa-a-ah."
Coosie and Carrie ran up, and licked my hand as I said
good-by. Now, were they not dear little pets ?
A. F. A.









THE FOURTH. OF JULY CAKE.

Fred. Oh! look here, Bessy and Maggy: come and see
the splendid Fourth of July cake that mother has made !
Bessy. -You must not touch it, Fred : mother will be
displeased if you .touch it.
Fred. I want to see if she has salted it well. Look at
the currants and the raisins!
Bessy. -And how nicely it is sugared and frosted !
Maggy. -Me see; me see!
Fred. There! Maggy has put her whole hand in.
What will mother say ?'
Bessy. It will do no harm now for me to taste it.
Fred. Isn't it nice ?
w2








!THE FOURTH OF JULY CAKE.


Maggy.- Me want plum.
Bessy. Maggy mustn't stick her hand in. She will
spoil mamma's nice cake.
Maggy. Me want taste. You and Fred taste.
Fred. Hark I hear mother's step on the stairs. Now
scatter, all three! Lick your fingers clean, and run.
Bessy. -I wish we hadn't touched the cake.

(Enter MOTHER.)

Mother. What's this ? Who has been at my cake, -
my cake that I took so much pains to make handsome ?
Bessy. Fred wanted to see if it was properly salted.


//// / U i/ / /1!1/[ I I1










THE FOURTH OF JULY CAKE.


Mother. Here's the mark of Maggy's hand! And
here's a deep hole which Fred's naughty finger must have
made! And here, Bessy, are your marks. I'm ashamed
of you all. Meddling with my nice cake without leave.
Bessy. -I'm very sorry I touched it, mother.
SFred. -So am I; but I wanted to see if it was well
seasoned.
Mother. Well seasoned, sir ? You deserve to be well
seasoned with a rod. Now, your punishment shall be, not
to taste a crumb of this nice cake, any one of you. I shall
give it to the poor family opposite. .
Fred. Hoo-oo-bo-oo Oh, don't!
Maggy. Don't, mamma; don't !
Bessy. Such a beautiful'cake !
Mother. The cake shall be given to the poor; and you
must be contented with your bread and water.
Fred. -Forgive us this once, mother. Remember it's
the Fourth of July, a day when we all want to be jolly.
Mother. They who would be jolly, must begin by
being good. The cake goes to those who need it much
more than we do.


(The children all cry.)


ALFRED SELWYN.




























REMEMBERING THE SICK.


WORKS OF ART FOR CHILDREN.

I HAVE a little daughter who never returns from a walk in
the woods without bringing a bunch of gay flowers. I have
taught her to make of them many little works of art, which
you may also like to learn, dear reader.
Here is the first. Certainly there must grow in your
neighborhood some larch or spruce trees. If we look sharp,
we shall soon find on them a handsome half-open cone. In
the small openings of this cone we stick delicate flowers and
grasses which we find in the meadows and fields.
When our nosegay is ready, we lay the cone with the
flowers very carefully in a dish of water.
After an hour, the cone is so closely shut, that the flowers
are held as fast in its scales as if they had always grown
there. This makes a very nice present.









