Front Cover
 Title Page
 Holiday fun
 Back Cover

Group Title: Holiday fun : profusely illustrated
Title: Holiday fun
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00086598/00001
 Material Information
Title: Holiday fun profusely illustrated
Physical Description: 1 v. (unpaged) : ill. (some col.) ; 26 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Roe, E. T ( Editor )
Donohue, Henneberry & Co ( Publisher )
Donohue & Henneberry
Publisher: Donohue, Henneberry & Co.
Place of Publication: Chicago
Manufacturer: Donohue & Henneberry, printers and binders
Publication Date: c1897
Subject: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Picture books for children   ( lcsh )
Youth -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Family recreation -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Country life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Seasons -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Holidays -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Christmas -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Honesty -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Friendship -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Happiness -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Vacations -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Family -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Animals -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Birds -- Juvenile fiction.655 0Children's stories -- 1897   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1897   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1897   ( lcsh )
Fantasy literature -- 1897   ( rbgenr )
Juvenile literature -- 1897   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1897
Genre: Children's stories
Children's poetry
Fantasy literature   ( rbgenr )
Juvenile literature   ( rbgenr )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Illinois -- Chicago
Statement of Responsibility: edited by E.T. Roe.
General Note: Pictorial cover.
General Note: Includes prose and verse.
General Note: Frontispiece printed in colors.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00086598
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002223813
notis - ALG4066
oclc - 39726205

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
    Title Page
        Page 4
        Page 5
    Holiday fun
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
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        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
    Back Cover
        Page 98
        Page 99
Full Text




C- $7


The Bald*in Litbrar.

'*J\ll'JD Lnu~nj.








1. T. RO0

S 407-429 Dearborn St.




Christmas Day and the joy-bells ring,
With a merry, merry swing,
Telling of the Savior born
On the first glad Christmas morn--
Whisp'ring, Sing as now sing we;
Raise your voices gleefully !
Sing sing !
While we ring !
Raise your voices gleefully I
Noel, Noel; peal the bells;
Echo, too, the glad truth tells,
Clashing back from every hill
" Peace on earth, to men good will;"
Whispering, Come with mirth and glee;
Raise your voices merrily;
Sing, sing;
Raise your voices merrily."

Sing a song of Christmas
Pockets full of gold ;
Plums and.cakes for Polly's stocking,
More than it can hold.
Pudding in the great pot,
Turkey on the spit,
Merry faces round the fire-
Sorry ? not a bit!
Sing a song of Christmas !
Carols in the street,
Bundles going home with people,
Everywhere we meet.
Holly, fir and spruce boughs
Green upon the wall,
Spotless snow along the road,
More going to fall.

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What a jolly time the boys are having there in
the snow. It looks as if the little fellows in the
cart were having the best of the snowball battle.
But who can tell? It may be that their supply of
-snowballs-will give out pretty soon, and then look
out for fun! The boys "on the other side" will
attempt to take the fort by storm. That is to say,
they will make a grand rush for the cart and try
to drive the boys who are holding the fort out
onto even ground.
The. dog looks on as though he were wishing he
could take a hand in the fight. But he knows very
well that his paws are not fitted for forming snow-
balls, or for throwing them when made. When
the fort shall have been stormed, however, and its
occupants put to flight, it is very likely that the
dog .will join in the rout, and, by yelping and bark-
ing, help very much towards creating a panic
among the enemy, and thus insure a complete vic-
tory on the part of the boys attacking the fort,
Of course, it is all only fun, and the boys on both
sides of the sham battle are. the best of friends.
May the bravest boys win!


