• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Title Page
 Polly White: A true story
 The story of the wicked hippop...
 Young artists
 Three years old: The little...
 Tommy and the snake
 Back Cover






Group Title: Oh! How pretty : a picture and story book for young readers
Title: Oh! How pretty
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00085601/00001
 Material Information
Title: Oh! How pretty a picture and story book for young readers
Alternate Title: Oh how pretty
Physical Description: 16 p. : ill. ; 26 cm.
Language: English
Creator: F.M. Lupton Publishing Co
Publisher: F.M. Lupton Publishing Company
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: c1898
 Subjects
Subject: Juvenile literature -- 1898   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1898
Genre: Juvenile literature   ( rbgenr )
non-fiction   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- New York -- New York
 Notes
General Note: Cover title: Oh how pretty.
General Note: Date from inscription.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00085601
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 001865625
oclc - 28946038
notis - AJU0126

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Polly White: A true story
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
    The story of the wicked hippopotamus
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
    Young artists
        Page 12
        Page 13
    Three years old: The little mother
        Page 14
        Page 15
    Tommy and the snake
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
    Back Cover
        Page 19
        Page 20
Full Text


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F. M. LUPTON PUBLISHING CO.
NEW' YORK.





































































































The Baldwin Library
University

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Oh!


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Pretty


A PICTURE AND STORY BOOK

'FOR YOUNG READERS


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NEW YORK
F. M. LUPTON PUBLISHING COMPANY


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POLLY WHITE.



POLLY WHITE.

A TRUE STORY.

I am going to tell you a little story, and it is just
as true as it can be. It is about a hen, There were
--- -- twenty hens in. Mr. Penny's yard, and some were
white, and some were black, and some were gray.
This one was white, and her name was Polly.
One day Mrs. Penny said "to the girl in the
kitchen, ', Nancy, you may put those duck's eggs
under Polly *White and cover her up with a
S basket." Polly was very young, and had never
sat on any eggs before. She thought it would
be good fun; but when the basket was put
Over her she felt as if she should fly. It was
-- [ ---' -not nice to be shut up in the dark. And then
she did get so tired! It takes only three weeks to hatch chickens, but it was four
Weeks before Polly's ducklings came out of the shell. And when they came
out, how funny they looked! They-were very large and yellow, with round bills
and very queer feet, -and when they tried to walk they waddled. Polly had never
seen .any ducklings before, and I suppose she thought these creatures were
Chickens. They did not look like other chickens, to be
sure, but she thought they were all the nicer for
that. Mamie .Penny came out, laughing, and set a
*pan of cornmeal dough near the back door. Polly was
very hungry, but -she would not touch one mouth-
ful uitil she had called her little ones to breakfast.








POLLY WHITE.

There were twelve of them, and they dipped in their round bills like spoons. After
breakfast they rolled up their eyes, ahd what do you suppose they were thinking
about? They were thinking how much they wanted to swim. Wasn't it strange?
How did they know anything about swimming? They had never seen any water;
they had only seen the blue pump in the yard. But they made up their little
minds that they would go and find some water. Now there was a pond behind
the barn; not very far off. Nobody told them it was there, but they ran that way



















as fast as they could waddle. Their mother ran after and tried to stop them, but

the moment they saw the water those- ducklings jumped right in. Poor Polly
How frightened she was! How she flapped her wings and clucked! She thought
they were crazy, and she was sure they would drown. But no, they struck out
their little feet, and began to swim. It was a pretty sight. They held -up their
heads and looked very gay. Polly did not know what to think of this, but when
she found it did not hurt them at all she was very proud, and liked it as well as
they did. After this they came to the pond every day, and she came with- them.








POLLY WHITE.

She thought there never was such a bright
family as hers. They were brighter than
their mother; and Polly was ashamed be-
cause she could not swim. Well, the next
summer- came, and Polly sat on some hen's
eggs, just as the other hens did, and of
course she hatched chickens instead of duck-
S lings. She took them down to the pond the
very first thing. Wasn't it queer that she
Should remember about it? But they would

not go into the water. She clucked and scolded and almost pushed them in, but
it was of no use; they couldn't swim and they wouldn't try. Polly was very
angry. Such bad chickens! Why, they were worse than none, she thought, and
she would not be their mother another minute.

You will laugh, but Polly turned and went home. The chickens follro-ed. but
she drove them back. They peeped, and she pecked them with her bill. They
were hungry, but she gave them no dinner or supper. When night came
she would not take them under her wing, but went to roost with some
other hens on a pole in the
barn. The poor little chickens
felt sorry, but she never, never
forgave them for -not learning to
swim! And so they had to grow
up without any mother. Don't
you think this is a droll story?
And -wasn't Polly very bright
for: a hen, with a head not as


big as a walnut?







THE STORY OF THE WICKED HIPPOPOTAMUS.