WORKS OF ART FOR CHILDREN.
I


I will tell you how to make another pretty thing. You
know what. a burr is. Alas! it has often played you many a
naughty trick, -woven itself provokingly into your clothes,
or perhaps into your hair. I can teach you to make a better
use of it.
Pluck an apron full: lay them one against another so that
they shall stick fast together, and make in this manner the
bottom of a small basket of any shape you like, round,
square, or oval..
Now build the burrs up around the edge to form the
sides. When this is finished, make also the handle of
burrs. A lovely little basket stands before you, which you
can fill with flowers or berries from the fields, and carry
home to your mother. Of course you know how to make
wreaths and bouquets; but to make them tastefully is a
true work of art, in which all children should try to become
skilful. AA LGTO.
~~~- ANA ,inaJ












CHERRY AND FAIR-STAR.


I COULD not have been quite six years old when I became
the possessor of a canary-bird, to which I gave the name of
Cherry.
There were three children of us;,--myself (the oldest),
Arthur, and baby. My father was at sea; ,and my mother
had charge of us all in her little house near the ocean.
Well do I remember one cold day in winter )vhen we were
all gathered in the one little apartment that served us for
nursery, dining-room, and sitting-room. Arthur, who had
overslept himself, was at"his breakfast; mother was feeding
baby; and I was looking at my dear Cherry in his cage.
Pots of hyacinths in bloom were on the table; Mr. Punch,
Arthur's Christmas present, lay as if watching the cat on
baby's pillow in the basket; and Muff, the old cat, with Fair-
Star her kitten, were lapping milk from a basin on the floor.
My dear mother had taught Muff to be good to Cherry;
and Muff seemed to have overcome her natural propensities
so far as to let Cherry even light on her head, and there
sing a few notes of a song.
"So, on the day I am speaking of, I let Cherry out of his
cage; and he. flew round, and at last lighted on the kitten's
head. At this Muff seemed much pleased; and Fair-Star
herself was not disturbed by the liberty the little bird took.
But all at once Muff sprang upon Cherry, and, seizing him
in her mouth, jumped up on the bureau. At last it would
seem as if the old cat had chosen her time to kill and eat my
poor little bird.
No such thing Our good Muff was all right. A neigh-
bor, who had come to borrow our axe, had left the back-door
open; and a hungry old stray cat had suddenly made her














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TIHE FAT LITTLE PIGGIES.


appearance. Muff saw that Cherry was in danger, and
seized him so that the strange cat should not harm him.
Cherry was not only not hurt, but not frightened. Well
do I remember how my mother placed baby on the pillows,
drove out the strange cat, and then took up Muff, and petted
and praised her till Muff's purr of pleasure was loud as the
noise of a spinning-wheel.
Afte: that adventure, Cherry and Muff and Fair-Star were
all better friends than ever. LucY KORNER.




THE FAT LITTLE PIGGIES.

SAID a sow to her piggies so white,
"Oh! the chilly winds whistle around,
There is ice on the old miller's dam,
And there's snow on the hard frozen ground;
But a warm, sheltered stackyard have we,
Where all day you may play hide-and-seek:
So away, little piggies, my white little piggies,
For a gambol and scramble and squeak.


"You have all had your breakfasts, I know;
For your trough was full, up to the top,
Of the sweetest potatoes and milk;
And you've not left a bit or a drop;
But, though an old sow, I'll not grunt:
So begone round the barn for a freak,
And I'll watch you, dear piggies, fat, curly-tailed piggies,
As you hurry and scurry and squeak."








THE FAT LITTLE PIGGIES.


So at once, 'mid the fresh-sprinkled straw,
The young pettitoes scampered away;
And they rooted and burrowed and hid,
Theri all quiet a minute they lay:
Soon their pink-pointed noses peeped out;
Then their bodies, so plump and so sleek.
Oh the glad little piggies, the mad little piggies -
How they snuffle and scuffle and squeak !
GEORGE BENNETT.












LITTLE GILBERT.


A TRUE STORY.

MANY years ago a little boy, named Gilbert, lived in a
small town in New Brunswick, on the banks of the St. John
River. The river is deep and swift; and Gilbert's papa had
often warned him not to go too near the brink.
One day, when the little fellow was about six years old,
he went with his papa down to the river; and, while his papa
stopped to talk with a friend, Gilbert wandered along the
shore.
He took with him his fishing-rod, and thought it would be
fine fun to catch a fish all by himself: so he went close to
the edge of the water, and dropped in his line.
After waiting a few minutes without getting a bite, he
thought he would walk out on a raft that he saw close by,
and try his luck in a new spot. He crept along till he
reached the outer edge of the raft; but then, as he threw out
his line, his little bare feet slipped, and over he went, plump
into the river. A splash, a scream, and down he went.
At the time of this story, there were a good many Indians
in New Brunswick; and a party of them were in camp in the
woods near the river. They were harmless, peaceable In-
dians, and very friendly to the boys of the neighborhood,
who liked to visit their tents, and see them weave baskets,
and make bows and arrows, and scarlet slippers, and other
pretty things.
Luckily for Gilbert, an Indian boy happened to be fish-
ing near the raft, and saw him slip off into the water. Al-
though the Indian boy was not much older than Gilbert,
he was larger and stronger, and he knew how to swim. In








LITTLE GILBERT.



















an instant he plunged into the river, seized the poor little
.drowning boy, and brought him to the land safe and sound.
His papa took him in his arms, all wet and dripping, and,
after thanking the brave Indian boy for his noble deed,
hurried home, scolding Gilbert by the way for disobedience.
Poor little Gilbert was very miserable. It was not at all nice
to be wet and frightened and scolded all at once; and, worse
than all, he feared he would be punished when he got home.
So, when his papa carried him into the kitchen, it was
a great comfort to the little fellow to see his good grand-
mother sitting by the fire. She was very fond of Gilbert;
and, when she saw what a plight he was in, she begged his
papa not to punish the dear child this time, saying she
was sure he had been punished enough already by his fright
and his ducking.
His papa was so happy to have his little boy alive and
safe, that it was easy to forgive him; and in a little while


I A'1








WHAT BIRDIE SAW T IN TOWN.


Gilbert was dressed in dry clothes, and sat down on his little
stool before the fire to eat a red apple which his grand-
mother had brought him.
That night, when little Gilbert said his prayer, he put in
at the end, God bless the brave Indian boy who saved my
life 1 M. z-MUz.

WHAT BIRDIE SAW IN TOWN.

BIRDIE," you must know, is a little girl three and a half
years old. Her real name is Maud; but Birdie is her pet
name.
One day she went to the city in the horse-cars with her
mamma. They waited on the corner of the street till a car
came insight; then Birdie held up her little fat finger, and
the conductor saw it, and stopped the car.
After they were seated, the conductor called out, Fares,
ladies 1" And Maud said to him, Here is mamma's ticket;
and won't you please leave us at grandpa's house ? He
smiled, and nodded his head, and Birdie felt satisfied; for
she thought he must know, of course, where grandpa lived.
When they reached town, mamma took her into a store
where birds are kept for sale; and Birdie saw, to her great
delight, hundreds of canary-birds, and a good many bright-
colored parrots. It was very funny indeed to hear them all
singing and chattering together.
There were two beautiful birds in a large cage, taking
their morning bath. They would jump down into their little
bath-tub, dip their heads in the water, and then plunge
in all over ; then they would perch on the side of the tub,
shake the bright drops from their feathers, and seem to be
enjoying themselves as much as Birdie herself does when
mamma puts her into her bath-tub.









WHIAT PRDIE SAW IN TOWS.


Then there were some squirrels in a cage that went round
and round; and Birdie thought she should never get tired
of looking at them, with their bushy tails and bright black
eyes. She saw them crack some nuts with their little sharp
teeth.
There were also a great many goldfishes in a little pond;
and Birdie watched them darting through the water, and
thought how nice it would be to have some of them at home.
One thing more Birdie saw, which pleased her very much.
On the corner of the street stood a man with a basket on his
arm; and in it were four or five little black-and-white pup-
pies (" baby-dogs" Birdie called them), all cuddled up in a
heap, and looking very comfortable in their wicker-carriage.
The little girl took good care to point out all the sights
to Daisy, her doll, whom she carried in her arms, and who
always has to take an airing when her little mistress does.
FLORENCE








































BERTHA TO BABY.

O LITTLE, little mother I was once as small as you;
And I loved my dolly dearly, as you are loving too;
And they fed me with a spoon, because no teeth I had;
And a rattle or a sugar-plum would make me very glad.

But now I'm old and very wise, -yes, four years old am I:
My shoes and stockings I put on ; I do not often cry;
And I can read in my book; and I can draw a house;
And with my pen and paper can be quiet as a mouse.


I have a little garden; it is planted full of flowers;
And there, each pleasant afternoon, I pass some happy hours;
And soon I hope, my little pet, that you'll be large enough
To go with me and play, when the weather is not rough.
DoRA BURNSIDE.


r.4






























A JOURNEY TO CALIFORNIA.


Two little girls, Annette and Lisette, went to California
with their parents in 1849. There was no Pacific Railroad
at that time; and the journey across the plains was a long
and a hard one.
Annette and Lisette rode in the great wagon drawn by
oxen. They thought that fine fun. At night they slept in
a tent. On -pleasant days they walked with their mamma
for miles over the green prairies, plucking wild-flowers as
they went along.
They saw great numbers of the funny little prairie-dogs
sitting in the doors of their cunning houses; sometimes
they caught sight of an antelope; and they often passed
great herds of shaggy buffaloes.
They liked the prairie-dogs and the antelopes; but they








A JOURNEY TO CALIFORNIA.


were afraid of the buffaloes; and, when their papa went out
to shoot one, they would almost cry for fear he would get
hurt. But, when he came back with plenty of nice buffalo-
meat, they had a real feast; for they had had no meat but
salt-pork for many a day, and they did not like that very
well.
Sometimes a storm would come up with fearful peals of
thunder, and flashes of lightning. More than oice the tent
was blown down, and the rain came pouring on them; but
the little girls put their heads under the bed-clothes, and
crept close to their mamma, and never minded the storm.
After travelling in this way three or four months, they
were still many, many days' journey away from California,
and Annette and Lisette began to wish themselves back in
their old home; for now the plains were no longer green