1~--~6- - - -a



Boys who live where there are no mountains
near know nothing of the enjoyment there is in
mountain climbing. But boys who live in moun-
tainous regions understand very well how much
pleasure and health are to be derived from the
exercise of climbing the sides of lofty hills and
The boys in the picture are out for an all-day
climb among the mountains of Switzerland. They
are not used to mountain climbing, for they are
American boys who have lived all their lives in
an Iowa town, far from any mountains, or even
high hills. Their parents have taken them with
them on a.trip through Switzerland, and the boys
are making the most of their opportunity to enjoy
themselves among the magnificent Swiss moun-
tains. The old experienced guide watches them
very carefully to prevent any accident befalling
them, for well he knows that a single misstep
might cause their fall down some deep chasm in
the mountain. The boys seem to understand the
danger that besets them, and are moving along
with great caution. They will have exciting stories
to tell when they return to their prairie land home.


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Mother, how I love to go
Stamping through the powdery snow,;
Catching white flakes as they fall,
Rolling up a good big ball !
I pity children far away
Who never have a frosty day;
How they would like to see the sight
Of streets and squares all glittering white !"
Says mother, Stay a moment, dear;
The boy who swept the crossing here
Is lying sick upon his bed,
His sister does the work instead.
Poor girl! her joys are very few,
Her food is poor, her clothing too.
We'll give her, ere we turn away,
A penny on this frosty day."

One hour in all the year is sweet,
And passing sweet the rest beside;
When loving friends, long parted, meet,
And hearts with wealth of welcome beat
At Christmas-tide.
Dear Christmas eve when love is strong,
And strife and falsehood pass away,
And kindly actions round us throng,
And memories of ancient wrong
Die out for aye.
And yet in this wide world I know
There' must be always some who grieve,
Who all unloved, unloving go,
Or sit enthroned amid their woe
On Christmas eve.
God grant to hearts thus overcast
Such love and joy as we receive,
That, free from spectres .of the past,
They, too, may find sweet peace at last,
On Christmas eve.



I presume that most any small boy can tell what
the boys in the picture are doing. That they are
playing "leap frog" is plain to be seen. They live
in the country and have been to town to help the
town people celebrate the Fourth of July.
You will notice that one of the boys has nb hat
on his head, and perhaps you would like to know
what has become of it. Look under his arm and
you will get a glimpse of what there is left of it, the
rest of the hat is missing. And this is. how it
happened: While the boys were in town each of
them bought several packs of firecrackers and fired
them off on the public square. One of the boys
placed a pack of lighted firecrackers under his hat,
just to see what they would do. The result was
a very sad one for the hat, for it was so blackened,
and scorched, and burnt full of holes, that it was
no longer fit to wear. The boy don't seem to care
much about it, however, and is having as good a
time on the way home as the other boys. What
there is left of his hat he has stuffed into his coat
pocket and'is hoping that "mother" will be able to
fix it all right when he gets home.

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F or- 77W

He ran in a hole
Right under the house,
And lay there as still-
As still as a mouse.

" Well, I don't care,"
Said the boy in blue;
" I'll shoot a robin,and
Bring him down, too."

"Do," cried the cat;
"That will be nice,
And I will crunch all
His bones in a trice."

The blue boy took aim
But aimed not aright,
Or, like cock-sparrow,
He "shot in a fright."

The robin he missed,
But killed the old cat;
His grandmother gave him
A thrashing for that.

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The mother of the little girls and boy you see in
the picture the he opposite page has gone to the
city to do some shopping. In order to keep her
little ones out of mischief while she is gone, she
told Effie, the oldest, that they might have a little
party out in the yard. Of course Effie knew what
that meant, not a real, "sure-enough" party, but a.
"just-make-believe" one, you know. Having made
a table by placing a board on two old kegs, Effie
covered it over with a cloth and began to make
cake. She had no flower, or sugar, or eggs; and
so had to use something else in place of them.
Little Alice gathered up several handfuls of sand,
which Effie said would do for both sugar and
flour; and then Effie poured in some water, and
said it would do for eggs. Alice was old enough
to know that this was only play, but little Eddie
looked on the whole matter as downright earnest,
and when Effie placed his share of the cake at his
place on the table the little fellow was actually
going to eat it. This amused his sisters very much*,
and when Eddie finally understood the matter
he enjoyed the fun as much as the others.