I have no great love for
a crocodile, and none for a
hippopotamus. But I like
o' to see justice done in all
Cases, and I will leave it to
the youngest of my readers
S---to say whether the crocodile
was not justified in wreaking
dire vengeance on one who had tried to exterminate an
-entire household, even of crocodiles. It was in this wise:
The mother crocodile had buried her eggs in the sand, and
then gone to enjoy a plunge in the river near by. While
she was disportingin the water, and thinking of her little
family that was to
be, -along came a
wickedyounghippo- -
potamus to the place '
where the eggs were
buried in the hot
sand. "Ah, ha," said
the unwieldy hippo-
potamus, "crocodile A-







eggs, eh! Now I'll have some fun while the mother isn't
at hand to interfere."
Then he dug up the eggs and broke them open. But
he was too late. The warm sun had done its work, and
seven little crocodiles crawled out into life and began to
look around them. The huge beast was astonished; this















was not what he had expected. But, having destroyed the
eggs, he was determined to get rid of the brood which had
thus suddenly come to view. One he soon caught and
crushed to death. But infant crocodiles are nimble, and
each little fellow began to make towards the river, instinct
telling them that there was safety.







And speedy help was near also. The mother, scenting
danger in the air, or else alarmed by the appearance of the
hippopotamus so close to her home, hurried to the rescue
of her children. Unseen and unheard she hastens to the
spot. All unconscious of her quick approach, the hippo-
potamus is enjoying his deadly work. He laughs aloud
and riots in his mischief. But it is his last laugh, and never-
more will he invade the precincts of a crocodile's haunt.
There is a singing in the air, like the coming of the dread
sirocco. No power on earth can avert the doom of the
hippopotamus. A shadow falls upon the scene. It is the
uplifted tail of the wrathful crocodile, as with one mighty
sweep she lifts the huge hippopotamus into the air, and lands
him on the very top of one of Egypt's largest pyramids.
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YOUNG ARTISTS.

These wee ones are artists. Joan has just drawn some:trees. Dorothy
says they look like mops, and are lying down flat on each side of the paper.
The other picture, by Dorothy, represents Joan herself; but the likeness is not
a good one, and the hands and feet are too expressive. After the children had
wandered -away into the garden to have a good time, I took both drawings
and here they are for you.to look at. Each of them requires a good deal of
explaining, but the artists are young yet, and after a while they will do better.
Perhaps some of my little readers will say there is room for improvement.


LITTLE SAMBO AND THE BUTTERMILK PAIL.


THE BUTTERMILK PAIL AND LITTLE SAMBO.









THREE YEARS OLD.
THE LITTLE MOTHER.

"OH, hush, my baby, hushaby!"
Croons Ethel, in the sunset glow.
Close to her dimpled shoulder pressed,
She soothes her dolly into rest,
Soft rocking to and fro.

The restless little feet are still;
Grave now, and sweet, the laughing eyes;
All motherly in look and tone
She sits and rocks and sings alone,
While red the daylight dies.

"Oh, hushaby, my baby, hush I"
She draws a sleepy little sigh;
On Dolly's cheek of faded red
Low drops the sunny, tired head-
"Oh, hush, oh, hushaby "

The song is ended in a dream;
Across her face the sunbeams creep,
While Dolly's eyes wide open stare.
The little mother, unaware,
Has sung herself to sleep


,"









THREE YEARS OLD.









TOMMY AND THE SNAKE.


Did you ever see a squirrel's nest, built in a high tree ? A
large, rough nest, made of sticks and leaves, with shells of
nuts and acorns, and all sorts of things inside that have been
bitten through by little sharp teeth. There was one of these'nests
in a tall pine on the creek side, near a log cabin, where a little
black boy lived. He had watched the squirrels
a long time, and wanted to take out the little
ones when they were big enough for him to
Raise them. Little Tommy was always
hunting, for nests of birds or squirrels,
or any other nests he could find. He
never wore any shoes or hat, and his
clothes were very ragged; but he could
climb any tree, clinging on with hands
and knees.- One day Alfred, a white boy -
Sof about his own age, showed him a
silver quarter. "I will give you :this,"
he said,- "if you will bring me a live
squirrel for a pet." "Yes, I will," said
Tommy., "I know a nest up de pine
tree on de creek side. -I will take de
W old one out by her neck, and bring you
a young quirl." Tommy could not say "- squirrel," so he called it
"quirl," and he did not talk as little boys and girls ought to talk.
He said "de" instead of "the," and a great many other wrong
words. He climbed up the tall, straight tree. When he reached









the branch where the nest was, he swung himself up, and leaned
over to see whether the old squirrel was there. He knew how the
sharp teeth could bite. Though his hands were hard and rough,
he would not put them into the nest without
looking. What do you think his eager
black eyes saw, instead of the soft young
squirrels? A long black snake raised its
head and glided out of the nest. Tommy
did not wait to look again, but slid
down the tree so fast that he
nearly fell to the
ground. Hewas
so frightened
that he lay quite
still for several
minutes. When
he looked up, he
saw that the
snake had only
stretched itself
out on the
branch, and
did not want
to stir either.
Tommy fled
away as fast
as he could,
and told his










father what he had seen. I am very much afraid that Alfred will
never get his pet squirrel, for Tommy says he will not climb'
another tree to get a dozen squirrels. -He did not know before
that snakes swallow squirrels when-they can find them.

THE MERRY WHISTLER.
THE MEEEYT WHISTLE.


A merry little whistler
Goes by my door each, day;
He whistles at his work, and
He whistles at his play.
He whistles when he's merry,
He whistles when he's sad;
He whistles when the weather's fine,
He whistles when.it's bad.


Of all the little children
Who daily pass my 'door,
There's none that seemeth happier,
Or gives me pleasure more
Than the merry little whistler_
Who charm-s my care awayy.:
I almost wish I too could learn-:
To whistle and be gay.


.' .- .'. .


"




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