and bright with flowers, but hot, sandy, and dusty, with
only ugly little bushes, called "sage-bushes," growing on
them.
Sometimes they would have to go all day without water;
for the water was so warm and impure, that nobody could
drink it,- not even the cattle. They saw several hot
springs, so hot that they could not put their hands in
them; but their mamma found them very nice for washing
clothes.
Late in the fall they crossed the Sierra Nevada Mountains;
and, oh! how steep and narrow and rough the road was!
Often their papa had to fasten logs of wood to the wagons
to keep them from going down the mountains too fast.
Sometimes a wagon would upset, and go rolling down
hill.
Yet the children enjoyed being in the mountains; for
they liked to play under the tall pine-trees, picking up the
cones, and hunting for lumps of pine-gum, and hearing all










A JOURNEY TO CALIFORNIA.


Sthe time the sweet music of the wind as it sang in the
branches.
But in a few days the weather got very cold. Heavy
snow-storms came on. One night twenty head of cattle
.were frozen to death; and as there were few oxen left, anl
the flour was almost gone, the little girls began to be vcr,
much afraid that they should perish too.
Luckily their papa shot some fat deer, which gave them
plenty to eat; and, after many hardships, the whole party
reached the Sacramento River in safety. Here they got on
board of a flat-boat, and went to Sacramento City, where
they lived in a tent for many months. I may some time tell
you how they went to the mines.
A journey to California is a very easy matter now-a-days.
You may go by railroad all the way, and have every com-
fort by day and night.
Annette and Lisette have made the journey more than
once in a palace car; but they often think of the times
when they were two happy little girls riding over the prai-
ries in a baggage-wagon, or playing together under the
mountain pines. A. F.












































THE CHILDREN AND THE CHICKENS.
CHILDREN five, and chickens three,
In the sunshine you may see:
Playing in that narrow ground,
See them run and run around !
Without stockings, without shoes,
They are free their feet to use.
Children, chickens, tell me which,
Are in happiness most rich ?
Food the chickens try to find;
But the children, they have dined:
So I think we must allow,
That they are the gayest now.




































GRANDPA'S BOOTS.

How the stars did snap that December night! The moon
was up too; and how cold and white she looked!
And how busy Jack Frost was No one saw him swing
a hammer; no one heard him drive a nail: but, by the
time morning had come, he had laid right across the ponds
and the river a floor of ice smoother than any wooden floor
ever put down by the joiners of Norridgewock.
All the boys were out sliding. Ed Peet had come from
over the river; Fred Danforth was there from the tavern;
and George Sawtelle came running up from the big house
under the willow. Others were there too, slipping along on
Jack Frost's floor.
Little Albert looked out of the window, and saw the boys
at their play. Why couldn't he go out too ?


;3~-
--~----

---










PA.tDPAVS BOPO1ya


"Shall I go, mother ?" he asked.
"Your slippers are too thin, Albert."
Oh! I can put on grandpa's boots."
"Yes, you can go, but be careful. You are too young
for such rough sport."
Off scampered the eager feet, and on went the big boots.
A smile must have lighted up the mother's eyes as she
heard her little boy tramping over the floor in the heavy
boots.
The boys were taking their turn at sliding. Away down
at the end of the line stood Albert. 'They were sliding
carefully, not running too hard; for a little way out the ice
was thin. After a while, it was Albert's turn. "I'll beat
those big, clumsy boys," he thought.
Taking a long run, driving ahead with all his force, he
shouted, "Now see your grandpa go! And, sure enough,
grandpa's boots went and went, out where the ice was thin,
and down went Albert into the water The water was not
deep, though. He was out again in a moment; and there
he stood, cold and dripping like an icicle in a January thaw.
I can hear the boys laughing, and I seem to see the smile
lighting up the mother's brown eyes still more merrily,
when her little boy came home. Albert never forgot it.
In after-years he would say, "Whenever I am inclined to
show off, I think of grandpa's boots." E. A. R.


























BY THE WINTER FIRE.


By the winter fire they sit,
Care not for the storm a whit:
Winter wars and raves without,
But within they laugh and shout.

Pussy jumps on Ellen's shoulder,
Purring, rubbing; just behold her!
Jenny lets old Carlo in,
And would warm his frozen shin.

Mary is the story-teller:
Now she tells what once befell her.
Tommy sits, and stares, and listens;
Andrew's eye with wonder glistens.

Hear the snow against the pane!
Hear the moaning winds complain!
Winter, winter, cease your din!
You can't come in; you can't come in!
XIIY CABTEV








SLEEPYTOWN.


I AM the old man you see in the picture. I was born in
Sleepytown, and in Sleepytown I have lived all my days.
Those two tall poplar-trees were planted by my father when
I was a boy.
There was a time when we thought Sleepytown was
going to be a great and famous city. In those days we
changed its name to Grandville. We laid out house-lots,
planted trees, and offered to sell land by the foot.
We had our Main Street, our Washington Street, and our
Central Park. We planned a splendid bridge over Coon
River. We were told, you see, that a great railroad was to
pass through our town; but it was laid through a village
six miles off, and so Sleepytown remains Sleepytown still.
I am afraid, if you were to stay here a week, you would
call Sleepytown dull. It is not often that business is as
brisk as the artist has made it in the picture. I have a ferry
across Coon River; and sometimes I take hay across, and
.sometimes people, and sometimes both. The fare is a cent;
for children half-price.
There are a good many children in our town; and, if it
were not for them, I think we should all go to sleep. They
help to make things lively. A good many of them cross the
river in my boat; for they all know that Uncle Silas will take
good care of them, and see that they do not fall overboard.
On the Fourth of July we are to send up a rocket, and fire
off a good many crackers; and a boy is to send up a balloon.
Lately we have had rumors that another railroad is to be
built, and that it is to pass along Coon River straight through
Sleepytown. Now is your chance, if you want to buy house-
lots. They can be had cheap. Apply quick to


UXOIE SAB.


SLBEPYTOWN































































































i~~--dUb~ -". X LIT~iriiL~CI"L11 ~lllb~-i-YiU1-iilli(-LUIIPII









LEFT BEHIND.


OOR Ponto! It made him sad to be left be-
hind, and I do not wonder at it. One bright
autumn day his little master, Henry, had said
to him, "Ponto, would you like to go to the
beach ? Uncle Charles and Iare going to the
beach."
Now, if there was any thing that Ponto liked more than
another, it was going to the beach, and chasing the little
birds along the wet sand, and seeing the foamy waves come
up and chase him, as if they were saying,"' Leave those
little birds alone."
And so, when Henry spoke of going to the beach, Ponto
jumped up and barked with delight, and tried to lick his
little master's face with his tongue. Then he ran round as
if he wanted to say, 1 Oh, I'm so glad, so glad! for I do
love to go the beach."
But there is many a slip between the cup and the lip.
Now, it happened that Mr. Cross was to make one of the
party to the beach, and Mr. Cross did not like dogs. He
Said he would not have a dog with him: so Uncle Charles
had to tell Henry that Ponto must stay at home.
Henry was greatly disappointed at hearing this. "Poor
Ponto!" he said, "after all, I cannot take you with me to
the beach. You will have to stay at home."
Ponto did not quite understand these words; but when
Henry tied a string to his collar, and fastened it to a ring
in the wood-shed, then Ponto understood that his little mas-
ter had changed his mind, and would not take his dear dog
with him to the beach.
Ponto whined and cried when he found he was not to go,







LEFT BEHIND.


and felt sad enough, when, through the open window of the
wood-shed, he saw Henry, Uncle Charles, Mr. Cross, and all
Henry's brothers and sisters, going off to the steamboat that
was to take them to the beach.
"This is too bad!" thought Ponto. He tugged at his
rope, but'could not break it; then he lay down on the floor;
then he jumped up. and barked; and then he gnawed at
the rope. "I do so like to frolic on the beach with my dear
master !" thought Ponto.
For more than twenty minutes he tried to get away; and
when at last he had almost given up trying, the rope broke,
and Ponto was free. With the rope dangling at his collar
he ran at once down to the wharf; but the steamboat had
started. Ponto saw it, and barked long and loud; but
Henry could not see nor hear him.
Henry and his party arrived at the beach without Mr.
Cross; for, just as they were starting, a summons from his
wife compelled Mr. Cross to leave. It was now too late to
get Ponto, and Henry missed him so much that he was sad.
But that forenoon while he was in the water with his uncle,
learning to swim, he saw all at once a dog running along
the sand. Can that be Ponto ?" cried Henry. Yes, it was
indeed Ponto As soon as the boat returned to the wharf,
Ponto got in, and on its next trip sailed down to the beach
without paying his fare, for the captain supposed he be-
longed to some one of the passengers.
How glad Ponto was to see his young master! And how
glad was Henry to see Ponto! They had a fine time to-
gether in the water. Was not Ponto a clever dog to find his
way all alone to the beach ? and to know, that, by staying on
board the boat, it would take him where he could find Henry ?
I think I never knew so bright and good a dog as Ponto.
EMLY CARTB.



















_w'. 7A


THE TRAVELLING BEAR.

I'VE been a wanderer from a cub,
When Carl, my master, bought me;
And up to bearhood I have grown,
And practice what is taught me.
I'm muzzled, and around my neck
An ugly chain I'm wearing:
It's very hard a gentle bear
Should bear what I am bearing.
You may admire my stately steps,
When timed to pipe and tabor;
But, oh, I'd scramble through a wood
With less than half the labor.







THE TRAVELLING BEAR.


I'm not a Polar bear, good folks,
And yet a pole I shoulder,
And on my hind-feet stalk about,
To please each rude beholder.
I wonder how old Carl would feel,
If my grim sire had found him,
And made him dance upon all-fours,
With chattering monkeys round him;
And, with a ring slipped through his nose,
Through beardom drove, or led him,
And cuffed and worried him all day,
And very sparsely fed him.

From town to town I'm led and shown,
To bring my master-money;
Ah! could I roam my native woods,
And taste the sweets of honey,
Or clamber up the mountain sides
On tender scions browsing,
And sleep within some hollow tree,
No ruthless keeper rousing!
But on my head a sounding blow
Strikes all my dreams in ruin;
And I must tramp.away once more,
A tame and patient Bruin.
GEORGE BENIETT.










WASHING-DAY AMONG THE LITTLE ONES.

THERE were four little sisters hard at work. It was wash-
ing-day; and what do you think they were doing ? Two of
them were washing out clothes; one was hanging the