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Merrily, ho !
Off we go
O'er the white and crusted snow
Stars shining bright,
Hearts dancing light!
Hear our music softly flow:-
" Dangers now we bravely dare;
Swiftly, with no thought of care,
Down we go!
Merrily O!
Through the frosty air."

Little fairy snowflakes
Dancing in the flue;
Old Mr. Santa Claus,
What is keeping you ?
Twilight and firelight
Shadows come and go;
Merry chime of sleigh-bells
Twinkling through the snow;
Mother's knitting stockings,
Pussy's got the ball ;
Don't you think that winter's
Pleasanter than all ?





How easy it is to be happy and have a good
time, if one only tries. Edith and Millie Ains-
worth were two little girls who once thought they
could not enjoy themselves very much in the world
because their papa was not able to afford them a
pony. Effie Nelson, a little playmate of theirs
who lived next door, had a pretty little Shetland
pony, and Edith and Millie used to make them-
selves perfectly miserable wishing it were theirs.
One day their mother told them that she was going
to the woods near by, and if they wished to- go
with her they might do so, and enjoy themselves
floating little boats in the brook which ran through
the woods.
"Floating little boats?" queried Edith. "But
we haven't any boats to float, and she looked quite
puzzled. Her mother soon enlightened her, how-
ever, by producing two hard-boiled eggs, which she
carefully opened lengthwise, and took out the con-
tents without breaking the shells. She then fasten-
ed to the narrow end of each shell a long piece of
thread. Would you believe it? The little girls
came home from the woods that afternoon declaring
that they had had the jolliest fun of their lives
sailing those egg-shell boats.

I U .

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It is wonderful how ingenious some boys are in
the matter of making kites, and the most wonderful
,thing about it is that they just pick up the knack of
the business themselves, without any one showing
them how.
Most any nine-year-old boy can make a kite that
will fly. He seems to know instinctively just how
to fix the hangers and tail, so that the kite will bal-
ance properly and float gracefully in the air.
But some boys seem to be specially gifted in the
matter of- making kites, and it is wonderful what
fine work they can do at the business.
Paul Jeffries was one of these specially gifted
boys. ,With a large newspaper, a couple of pine
sticks, a jack knife, a pot of paste, a piece of string,
some small nails,*a hammer and a little paint,, he-
could make a handsome high-flying kite on very
short notice. The other boys of his neighborhood
finding him to be such a good hand at it, employed
him to make their kites, and the picture shows
several of the boys admiring a fine bow-kite that
Paul has just completed for one of them. Isn't it
a beauty ?

I -I



As on the night before this blessed morn
A troop of angels unto shepherds told,
Where, in a stable, He was poorly born
Whom nor the earth nor heav'n ofheav'ns can hold;
Through Bethlem rung
The news of their return;
Yea, angels sung
That God with us was born;
And they made mirth because we should not mourn.
His love, therefore, O let us all confess,
And to the sons of men His work express !
This favor Christ vouchsafed for our sake-
To buy.us thrones, He in a manger lay;
Our weakness took, that we H is strength might take,
And was disrob'd that He might us array.
Our flesh He wore,
Our sins to wear away;
Our curse He bore
That we escape it may,
And wept for us, that we might sing for aye.
His love, therefore, 0 let us all confess,
And to the sons of men His work express.


310. 1

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Minnie and Willie Gray were the children of an
old fisherman who lived near the sea. Their
mother had died when they were mere "tots," and
as their father was absent from home most of the
rime engaged in fishing, Minnie and Willie had
to look out for themselves as best they could.
Many a happy day they spent at the sea-shore
picking up shells and whatever little objects of
interest that were washed up onto the sand by the
One bright, sunny summer day as they were
strolling along the shore they found a dead bird
lying on the sand. They stopped and gazed at
the poor lifeless thing for some little while, wonder-
ing if it had perished in a storm, or been ruthlessly
killed by some heartless hunter. Willie at last
discovered a place where a bullet had pierced its
body, and he said to his sister, "It reminds me of
a little verse mamma taught me to repeat," and at
his sister's request he recited it. The last stanza
I'd rather be a dog or a cat,.
Or the meanest kind of a big gray rat,
Than an ugly man with a dog and gun,
Who shot a birdie just for fun.


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SI wonder if any boy ever grew to be a man with-.
out having enjoyed the fun of rolling snowballs.
Yes, and I wonder too, if there ever lived a woman
who never rolled snowballs and helped the boys
make snowforts when they were little girls. If
there are any such men or women in the world to-
day they have missed a great deal more enjoyment
in life than they know of. Just look at the picture
on the opposite page and you can't help but see the
intensest enjoyment, the jolliest fun beaming from
the faces of the four boys and their little girl helper
engaged in rolling the big ball of snow. Oh, what
fun! One of the boys is a little late on the scene,
but you can almost imagine that you hear his merry
shout ringing out on the frosty air: "Hurrah!
there, boys! Heave away! heave away! Roll'er
as big as a mountain." In another instant he is
with them, and in a little while after the ball of
snow, which when started was no bigger than a
boy's fist, has grown so large that the combined
strength of the four boys and their little girl helper
is insufficient to budge it an any farther.

* ,.


- I


One fourth of July morning Tommy Stebbins was invited by his
cousin, Harry Ainsworth, to come out to his house and spend the day.
Harry lived near a large park, and he told his cousin Tommy that
there were lots" of boys there to play with, and they would have a
high time on the 4th. When Tommy arrived at the park he found
that the high time Harry spoke of consisted in walking on stilts.
You may guess from the picture that the boys who really enjoyed
the high time did not include Tommy, who was unused to the sport
and had to lean up against the park wall to save himself from a fall.
A few extra packs of firecrackers, however, made matters all right in
the evening,


We put him to bed in his little nightgown,
The worst battered youngster there was in the town;
Yet he said, as he opened the only well eye :
'Rah, 'rah, for the jolly old Fourth of July !"
Two thumbs and eight fingers with lint were tied up,
On his head was a lump like an upsidedown cup,
And his smile was distorted, his nose all awry,
From the joys of the glorious Fourth of July.
We were glad; he had started abroad with the sun,
And all day he had lived in the powder and fun;
While the boom of the cannon roared up to the sky,
To salute young America's Fourth of July.
I said we were glad all the pieces were there,
As we plastered and bound them with the tenderest care
,But out of the wreck came the words with a sigh:
If to-morrow was only the Fourth of July !"
He will grow all together again, never fear,
And be ready to celebrate freedom next year;
Meanwhile all his friends are most thankful there lies
A crackerlbss twelvemonth twixtt Fourth of Julys.
We kissed him good-night on his powder-specked face,
We laid his bruised hands softly down in their place,
And he murmured, as sleep closed his one open eye:
C~ I wish every day was the Fourth of July ;


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The two little girls you see in the picture have
been playing all day long in the city park, and as
the day has been quite warm and dusty, it is no
great wonder that they and their dumb companions
are thirsty. The little girls have already taken a
drink and now the younger one is holding up her
little favorite, Fido, so that her sister can give him
a drink from the cup. As you will notice, the cup
is fastened to a chain which is not long enough to
admit of Fido's drinking without someone lifting
him up. Old Rover, however, is tall enough to
drink from the cup without being lifted, and he is
patiently waiting for Fido to get through drinking
so that he can quench his thirst also. It is quite
slow work for Fido to get enough to satisfy his
thirst for he has to lap the water a little at a time
with his tongue. The little girl looks as though
she were getting pretty tired holding him in her
arms, and her sister is smiling to see how serious a
matter she makes of it. Rover waits very patiently
for his turn to come, and does not appear to be at
all offended because he was made to, wait.