clothes out on a line tied to two chairs; and baby sat on
the floor with her doll half undressed.
You may see it all in the picture. There is mother in
the outer room, stirring the clothes that are in the boiler;
but the children are in the old-fashioned kitchen. Make
out, if you can, what those things are on the shelf. I can
see a candlestick, a teacup, and several other things.
On the floor I see, besides the baby, the doll's hat and
dress, four clothes-pins, and the high-chair baby sits in at
meal-time.' Do you think those are the doll's clothes on the
line? Are they not rather too large for dolly ? On the
whole, I think they must belong to baby. That little girl
at the wash-tub, who is the eldest of the sisters, could in-
form us if her picture could only speak.
I must tell you about that little girl. Her name is Mary.
She can read and write; but she is not so fond of books that
she cannot find time to help her mother.
Who is up first of the family in the morning? Mary,
of course. Who sees that her younger sisters'are all nicely
washed and dressed ? Nobody but Mary. Who gets break-
fast? Mary again. Who never grumbles nor complains?
That darling Mary, I tell you.
And when work is over, and it is time to play, whose
laugh rings the loudest? and who helps most to cheer and
amuse all the others ? It is that same Mary; and I wish
that all little girls were like her, -as ready to oblige, and
as free to give their hands to useful work. AxAV LNvGBTO.


























































WASHING-DAY AMONG THE LITTLE ONES.












THE OLD WORLD SAYS "GOOD-MORNING."

COME, Dimple-Chin and Merry-Eyes:
God's glory lighteth up the skies,
And little folks like you should rise,
For the old world says, Good-morning."

See how the saucy sunbeams peep,
And round behind the curtains creep,
Surprised to find you still asleep,
While the old world says, Good-morning."

Of course the downy pillows coax,
And drowsy-headed little folks
Are apt to think it all a hoax,
When the old world says, Good-morning."

The soft bed whispers, Longer stay,
You'll surely not come back to-day:
There's surely time enough for play,
Though the old world says,' Good-morning.'

Haste, children! early hours are fleet;
They tarry not with lazy feet,
That they the sleepy ones may greet,
With the old world's sweet Good-morning."

Oh, Dimple-Chin and Merry-Eyes:
Swiftly away the morning flies;
Soon fades God's glory from the skies,
When the old world says, Good-morning."
RUTH ARGYLE.













MY MOUSE.


A TRUE STORY.

LAST summer, when I was in
North Adams, I asked my papa
if he would buy me a trap that
would catch mice without killing
them, so that I could feed and keep them constantly. These
traps are made of wire, with a drop-door, and a small ring
for the mice to "run in,"- such as are in squirrel-cages.
One night this year, I set my trap in my bedroom, where
I had seen a mouse. The trap was well baited; and in the
middle of the night, to my great delight, I heard the mouse
turning the wheel.
My father got up, and put the cage in a chair by my win-
dow, and put a stick in the wheel to keep it from running,
as it made a loud noise which kept me awake. In the
morning, I dressed quickly, and took my cage down stairs,
and gave the mouse a hearty meal of corn and bread.
I have taken good care of him ever since, and he seems
to be quite at home in his cage. He keeps up the squeak-
ing of the wheel both day and night. His cage is in a box
with bars across, and so arranged, that I can put my hand
through and get the cage, and then slip the bars into their
places again.
One day my sister's cat, which, like other cats, is very
fond of mice, went in front of the box, and, after watching
it some time, stuck her paw through the bars; but, as she
could do no harm, I let her sit there.
Perhaps I will tell you next month more abdut my
mouse. If you want to see him, you will only have to come
to Williamstown. SANNY G. TENNE














THE SKIPPER'S DAUGHTER.


ORA'S father used to go to sea. He was what
is called a skipper but I think a better name
than that is captain; ",for he was the captain of
"The Daystar," a fishing-schooner, that sailed
out of Gloucester on Cape Ann.
He loved his little Dora so much, that he did not like to
leave her: but then she needed good warm clothes for win-
ter, and she needed plenty to eat and drink both summer
and winter; so her father had to earn money with which
to buy clothes and food both for Dora and for Dora's
mamma.
Unlike many little girls, Dora loved to play with boats.
Wherever she could find a good deep puddle, she would
take her little boat, and sail it there. When other little girls
had dolls in their arms, Dora usually had a boat.
Dora was very fond of her papa, and was always sad when
he had to leave her to go on a fishing-voyage. Once he
went away, and did not come back at the right time. Every
day Dora would go down to the beach, and watch; but no
sign could she see of her papa's schooner. She used to
know it by a red streak painted on its sides.
One day, seeing that her mamma had been weeping, Dora
asked, "What are you crying for, dear ?" The little girl
used to call her mother "dear."
"I am crying for your papa, my child," said her mother.
"We have had bad news from the fishing-grounds. There
has been a great storm, and many vessels have been lost;
and to-day I hear that your father's vessel is among them.
We shall never see your poor father again, my little girl."
"Yes, we shall, dear: I know we shall," said Dora. There,
































































THE SKIPPER'S DAUGHTER.








THE SKIPPER'S DAUGHTER.


don't you cry any more. You shall see him, dear. You
shall see him very soon."
But how do you know that ? asked her mother.
"I don't know it, I only feel it," said Dora. "I woke up
last night, and felt it so much, that I was quite happy."
The mother kissed her little girl, and was quite cheered
by her confident words. Still a week went by, and no papa
came; and the mother once more grew sad.
Dora no longer went to the beach to look out for the
schooner streaked with red. But when her mother said,
"'The Daystar' was lost, and your father must have gone
down in her, in that dreadful storm," Dora replied, Don't
give it up yet, dear. Papa will come."
How Dora knew that her papa would come, I cannot say.
I only know that this is a true story, and that Dora proved
to be right.
The next day, after sundown, as her mother was putting
her to bed, Dora started up, and cried, "Hark! whose voice
is that? Don't you hear him ? He's talking to somebody.
It is my own papa, my own papa!"
And, sure enough, a step was heard at the outer door:
the door was pushed open; and in rushed the captain of the
lost "Daystar," well and hearty, with a plenty of kisses for
his little girl and her mother.
He and his crew had been -saved in the long-boat, and,
after some delay, had taken passage for home. "And the
best of it is," said papa, "I am not going to sea any more;
for I have found good employment on land, and now I can
see little Dora and her good mamma every day of my
life."
"I told you, dear, he would come back," said Dora, patting
her mamma on the head. As for mamma, she tried to speak,
but could not. Joy would not let her. SANDY BAY.












HOW BLUE-EYES SOLD HER DOLL.

THERE was once a little girl whose mother called her Blue-
eyes; and she had a doll whose name was Belvidera.
Blue-eyes wore a string of amber-beads round her neck;
and her yellow curls were tied with a blue ribbon round her
head.
She was so fond of her doll, that she took her with her
wherever she went; and one day she took her to a fair
which some kind ladies were giving for the relief of some
poor children who had lost their father and mother.
Blue-eyes laid her doll down on one of the tables where
things were offered for sale; and an old lady came up, and,
thinking that the doll was for sale, said, "Here is just the
kind of doll I want to buy for my little niece. I will give
five dollars for it."
"That doll is not for sale," said the lady who- kept the
table. "It belongs to little Blue-eyes yonder."
"But the poor children want the five dollars more than I
want the doll," said Blue-eyes. "I will run and ask my
mother if I may sell the doll."
So she ran and asked her mother; and her mother said,
if she wanted to get the money to help the poor children,
she might sell the doll.
So Blue-eyes sold it; and with the money she bought
three nice dresses, which she gave to the children: "for," said
little Blue-eyes, "the children need their warm dresses much
more than I want Belvidera."
I should not wonder if Blue-eyes were to wake on Christ-
mas morning, and find a new do,'- one much prettier than
Belvidera- in the stocking which shi -'vill hang up.
JANE OLIVE.











MOTHER'S CHRISTMAS-PRESENT.


ARTInU's uncle has a studio; for he is a painter. A studio
is the painter's work-room, where.he has his easel, and his
palette, and his paints. The easel is the wooden frame, or
sliding-rack, on which pictures are placed while being
painted.
The palette i3 a thin, oval-shaped board, or tablet, with a
thumb-hole at one end for holding it, on which a painter
lays and mixes his paints.
One day Arthur went into his uncle's studio, and, finding
no one present, thought he would try to paint a likeness of
his own father. So he took up the brush and the palette,
and, striking an attitude such as he had seen his uncle take,
went to work.
He became so much interested, that he did not hear his
uncle come in. Uncle Thomas crept up, and, star-ding behind
Arthur, watched him a minute, and then clapped his hands.
Arthur started at the noise, turned round, and, seeing his
uncle, dropped the palette and the brush, and ran for his cap.
But Uncle Thomas stopped him, and said, Bravo, little man!
you will make a painter. You have begun well. Let me
give you a little instruction."
So Uncle Thomas gave him a lesson in drawing, and then
said, "Now, you must finish that picture, and make a Christ-
mas-present of it to your mother."
Arthur consented, and he is now hard at work upon it;
but this is a secret. It is to be a surprise to his mother, and
I hope none of you will tell her about it beforehand.
If Arthur means to be a painter, he will have to work
hard; for there are a great many good painters in these days,
and only those that excel can hope to win fame and profit.
UNCLE CHARLSA


















- C-- ";- -I~-- 9



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VN S N,


T C A T G E
THE~ CHL NDTEGADNR


I PLANTED once a little tree
Out in the air and sunshine free:
I gave it water every day;
But still it pined and pined away.


Our gardener had a wise old head:
I carried it to him, and said,
" Take this into the greenhouse hot."
He pulled it from the flower-pot,


And, smiling, held it up to me:
"A pretty gardener you would be!"


He said. A plant that has no roof
Will die, and bear no flowers or fruit "

I hung my head, and blushed for shawi':
"But, child," said he, "you're not to
blame:
Full many an older head I've seen,
As simple quite as you have been.

You must in future wiser be,
And not plant flowers to make a tree;
But choose the roots, and wait, my dear,
Until the little buds appear."


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rub-a-dub-dub before you were up in the morning, and .the
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last thing at night, rub-a-dub-dub in the parlor, in the
*"".: : ,. l. I *

























kitchen, in the nursery. The baby could not get a wink of