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Now he who knows old Christmas
He knows a care of worth;
For he is as good a fellow.
As any upon earth !
He comes warm-cloak'd and coated,
And button'd up to chin;
And soon as he comes a-nigh the door,
'Twill open and let him in.
We know that he will not fail us,
So we sweep the hearth up clean ;
We set him the old arm-chair,
And a cushion whereon to lean.
And with sprigs of holly and ivy
We make the house look gay;
Just out of an old regard to him,-
For it was his ancient way.
He comes with a cordial voice,
I hat does one good to hear;
lie shakes one heartily by the hand,
As he hath done many a year.
And after the little children
He asks in a cheerful tone,
Jack, Kate, and little Annie,-
He remembers them every one.
What a fine old fellow he is !
With his faculties all as clear,
And his heart as warm and light,
As a man in his fortieth year!
What a fine old fellow in truth,
Not one of your griping elves,
Who, with plenty of money to spare,
Think only about themselves.
Not he for he loveth the children,
And holiday begs for all;
And comes with his pockets full of gifts,
For the great ones and the small!
And he tells us witty old stories;
And singeth with might and main;
And we talk of the old man's visit
Till the day that he comes again.



._- .._
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Not long ago little Nellie had a present of a
black lamb. Nellie was crying when the lamb
came. Her mamma had gone to ride, and had
taken one child with her; she could take but one
at a time. So Nellie and the others whose turn
it was to stay at home stood on the terrace with
tearful eyes, watching mamma out of sight.
Just then a man came into the yard with the
lamb. Nellie and the other children did not cry
any more, you may be sure. The black lamb was
a very little thing; it had a line of white about its
neck and feet, like a collar and cuffs.
The children called it "a beauty," and "a
darling," and jumped up and down around it for
joy. Pretty soon the lamb did so too, jumping up
and down on its little legs, stiffly but joyfully. It
grew very fond of Nellie, and would follow her
about all day. By and by lambie grew large, and
he took a fancy to dance a stately minuet on the
baby whenever it toddled out on the lawn. So
Nellie's mother had to send him off to her hus-
band's farm, some miles from town. Poor little
Nellie sadly missed her little playmate, and her
little heart was full of grief.


", Lt' r' r







Early to bed and early to rise,
Made little Caroline healthy and wise.
Up in the morning she rose with the sun,
And did not play till her work was done.
Her happy face and her merry song,
Made joy and sunshine all day long.
She helped her mother about the house;
A.d while baby slept was still as a mouse.
She studied her little books with care,
And learned the lessons set her there.
At the table she knew she must not be rude,
So waited patiently for her food.
Though poor herself, to the poor she gave,
For a little money she could save.
So she was loved by great and small,
For she was good and kind to all.


If you your lips
Would keep from slips,
Five things observe with care-
Of whom you speak,
To whom you speak,
And how, and when, and where.
If you your ears
Would save from jeers.
These things keep mildly hid-
Myself and I,"
And "mine" and my,"
And how I" do or did.



Effie Elkin's mamma bought her a bran new
doll last Christmas, and I wish you could have seen
it before Effie's pet kittens, Tom and Kitsie, got a
hold of it. No lady was ever dressed finer, and
Effie declared it to be "just perfectly be-u-tiful."
But one Sunday morning Effie, in her hurry to
get off to Sunday-school, forgot to put dolly away,
and those mischievous kittens, while romping about
the house discovered it lying on the sitting-room
floor by the side of its little crib. And what did
those mischievous kittens do but climb in and out
of dolly's little crib until they became tired of that
innocent amusement, and then began tearing away
at dolly's beautiful clothes until they were all torn
to shreds. Poor Effie almost cried her eyes out
when she came home and discovered what Tom
and Kitsie had done to her beautiful Christmas
doll. Fortunately there were no bones broken,
and Effie's mamma soon had a new dress made for
her. But it was not nearly so nice as the one
Tom and Kitsie destroyed, yet you may believe
that Effie took better care to keep it out of the
way of the mischievous kittens.