sleep; and visitors could hardly hear themselves talk.
--_-- -- ':-r -



















kitchen, in the nursery. The baby could not get a wink of






JOHNNY'S DRUM.


But by and by Johnny's small bump of curiosity became
excited. What's inside of the drum ?" he asked one day.
"An awful noise 1" said Ellen the maid.
"What does a noise look like ?"
"Bless me! I never saw one; and, if it looks as bad as it
sounds, I don't want to either."
"I want to see it," said Johnny; "and I mean to."
Then he took his drum into a closet, and closed the door
after him till the light could only creep through a crack.
"I'm just going to see where the noise comes from,'cause
it wakes up the baby," said he.
So he went to work. Presently somebody called, Johnny,
Johnny!" It was his mother, who had begun to wonder
what he was about; for, when Johnny was quiet so long, it
was a sure sign of mischief.
"I'm too busy to come," shouted Johnny. "I'm engaged."
"In the closet, Johnny!" cried his mother, coming upon
him suddenly, with a fear for her jars of preserves and sweet
pickles. "What are you doing there, child ?"
"I'm only seeing what's inside of my drum," said Johnny.
"I've made a big hole through it; and there isn't any thing
in it at all!" And, sure enough, he had put his foot through
the drum-head, and rub-a-dub-dub was at an end.
Johnny was heart-broken when nothing further could be
coaxed out of the drum. "The music's all done," said he,
trying to hide the tears.
But you know now where it came from," said his mother.
"Never mind," said Uncle Jack: "you shall have another
drum the first of April."
"Oh, don't!" cried the household.
"Oh, do !" shouted Johnny.
And when April Fool Day came, Uncle Jack brought him
home, a drum of figs M. N. P.




































ROBERT AT THE GYMNASIUM.

ROBERT'S mother promised him, if he would learn his lesson
well, she would take him to the gymnasium.
He did learn his lesson .vell, and she kept her promise.
In the gymnasium, she let him mount the ladder; and then
she let him climb a short way up a pole.
Boys should take great care not to hurt or strain them-
selves at the gymnasium or in their sports. I have known
boys to be so eager in playing at foot-ball or cricket as to
hurt themselves badly.
Robert took great care, and was not hurt. His mother


---
c;;







P.LAT IyG .T HORSES.

wais with him to see that he did not run a risk by trying to
do too much
It is well to add to the strength of one's limbs by use, and
+4 gain skill and ease in climbing and jumping; but it is
njt well to run risks, or to overtask one's strength.
ROBERT'S MOTHER.
-----ag~----

















PLAYING AT HORSES.

ToM and Harry were playing at horses. Tom was the
horse, and was very frisky. Just as they were turning the
corner of the garden, frisky Tom knocked over a flower-pot
with a very pretty plant in it.
His mother came to the window just as Harry was call-
ing to Tom to stop, that he might pick up the pieces.
The plant was. broken. The boys were very sorry, and
so was their mother; bu sorrow could not mend the plant.









When children ar'e allowed to play in gardens, they should
be very careful no o ol the plants and flowers.
- - -- ~


PLAYING AT HORSES.

Toni and Harry were playing at horses. Tom was the
horse, and was very frisky. Just as they were turning the
corner of the garden, frisky Tom knocked over a flower-pot
with a very pretty plant in it.
His mother came to the window just as Harry was call-
ing to Tom to stop, that he might pick up the pieces.
The plant was. broken. The boys were very sorry, and
so was their mother; but sorrow could not mend the plant.
When children are allowed to play in gardens, they should
be very careful not to 6poii the plants and flowers. A Y.


















-LADY-BIRDS.


THREE little lady-birds,
On a summer day:
See them on the blades of grass,
Going out to play!
Came a little maiden
Down the lane so green,
And the song she sang was this;
But what did it mean? -

"Fly away, lady-birds,
Over flowers and fern:
Your house, it is on fire;
Your children, they will burn."
Nonsense, little maiden!
They no house do own;
And their grown-up children
All away have flown.


"Fly away, lady-birds,"
Sang the maiden still,
Skipping down the shady lane,
Skipping up the hill:
"Fly away, lady-birds,
Over flower and fern:
Your house, it is on fire;
Your children, they will burn."
EMILY CARTER.











WHAT JULIA DID WITH THE POND-LILIES.

"WHAT do you want so many pond-lilies for, Cousin
Julia ?" asked Albert Vane, as he guided the boat so that his
brother Charles could pull up some of the sweet-smelling
flowers.
"I do not choose to tell you what I want them for,
Albert," said Julia. "You may be sure I want them for
good, and not for harm."
Julia sat, smelling of a pond-lily, at the stern of the boat,
while her Cousin Emma leaned over the side, and tried to
pull up a lily; and little Mary Gray called to the dog Cato,
swimming near, and asked him if he would save her if she
were to fall overboard. Cato would have done it gladly, I
think.
It was a lovely day in July, and it did not take the little
party long to gather fifty fine lilies.
"Now, children," said Julia, "you will please bear in mind
that these are all mine. If you want any more lilies for
yourselves, there they are in the pond, a plenty of them."
The children laughed; and Albert said that Cousin Julia
seemed to have grown very grasping all at once, which was
i ot at all her usual way.
They soon got out of the boat, and went back to their
uncle's pleasant cottage on the edge of the pond. Then
Julia, with her fifty flowers in a basket, bade her uncle, her
aunt and cousins, good-by, and started in the cars for her
home in the city.
It was more than a week after that before Albert learned
what she had wanted all those pond-lilies for.
He had been to the city, and, on his return to the cottage,





























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i. -~- .a.- ~ -I.. r...- --- I







THE SQUIREL.


he said to his mother, What do you think our dear Julia
did with those fifty lilies?"
I am not good at guessing. Tell me at once," said Mrs.
Vane.
"I found out her secret, not from herself, but from Dr.
Brown," said Albert. "It seems she took her whole basket-
ful to the new hospital, and went round among the patients,
distributing lilies to each. Was not that sweet of her ?"
"Yes, sweet as the pond-lily itself," said Mrs. Vane. "I
felt sure she had not got all those flowers for her own en-
joyment."
"I knew she was plotting something," said Albert; but
what it was I could not find out till to-day. Oh! she is her-
self the sweetest lily of all." ANNA LIVINGSTON.




THE SQUIRREL.

HIGH, high, and as near to the sky
As the tallest branches reach;
See, see, how nimble and free
The squirrel climbs the beech!
Bright, bright, as the diamond's light,
You may see his quick eyes play;
Still, still, as the whispering rill,
Or he'll flit like a bird away.

Down, down, to the oak's leafy crown;
There he thinks he's out of sight;
Swing, swing, 0 the blithe-hearted thing!
How he chuckles with delight!








THE SQUIRREL.
"/ 'I '


4I




















Crack, crack, with his tail on his back,
'Mong the acorns crisp and fine;
" Sweet, sweet!" ah! it must be a treat
In his own green bowers to dine.

Blow, blow. and the leaves they lie low
In the autumn's chilly blast;
Drear, drear, to the eye and the ear,
All the wood's green life is past;
Deep, deep, now the squirrel doth sleep,
So snug in the hollow tree;
Calm, calm, till the spring sun is warm,
And the king-cups gem the lea. GEORGE BENNETr.
J ~---- _





























And the king-cups gem the lea. GaOo" Bl~nET.





































THE BLACKBOARD.


IN the children's play-room at Mr. Brown's, there is a blad *
board on the wall; for the children often ask their father
what a thing means: and then he takes a piece of chalk,
and tries to make the thing clear to them.
When Johnny asked him the other day what the printed







HARRY'S DOG.


notes of music meant, Mr. Brown took his piece of chalk,
and showed him how a certain sound in music has a certain
written or printed sign by which it may be known.
A blackboard is a very good thing, not only in a .school-
room but in a play-room; for though the song which says,
"Work while you work, and play while you play," gives
good ad-vice, yet I do not ob-ject to learning all I can from
play. EMILY CARTER.



HARRY'S DOG.

HARRY has a little dog,--
Such a cunning fellow!
With a very shaggy coat,
Streaked with white and yellow.

Harry's dog has shining eyes,
And a nose so funny!
Harry wouldn't sell,his dog
For a mint of money.

Harry's dog will never bark,
Never bite a stranger:
So he'd be of no account
Where there's any danger.

Harry has a little dog, -
Such a cunning fellow !
But his dog is made f wood.
Painted white and yellow. JosPHINE FOLLD.
w5










WILD FLOWERS IN COLORADO.


"HERE we are, with no use for our nice little ditches. It
has been raining from the clouds just as it does East," said
Maggie pettishly. "I thought we were in a rainless region."
"The old settlers say we have a great deal of rain some
years," said Homer. But we can keep the weeds out of
our garden; and I will show you the wild flowers I told you
about."
"Wild flowers? It seems as if I should go wild to think
of themme said Maggie. "I've had to take off my shoes and
stockings many a time to pull the cactus-thorns out of my
feet."
"Well," said Robbie, "the horses learn to step over and
around them, and I suppose we shall after a while."
"I am going to send my biggest cigar-cactus to grandma.
It is all budded, and has beautiful red blossoms," said Homer.
How do you think she can touch it, with the thorns stick-
ing every way from the c-nd of each cigar ?" asked Maggie.
"With the tongs," said Robbie.
"Do you remember the bcar's-grass that grandma thinks
so much of?" said Homer.
"Yes, I do," said Maggie. Aunt Delia calls it Adam's
thread-and-needle, and has it in her garden."
"Well, here it is, growing wild on these plains. Papa
says its real name is the yucca."
"I want a bed of these little blue flowers," said Mamie.
And you shall have it," said her brother. Oh! it is the
spider-lily. Our garden will look like our old one at home.
I guess mamma will be glad."
Then the children went home with their arms full of flow-
ers, and a basket of roots for their garden.
MRs. OLIVER HOWARD.



























THE SEA-SHELL.
7-7









THE SEA-SHELL.

HOLD to your ear the beautiful shell:
Listen! What does its murmur tell?
Hark! Does it echo the billows' roar,
As they roll and break on the sandy shore ?

Does it bring to your mind the tossing spray
Of waves that dance in the breezes' play ?
Or the quiet depths where the coral grows,
And never a ray of sunshine glows?






WINKIE AND THE MO USE.


Hark again to the beautiful shell:
Does it speak of the ocean's stormy swell,
Of the sea-bird's scream, of the rushing gale,
Of the broken mast and the riven sail?

Sights and sounds of the restless sea,
Vast and gloomy, and grand and free,
How they gather at Fancy's spell,
Waked by the voice of this little shell! H. w.




WINKIE AND THE MOUSE.

BLACK-EYED Winkie,'a little five years' old boy, woke up
in the middle of the night, not long ago, screaming with
pain.. He ran to his mamma's room, crying out, 0 mamma!
there is a hot iron in my ear, or some boiling water: oh, dear,
dear! what shall I do ?"
His mother knew at once that it was the earache that dis-
tressed her boy; for he had been out rather too long the day
before, trying to make a snow-man.
She met the poor screaming boy at his nursery-door, took
him in her arms, and tried to quiet him a little, while she
put him in her warm bed.
Then she lighted the gas, and put some sweet-oil on a soft
bit of cotton, and, after warming it a moment, pressed it
down snugly in the little dark room in Winkie's aching ear.
Then he cuddled down on his mother's arm, and after a few
more twinges of pain, and a few more screams, he began to
feel better, arid only said, "Oh, dear, oh, dear!" once in a
while.
Pretty soon, as it grew stiller, he heard a little nibbling







WINKLE AND THE MOUSE.


noise across the room. "What is that, mamma?" said Win,
kie. Lie still and listen," replied mamma.
After a minute or two, the noise came again,-- nibble,
nibble, nibble. It is a little mouse in the chimney, I think,"
said mamma.
"What is he up for in the night? said Winkle, "Why
doesn't he go to bed, like biggerpeople ?"
"Perhaps he had the earache," said mamma, "and got up
to tell his mother."
Well, I hope she will put in some cotton, and cuddle him
down in her bed, and cure the pain," said Winkie.
"Oh! I think she will," said mamma: "she will try to
make her poor little Brownie feel better."
"Will she be as good a mother-mouse as you are ?" said
Winkie, laughing nearly as loud as he had cried. Winkie
kept awake half an hour or more, talking about the mouse
and its earache.' So at last his own aches all went away.
He fell asleep, and dreamed he was'climbing into a hole
among the chimney-bricks, nibbling crackers; and that in his
mamma's bed, cuddled down on his mamma's arm, a little
mouse was just going to sleep with cotton in both ears.
MMA.







































SEA-BIRD CATCHING.


THE Faroe Isles, a group of islands belonging to Denmark,
are situated in the Atlantic Ocean, about three hundred and
fifty miles south-east from Iceland. The people of these
islands support themselves chiefly by catching sea-birds,
which flock in great numbers upon the steep rocks of the
coast.








SIX-IN-HAND.


It is a very dangerous pursuit. Every year many of the
Faroese lose their lives in it.
The fowlers provide themselves with a long cable two
inches thick, on which is fastened a kind of seat. A beam
is placed at the edge of the rock to prevent the rope being
cut by the rough stone.
The bird-taker, seated on the end of the cable, is let down
by six men. He holds a small cord in his hand, by means
of which he can make certain signs agreed upon with his
comrades.
On reaching a ledge, the bird-taker ties the rope to any
convenient point, and then kills as many birds as he can,
catching them in his net, or seizing them with his hands.
If he sees a hollow or a niche beyond his reach, where
many birds are perched, he sits down again on his little
plank, and, by jerking the rope, swings himself to the spot
he wishes to explore.
The birds when killed are thrown to the men below, who
are ready for them in a boat under the cliff. UNCLE CHARLES.


SIX-IN-HA4ND.























MY DOLL.


I AM going to tell you about my doll. Her name is Lily,
and she is very beautiful: so I think, and so do all my little
friends. She was sent to me from New Orleans. I got her
when I was only four years old. She is nearly as large
as my little sister, who is five months old.
My little sister's name is Hatty. She is very pretty, and
has curly hair like my doll. She already says, Mamma,"
and laughs when she sees me coming home from school. I
love her very much, and long to have the summer-days
come, when Rover. and I can take her to ride.
Rover is our big black dog. He is a noble dog, and a
very kind dog too. I had a little sister Jenny. Rover used
to take her to ride; so for her sake we all love Rover very
much. We shall teach him to love Hatty, who is my only
little sister now.
I am making some new things for my doll; for I mean
to give her to Hatty for a birthday gift. I am nine years
old, and my name is
SiDMEY, C.B.











UNCLE JOHN'S DOG SKYE.


WHEN first I knew Skye, he,
was, a young dog, and full of
fun. He would run and jump
and frisk, and look like a ball
of wool at play; and no walk
was too long for Skye then.
Skye was a good dog, and
would do just as he was bid.
Sometimes Uncle John would say to him, Sit down, Skye,
and I will give you a bit of cake."
Down Skye would sit. "Beg, Skye." Up Skye would sit
on his hind-legs. Then Uncle John would put a bit of cake
on this little dog's nose.
And Uncle John would say to him, "Now, Skye, you must
not eat that cake till I count six. Now: one, two -
Skye would sit as grave as you please, his fore-paws in
the air, and the cake on his nose. Then Uncle John would
say, Three, four, five -
Skye would look hard at Uncle John, as much as to say,
"One more, and the cake is mine." But he would not bark
nor move; no, not if Uncle John made him wait a long,
long time.
But when Uncle John said Six," the dog would throw the
cake up in the air, and catch it in his mouth, and eat it up ;
oh, so fast, so fast! It was rare fun to see Skye catch his
cake.
Now, years went by, and Skye grew old, and he could not
run and jump and frisk, and catch cake, as in times past; but
he was a good dog and a great pet, for all that.
When Uncle John went for a walk, Skye went with him;







UNCLE JOHN'S DOG SKT9.


till one day Uncle John took a walk which was too long for
Skye, and, when Skye got home, he was quite tired out.
Some time went by; and then Uncle John and his girls
went for the same long walk which had tired Skye so much.
"Stay at home, Skye," said Uncle John; but Skye did not
want to stay at home, and, of course, he did not know that
they were going to take so long a walk. So Skye set off to
go with them.
By and by they turned into a lane. "Ho, ho!" thought
Skye, that is where you are going; is it ? You may go by
yourself then. I shall not go with you."
But Skye did not want to show that the walk was too
long for him. He thought to himself, "I can plan a trick
by which they will not know I do not want to take so long
a walk." He was a proud dog, you see.
So Skye ran to a part of the lane by himself; and then he
stood still, and looked in the hedge; and then he, gave the
earth a scratch; and then he put down his head to smell.
He acted as if he would like to say to the folks, "I have
got a rat here: I must catch this rat. You can go on for
your walk, and I must stay and catch the rat."
And, all the time, there was no more a rat in that hole
than there is a rat in the room here. It was just a sly trick
to hide the truth that Skye had found out that the walk
would be too far for him.
For, so soon as he thought that his master had got out of
sight, Skye set off to walk home by himself. But his mas-
ter saw him for all that; and Skye was found out in his want
of truth.
Was he not a sly dog ? Yes; andhe did his trick in such
a sly way, too, that you could not but laugh to see him hunt
for the rat. when he knew that there was no rat there at all.
TROTTIE'S AUNT




























GINX'S HARNESS.


WHAT wonderful steed
Comes flying with speed
Down the walk with a scarlet harness on?
Scamper or trot,
It matters not,
Gallop, or caper, or prance, or run.

Such trappings fine!
They glitter and shine:
The bells are golden, the reins are red,
And tassels gay
Swing every way;
And merrily tosses the curly head.







GINX'S HARNESS.


Those bells of gold,
Be it hot, or cold,
Midsummer weather, or winter snow,
Ring with swinging,
And swing with ringing,
Whenever this steed starts out to go.

Does he stand in a stall,
I wonder, at all,
And eat from a manger oats and hay?
Ah, no, indeed!
This wonderful steed
Sits at my table every day.

And with haste so great,
That he cannot wait
Even to lay his harness by,
He goes to work,
With spoon or fork,
At the nearest dish, be it pickles or pie.

There is, I admit,
Excuse for it,
For Ginx has a deal of eating to do;
And more, besides,
Whenever he rides,
He has to be horse and driver too.
CLARA DOTY BATES.






























HOW UNCLE PETER SAVED THE CHILDREN.

WALTER should have known better; but he was always a
rash boy. I will tell you what he did last month, at the sea-
side, where he was staying with his mother. He persuaded
his two little sisters, Emma and Eliza, to go with him on to
a rock on the beach, near the water's edge.
There they staid, playing in the sand, till, all at once, they
looked up, and saw that the water of the ocean was all about
them. The tide had come up, and crept round the rock, so
that they could not get to the dry land without going through
water; and that they were afraid to do.
Soon the little girls began to cry. The sea-birds swept
down near them; and now and then a fish would come up
by the rock as if he did not fear them at all. Walter told







HOW UNGLE PETER SA VED THE CHILDREN.

the little girls not to make a fuss; though he began to feel
a little anxious himself.
All at once he cried out, "There's a boat with some men
in it! But it isn't coming this way. A man with a spy-
glass stands at the bow. He is spying out something.
Why can't he look this way ? Halloo, halloo !"


~~--- ---


Walter shouted as loud as he could; and then the three
children shouted all together: but nobody seemed to hear
them. On and on went the little boat before a good breeze;
but not one of the five men in it seemed to take notice of
the three children on the rock.
"What shall we do now? Shall we have to stay here all
night?" asked Emma, the elder sister.








HOW UNCLE PETER SAVED THE CHILDREN.

"We couldn't stay here all night," said Walter, "because,
you see, the rock will be all covered with water at high tide;
and, if we don't get off before high tide, we shall have to be
drowned."
"I don't want to be drowned," sobbed-Emma.
"Neither do I'want to be drowned," said Walter; "but
there's no use in crying. Tears will only add more water to
the sea, and there's more water in it already than we want."
The little girl stopped crying at these words, and took
care that no more tears should fall from her eyes. She
looked at Walter with surprise to see him so brave.
But the little fellow was sly: he had cause for his cour-
age. The boat with men in it had sailed far away; but not
far off he saw Uncle Peter, waving his arms at him. Then
he saw Uncle Peter take off his boots, and pull up his
trousers. Walter well knew that all would be right, the
moment Uncle Peter got sight of them on the rock.
Uncle Peter was a clever old fisherman, who caught fish
for the hotel, where the children were stopping. He was
fond of children; and, having none of his own, he made
much of those of other people. He had taken such a liking
to Walter and his sisters, that he was on the watch for them
a good part of the time, to see that they did not get into
mischief
"I declare, there's Uncle Peter coming!" shouted Emma
with delight.
"Uncle Peter? Nonsense!" said Walter. "Where's
Uncle Peter ?"
Now, Walter knew very well that Uncle Peter was coming,
and Walter ought not to have pretended that he did not see
him. But he wanted to seem brave. Ah, Walter! you had
better be than seem.
"Well, here's a scrape, you little rogues !" said Uncle Pe-






WHERE IS HE ?


ter, as he waded up to the rock, and took one child, and then
another, in his arms. "Here's a scrape, indeed What would
you have done if I had not been on the lookout for you ? "
Then, with his arms full of children, Uncle Peter waded
back through the salt water, to the beach, and put them all