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'Twas the night after Christmas, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, excepting a mouse
That had crept through the wainscot to nibble the crumbs
The children had scattered with fngers and thumbs.
And mamma with a headache, and I with a cough.
Had just gone to bed, to sleep them both off,
When there came from the nursery such a strange noise.
Mamma whispered softly, "That's some of the boys !"
I sprang from my pillow, and sped like a flash,
Exclaiming, in anger, "I'll settle their hash !"
When what to my listening ears should uprise
But a chorus of groans, and of moans, and of sighs.
From the six little beds that stood all in a row
'Gainst the wall, faintly lit by the candle's soft glow,
There was Tom, Bill and Harry, Bob, Mamie and Dick.
I knew in a moment that they were quite sick !
For, stuffed with plum pudding, pie, turkey and cake,
Each in anguish cried out I've a terrible ache r
I called for mamma, and without more ado,
Away for the family doctor I flew.
His round face was ruddy, his stomach was large,
But small when compared with the fee he would charge;
He felt of each pulse, at each tongue took a look,
And said: I can read the whole thing like a book.
For gorging themselves they deserve a good wallop,
But I'll cure them, don't fear, with a measure of jalap."
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
Straight to a big bottle of physic he goes;
To each gives a dose, says "they'll soon be all right;"
Hands his bill with a flourish, and bids me "good-night."



Dick Raymond was eleven years old, and yet
Wesley Rogers, his schoolmate, who was only nine,
could beat him writing, spelling and figuring.
Dick was not deficient in intellect, but was inclined
to be indolent, and neglected his studies at school
to such an extent that the boys gave him the name
of Dull Dick." But Dick was not dull, for when
he brought his mind to it he could learn his lesson
as quick as the brightest boy at school. The
trouble was to get him to bring his mind to bear
upon his lessons, for it seemed to prefer dwelling
on anything else than his studies. While his seat
mate, Wesley Rogers, was busy working out a
problem in their arithmetic lesson, Dick would be
hard at work drawing figures on the wall--a differ-
ent kind of figures though from those Wesley was
making on his slate. Then when Wesley had
about completed the working of his problem Dick
would slyly glance over his shoulder and copy it
onto his slate. But when the teacher asked him
to explain how it was worked the trick was ex-
posed, and his schoolmates had a good laugh at
his discomfiture..



Lucy lived in Virginia, and had ducks and
chickens which she fed every day. One morning
a sad sight met her eyes. She had gone out very
early to feed her pets, and went first to the duck
lot. The old black woman who took care of the
fowls met her at the door.
"Just look here, honey," she said, and, pointing
within, showed Lucy three or four little ducks
with their throats cut. Twelve chickens lay dead
in the hen-house, and poor Lucy did not know
what to think.
O, auntie! What did it? What killed them ?"
she asked, beginning to cry.
"The weasel, honey," answered the old black
woman; "it comes in the night, and cuts their
throats, just to drink the blood. It does not eat
the fowls."
When Lucy went to the house to tell what had
happened she heard more about weasels. Her
uncle told her that this little brown animal is so
slender that it can slip through very small open-
ings. It destroys a great many fowls in a single
night to obtain their blood.
I wish we could catch this one," said poor
little Lucy. M. T. H.



The children sing a carol clear,
On early Christmas morn,
Because it is the day on which
Our Savior, Christ, was born.

The wondrous story o'er they tell,
Of the dear Savior's birth:
Of how the angels came to say
That peace should reign on earth;

Of how the wise men traveled far
The infant Christ to see,
In the poor manger, where he lay
Upon his mother's knee.

And so at break of Christmas day
They sing their carol sweet;
And ask a Christmas blessing
From, every one they meet.
F. H. S.

!-.,x d

P iP



Little Brown Bess on her milk-white mare,
Rides all day long in the fresh spring air-
Rides fast and free, with never a care,
Does little brown Bess.

She dashes by at break of day,
A flash of black hair, then of gray,
A smile thrown back. Not a moment to stay
Has little brown Bess.