down on the warm, dry sand, where their mother and father
were waiting for them.
The parents kissed them all round; and then little Emma
said, "I think Uncle Peter ought to be kissed too." "So he
ought, my dear," said her mother, laughing; and you shall
give him kisses for all." So Emma gave Uncle Peter five
kisses; and Uncle Peter was so pleased, that his face shone
like a jolly full moon. EMILY CARTER.

'._, -,









WHERE IS HE ?
"WHO has seen little Ray?
I left him here at play,
Keeping a candy-store;
Here are his pennies four;
And here is his little red purse:
I'll go and ask old nurse.

"Nurse, where is Ray?"
"Indeed, ma'am, I can't say.







WHERE IS HEE?


He came in just about three,
As wet as wet could be,
From playing in the brook:
I'll go and ask cook.

"Cook, is Ray hereabout?"
"He was; but he has gone out.
It's just about half an hour
Since I found him with water and flour,
Stirring it up to 'make dough:'
Perhaps the coachman may know.

"Thomas, is Ray with you ?
Here's his nurse in a stew."
" No: he's just gone through the gate,
I caught him riding black Kate;
She was tied fast, that's well:
Maybe the gardener can tell.

"James, have you seen Ray ?"
"No: I've not seen him all day;
I've to watch the fruit every minute,
So many robins are in it.
What's that that looks so red
Bobbing round in the strawberry-bed?
Hallo! Tom, cook, nurse, I say,
Here's that little mischief, Ray!"
ELIZABETH SILL









EMILY'S STORY.


OW tell me a story, my own mother," said little
Emily.
"But do you not see, Emily, that I am read-
ing? It is not polite to disturb one who is
reading," said her mother.
"And it is not polite to read in company," said Emily.
"What!" said her mother, laughing, "must I look upon
my little Emily as company?"
"But do you not see this fine lady on the sofa, who has
come to make you a visit ?" asked Emily.
Oh! Miss Lily, your proud doll, must be treated as com-
pany, and entertained; must she ?" asked mamma.
"Yes, mother :, so tell us a story," said the little girl.
Mamma could not refuse Emily any longer. "I will tell
you," said she, "the story of

S'THE LITTLE GIRL WHO ENTERTAINED HERSELF.
Once there was a little girl named Hope, who had a
bad fall from the top of tihe tairs, and hurt herself so much,
that she could not walk. but had to be dragged round in a
little carriage.
"On fine sunny days in spring, they would drag her in
the carriage out on the lawn; and then Hope would say,
'Now leave me, for I can entertain myself.'
"But how did the little girl entertain herself? She had
no books, no pictures, no toys, no doll, -nothing but some
crumbs and some canary-seed in a bag.
"This is what she did: she made the acquaintance of
some little birds, blue-birds, yellow-birds, and gray spar
rows, to whom she gave the crumbs and the seed.







J2MItY'S STOPY".


"By and by, they grew so tame and so bold, that they
would fly up on her lap, and eat; and at last they would
stand on her finger, and peck up the seed from the hollow
of her hand.
"But there was a little sparrow to whom Hope had given
the name of Tot; and he was so quarrelsome, that she had
to scold him. He wanted to drive off all the blue-birds and
yellow-birds, so that none but gray-birds should have the
seed. He was a Know-nothing, you see.
"He was so bold, that he was not at all afraid of Hope.
Once, when she had a bit of bread in her mouth, Tot flew
up and pecked at her lips, as much as to say, Give me that
bit of bread: I want it myself.' Was he not a saucy bird ?
"Hope laughed a good deal to see Tot so eager. But she
did not punish him. She only talked to him, and tried to
teach him to be good to birds of a different color from
himself.
"When it grew near to sunset, and the birds had to fly
away to their nests, Hope would watch the clouds, and try
to see the evening star. Then her mother would come and
take her into the house, and give her some bread and milk.
"The sunshine and the fresh air did her so much good,
that Hope at last began to grow strong, and at last she
could walk as well as anybody.
"The birds were frightened, at first, to see her walk; but
they soon found that she was their own dear little Hope,
and then they would light on her shoulder, and be as fear-
less and free as when she had to sit all the time in her
carriage.
When' Hope grew quite well she did not lose the habit of
learning to entertain herself. She loved the birds and the
flowers and the trees so much, that she found them always
good company.







A TALK ABOUT THE MOOS .


"While her mother was occupied, Hope never had to go
and tease her to tell her a story. She wanted no better
stories, you see, than the birds and the flowers and the trees
could tell her. You must try to do as Hope did."
EMILY CARTER.


A TALK ABOUT THE MOON.


"THERE, don't you see those dark places on the moon ?
do," said Henry.
"Those," said his mother, are mountains, with deep cav-
erns, or valleys, by their side.
"Nobody can live in the moon, because an atmosphere is
needed to sustain life; and the moon has no atmosphere.
"The air we breathe is the atmosphere about our earth;
and, if it were not for the air, we could not breathe at all.
"When a man goes very high up in a balloon, he gets
nearer and nearer to the place where our atmosphere ends;









TOT'S ALMANAC.


and then he finds he can't breathe as well as he could down
near the earth.
"The moon is not nearly as large as our earth; but it is
four hundred times nearer to us than the sun is. No water
and no clouds are to be seen on the moon. It must be a
very dry place there.
"The moon we now see is a full moon. Soon she will
begin to wane; then she will get between us and the sun,
so that we cannot see her bright side. She is then said to
change.
"Days will pass by, and at last she will turn a bright edge
toward us; and that we call a new moon. This will grow
in breadth till we have a half moon; and, not long after-
wards, we shall have the dear old friend we are now looking
at the full moon back again." ALFRED SELWYN.





TOT'S ALMANAC.


WHEN January's here,
Snow-men appear;
While February's waiting,
We'll have some skating.

When March comes this way,
Breezes are at play;
During April hours
Expect sun-showers.

When May-flowers hide,
Search far and wide !
When the year's at June,
Half the world's in tune.


While July stays,
Flies have curious ways;
When August comes,
Look out for plums!

While September wears,
Help get in the pears;
When October grieves,
Help bind up the sheaves.

Ere November flies,
You shall see mince-pies;
When December's knocking,
Then hang up your stocking.
MARY N. PRESOOTT.

















r118"


PLAYING ROBINSON CRUSOE.

PLAY this is my little island
In thq middle of the floor;
And this arm-chair is my castle,
With the ladder up before.

Play the cat is my man Friday;
And the broom shall be my gun;
I've some wooden goats and a parrot:
Please to call me Robinson.

Play I'm sighing for a vessel,
And I'm on the watch for her;
Then the table is my big-boat,
Which I've tried in vain to stir.








A DUCK STORY.


Play the savages are coming:
They are making for the land!
Now, I'm going to fire among them
When they gather on the sand.


Oh! it's jolly on this island
For an hour or so to stay;
But to live so far from mother!-
I am glad it's only play !


GEORGE COOPER.


A DUCK STORY.


LITTLE ADDIE W.. was five years old. She lived on a farm,
and took great delight in feeding and petting the lambs,
chickens, and ducks. They all learned to know and love
her. This made Addie very happy.
One morning, she was much pleased at finding in the barn
eight little ducklings, eight little puffs of down, with queer
little bills, bright bead-like eyes, and the cunningest little







A DUCK STORY


web feet. She laughed with delight as they waddled about
on the hay.
Then she ran to the house to tell mamma; and soon
brother James had fixed a pen to keep the little ducks in.
Addie placed some boards over the corner of the pen to
shade them from the hot sun. Then she fed and watered
them, and felt as though she could hardly leave them long
enough to eat her own dinner.
Every day she watched and tended them; but, when they
were about three days old, she began to feel very sorry that
the poor little things had no place to swim in. They would
dip their little heads into the drinking-dish; then crowd into
it, and try so hard to swim, that Addie thought she must
find some way to gratify them.
So, after thinking a little, she ran to the house and bor-
rowed mamma's hatchet and fire-shovel; then she climbed
into the pen, and began to chop away at the ground in one
corner. After she had loosened a portion of it, she threw it
out of the pen with the shovel; then she loosened more;
and worked away until she had taken out earth enough to
leave a hole as large round as a bucket, and nearly as deep.
Then she brought water, and filled the hole quite full.
When all was ready, she drove the ducks down toward
their little pond. As soon as they saw the water, they
plunged into it, and seemed so happy, that the poor little
girl felt well paid for her trouble. She watched them a
while; and then, feeling tired with her work in the hot sun,
she went back to the house.
When, two hours later, she went to look again at her
treasures, she found that her pond had all dried up, and the
poor little ducks were glad enough to be taken out of the
hole.
This was their first lesson in swimming; but Alice did not








THE TAME SNAKE.


try to give them a bath again. They soon grew large
enough to swim in the big pond; and by and by, to Alice's
delight, they had a new brood of ducklings to take to the
water with them. s. M. D.


!I c/ .


-4 7- r-.--
A ";


THE TAME SNAKE.

MosT people dislike snakes' very much. Some snakes are
harmless; but the bite of some kinds is so poisonous as to
cause death. So it is best-to have as little to do as possible
with snakes.
But snakes may be tamed; and I have heard a true story
of a lady who tamed a little green snake so that it would







HARRY AND CHASE.


follow her wherever she went. If she went in a boat, it
would swim after her; and, if she put out her arm in the
water, it would creep up, and wind itself round her neck.
I do not think I could ever like a snake so well as to let it
do such things; but the fact shows that kind treatment will
make even snakes show love and confidence.
The lady I speak of was so kind to all living things, that
they all seemed to know she was their friend. An old horse
that was very skittish when any man mounted his back
would stand quite still while this lady mounted.
I have heard a true story of a little girl who was sitting
out of doors one day, eating her bread and milk from a bowl,
when a large snake came up, curved-his head over into the
bowl, and lapped the milk. The little girl was not fright-
ened.: she only said, "Take a spoon, snake." The snake
did not hurt her. As soon as he had got milk. enough, he
went off IDA FAY.


HARRY AND CHASE.

SHARRY and CHASE are two little boys about
five years old, who live in the same town,
and quite near each other. They are great
friends, and very fond of playing together.
Harry's mamma is an English lady; and he
S has chubby red cheeks, and dark hair and
eyes: Chase's mamma is a French lady; and
he has light hair, large blue eyes, and less
rosy cheeks than Harry.
Harry's papa is building a railroad a long way off from
home, and one day he sent Harry's mamma two paroquets.
Do you know what a paroquet is? It is a beautiful bird








A DONKEY RACE.


with bright red and yellow feathers, and looks very much
like a poll parrot: indeed, it is a sort of parrot.
Harry's mamma put the two paroquets in a wooden box
till she could get a cage for them; but they did not seem
happy in the box, and would take but very little food. In
a few days one of them died. The other one picked and
picked at the wooden box with its strong bill, till it made a
hole and got away. It flew out of the window, and was gone
in a minute.
Harry and Chase set out to hunt it; and, after some
time, they found it in a peach-tree some distance from
the house; but they could not catch it. It flew about
the neighborhood all day, making a strange, loud noise,
and towards evening it lighted on the roof of a barn near
Harry's house.
After dark, Fred, the hired man, climbed up, and caught
the paroquet in his hands. They have a tin cage for him
now, so he cannot bite his way out any more.
C. M. W.


A DONKEY RACE.


V-~ ~


~-s~











II I
~ .-,
* ..*'*.
V- '


A BASKET OF KITTENS.


"Pussy, Pussy!" called Willie one morning to his cat.
Pussy stuck her head out of the closet-door, and said,
Purr, purr, purr."
"What makes you stay in the closet, Pussy?" said Willie.
"Purr, purr, purr," answered Pussy.
Willie went to the closet, and opened the door; and there,
in a box where mamma kept a beautiful white shawl, were
two cunning little kittens.
Pussy was very much pleased that Willie had found them;
and she rubbed against his legs, and said, "Purr, purr, purr."
Willie ran and told his mamma. When she came, she
said, "Dear me! kittens on my best shawl: that won't do.
Run, Willie, and get the basket that you keep your toys in."
Willie brought the basket, and mamma made a soft bed
in it. The basket was just big enough for Pussy to curl up
in it with her kittens.
Willie ran around with the baskets, showing Pussy and her
kittens to every one.







THE BOY AND TIE AUK.


Pussy loved Willie very much, because he had been good
to her. She liked to have him carry her about; and she said,
"Purr, purr, purr," all the time.
Willie said that he liked to have "live toys" in his basket
better than tops and balls and tin soldiers; and he sat out
in the woodshed with the basket in his arms nearly all day
long. BETiL


THE BOY AND THE AUK.

AUK, auk, why don't you walk?
Why don't you walk or fly ?
Can it be nice to live on the ice
Where the great sea-waves roll by ?"

Boy, boy, hobbledehoy,
My wings are-short and small:
If I were to try, not far could I fly;
And I have no legs at all."

"Auk, auk, I wish you could walk:
I'd find you a pleasanter home,
Far from the shore where the cold winds roar,
And the great green sea-waves come."

"Boy, boy, hobbledehoy,
This home is for me the best:
ONE wiser than you directs what I do,
And teaches me where to rest."
MRs. A. M. WELLs.


























OLD JACK, THE MULE.


HE belongs to us boys, and we drive him as much as we
please. He is a very safe animal to drive, for he never runs
away; and it is as much as we can do to make him run at
all. A slow walk is his favorite pace.
In the picture you may see us taking a ride in the mule-
cart, just as we looked when we were photographed the
other day. We wanted to have little Lucy in the picture:
so George and I took her on the seat between us, and Harry
stood up behind. I took off my hat, you see, because it
came right in front of Harry's face.
We all sat still while the picture was taken; and old Jack
stood as still as a statue. Standing still is one of his strong
points. He is not a match for a :ace-horse in speed; but he
can't be beat at standing still.
Harry says he should like him better if there were more
"go" in him; and so should I. But we like him very well
as he is; for he is a good old mule, and gives us many a nice
ride. F&,.


3\2\_
P
--
--~I"








A SONG OF NOSES.


P UNCAN has a nose,
Points my finger at it:

-Has a nose the hare,
He will let you pat it.










r
Peacock has a nose,
"Very proud he's feeling.

Has a nose the bull,
Soon he will be lowing.







Has, a nose the fox, Has a nose the hog,
He is very knowing. Soon will he be squealing.
Tell me which of all these noses
Duncan now the best supposes.










THE SISTERS.


NCE there lived near the fields and woods of a
small village a poor woman who had three daugh.
ters. Though good, she was so simple, that she
was ready to believe all that people told her.
One day a peddler came to .her house, and
tried to get her to buy a wooden clock; but she said she
had one already: then he tried to make her buy some tin-
ware; but she told him she was well supplied: and at last
he offered to tell her fortune and that of her three daughters
for a quarter of a dollar.
This seemed to the poor woman very cheap; for she was
not wise enough to know that a foolish thing is dear at any
price. So she consented to give him'a quarter of a dollar
if he would tell them all their fortunes.
Here are my three little girls, -Anna, Bella, and Celia,"
-said the mother.
"Why don't you call them A, B, and C ? asked the ped-
dler: that would save time; and time is money, you know.
Come here, Anna, and give me your hand."
Then Anna gave him'her hand; and he looked at the lines
on the palm, and said, "You, Anna, are born to great riches.
Dear me! How rich you will be! What piles of gold. I see
hid away all for you to handle !"
Then Bella came forward, and gave the peddler her hand;
and he looked at the lines of the palm, and said, "Well, I
declare! what a golden family you are going to be! iNoth-
ing but gold, gold, gold, can I find in these lines. There,
Bella, your fortune is told."
Little Celia now let him take her hand; and, as he looked




































































STHE SISTERS.
W7






THE SISTERS.


at her palm, he, put on his spectacles, saying, These lines
are so fine, that I ought to charge double price for studying
them. However, a bargain is a bargain. You, Celia, are
going to be the richest of all."
"And how is it with me ?" asked the good mother, hold-
ing out her hand, and at the same time paying the peddler
his quarter cf a dollar.
Oh! said he, looking carelessly at her hand, and then
taking up his pack, "you are rich enough already!"
And with these words the saucy peddler put the money
in his pocket, and departed.
That next summer, on a lovely day in June, the three
sisters strolled out near the edge of a wood to pick wild
flowers and make dandelion-chains.
As they sat on a bank under a tree, they began to talk
of the peddler and the fortunes he had promised. They
were too wise to believe-what he had said; and they laughed
merrily at his impudence.
"To think of his telling mother that she was rich enough
already!" said Celia.
"An idea strikes me," replied Anna. "The peddler was
right after all, right in a certain sense. What he meant
was, that mother was rich in love. By gold he meant love;
which is something better than gold, you know."
Yes," said Bella; and, when he said we should be rich,
he meant we should dearly love one another. And don't
we love one another? And isn't this little Celia the richest
of all in love ? Yes: I now see what the peddler meant, and
I do not grudge him his quarter of a dollar. We are all
rich, oh, very rich, in love !
Then the sisters rose and sauntered home with arms
around one another's necks to tell their mother of the
bright discovery which they had made. DoRA BunsNID.




















A WAYSIDE INN.


WAs ever host so kind as mine,
With whom I tarried lately ?
A golden apple, as his sign,
From a high bough swung stately.

It was the goodly apple-tree,
Whose shelter thus invited:
There sweetest fare was given me,
And freshest drink delighted.

Guests came unto this green roof-tree,
Full many lightly winging:
They feasted, danced, and sang with glee,
Till all the air was ringing.

For my repose I sought a bed;
A grassy couch was found me;
My host himself a cover spread
Of cooling shade around me.

And, when I asked what I should pay,
He shook his crown benignly:
May he be blest till his last day,
And root and shoot thrive finely!
M. A. C. (FROM THE GERIAN OF UHLAND.)









AN ARMFUL OF KITTENS.


OuR Emma has only one fault: she is too fond of kittens.
She always wants a troop of kittens about the house; and
as I like order, and do not like to have my spools of thread
rolled about the carpet, I am a foe to kittens.
The other day I heard a great noise from the old cat.
She was whining and crying as if in distress. I went into
the barn to see what was the matter; and there was Emma
with three new-born kittens in her arms.
She was so greedy, that she could not be content with
holding one at a time: she must have them all. No won-
der the old cat protested against such grasping conduct -
Emma has a dog: Turk is his name. He is a little bit of
a fellow, but brave as a lion. The other day, a great dog
came into the yard, and ran for a kitten. The old cat was
in the barn at the time, and did not see him.
Round the yard and into the garden he ran, Emma trying
in vain to stop him, and the poor little kitten frightened
almost to death, ahd scampering for dear life.
But, just as the big coward of a dog got a few hairs of the
kitten's fur in his mouth, he all at once came to grief.
What do you think took place ? Why, little Turk flew
straight at his throat, and gave him such a nip, that he howled
with pain. Just then the old cat came up, and, seeing what
was going on, bristled with rage, and would have scratched
out the dog's eyes if he had not run out of the yard.
Then the old cat went up to Turk, and purred as if to
thank him for what he had done. She had not been very
friendly to him before.
Ever since that test of his courage and good will, she lets
him come to the swill-pail without growling or spitting at
him. I think she would share her last bone with him now.
EmMA's AUNT.



























































AN ARMFUL OF KITTENS.









THE KITTENS.


"O PAPA!" said Emma, running up to her father one
day: "our old cat has got five dear little kittens. Isn't it
nice ?"
Much to Emma's surprise, her father did not seem to be
pleased at all. He was not fond of cats.
"Well, my dear," said he, "I think they had better be
disposed of. One cat in the house is enough."
But these are not cats," said Emma. They are cunning
little kittens; and I don't want to have them disposed of."
Here Emma's mother put in a word. "They will soon
grow up to be cats," said she. "We cannot keep five more
cats. We must get rid of three or four of them at once."
But Emma wanted to keep them all. Five kittens, she
said, were none too many. There was one for herself, one
for little Ann, one for Johnny, one for the baby, and one for
the old cat. What could be nicer ?
In spite of Emma's entreaties, in which the other children
joined with great clamor, papa insisted upon it that the
kittens must be "disposed of." What did he mean by that?
I heard him say something to Patrick the man-servant about
chloroform. Could that have had any thing to do with it?
I don't know. But, if Pat was expected to dispose of"
those kittens, he had a wonderful knack at forgetting it.
lie had a tender heart, and he was very fond of the children.
He had a great deal to do. How could he think of every
thing ?
So day after day passed, and the kittens were not disposed
of. The children made them such pets and playmates, and
grew so fond of them, that even papa had to give in at last,
and accept them as members of the family.




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