A child's small hand guides the milk-white steed,
Of bridle and saddle there is no need,
While over the prairie, at fearful speed,
Goes little brown Bess.

The little maid has no thought of fear,
Though only this great white horse be near,
For of human friends there are none more dear
To little brown Bess.

Many years ago, one wintry night,
In the midst of a terrible Indian fight,
To the fort, in a wild and dangerous flight,
Came little brown Bess.

She was bound to the back of the faithful mare,
Which had flown like the wind, not a second to spare,
Then dropped at our feet with her burden rare,
Our little brown Bess.

~-'~ P





It stands in the corner of Grandma s room;
From the ceiling it reaches the floor;
" Tick-tock," it keeps saying the whole day long,
Tick-tock," and nothing more.

Grandma says the clock is old, like herself;
But dear Grandma is wrinkled and gray,
While the face of the clock is smooth as my hand,
And painted with flowers so gay.

Backwards and forwards, this way and that,
You can see the big pendulum rock:
Tick-tock," it keeps saying the whole day long,
"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock !"

The clock never sleeps, and its hands never rest
As they slowly go moving around;
And it strikes the hours with a ding, ding, ding,
Ding, ding, and a whirring sound.

I wonder if this is the same old clock
That the mousie ran up in the night,
And played hide-and-seek till the clock struck one,
And then ran down in a fright.

Backwards and forwards, this way and that,
You can see the big pendulum rock :
Tick-tock," it keeps saying the whole day long.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock !"



A dozen little boys and girls,
With sun-browned'cheeks and flaxen curls
Stood in a row one day, at school,
And each obeyed the teacher's rule.
Bright eyes were on their open books,
Outside the sunny orchard nooks
Sent fragrant breezes through the room
To whisper of the summer's bloom.

A busy hum of voices rose,
The morning lesson neared its close,
When" tap, tap, tap," upon the floor
Made every eye turn to the door.
A little calf that wandered by,
Had chanced the children there to spy,
And trotted in to join the class,
Much to the joy of lad and lass.

Their A B, Ab, and B A, Ba,
It heard, and solemnly did say :
Baa Baa 1" then scampered to the green,
And never since in school has been.
Those girls and boys soon learned to spell
And read and write; but who can tell'
How great that little calf became ?
It may be, now, a cow of fame !
Or was that Baa all that it knew ?
I think it must have been. Don't you ?

A little calf that wandered by
Had chanced the children there to spy,
And trotted in to join the class,
Much to the joy of lad and lass.


Little Carrie Marcum was the daughter of the
village Miller, and she loved to romp in the
meadow near her father's old mill or ramble
through the shady woods along the banks of the
little stream which turned the great wheel of the
mill. In the pleasant summer weather she would
spend many a happy hour gathering flowers in the
meadow or woods and sit for a long time in some
shady nook by the brook-side wreathing them into
garlands or making them up into beautiful
Once when she had gathered her little apron
full of the choicest flowers to be found in the
meadow and woods, she went to her father's mill
and asked to be weighed. When her father was
getting the scales ready she said, Papa, isn't it
funny that you did not notice that I have my apron
full of flowers If you weigh me and the flowers
together you can't tell how much is me and how
much is flowers."
Mr. Marcum smiled pleasantly and said, Well,
Carrie, we'll weigh girl and flowers together first,
and then the flowers separately. Can you tell me
how I can then determine your weight ? "
"Subtract the flowers' weight from mine,"
replied Carrie. It was done. There were thirty-
two pounds of girl and one pound of flowers.

--r-.1 jr/4



A flash of light, a merry hum,
And peals. of rippling laughter sweet:
The pattering of tiny feet,
And, lo, the little children come.
A stately fir-tree rears its head,
With stars and tapers all ablaze;
And quivering in the fairy rays,
The glittering, loaded branches spread.
And childish eyes are sparkling bright,
And childish hearts with joy o'erflow,
And on that Birthday long ago,
They ponder with a grave delight.
Then to their gifts they turn once more,
And in the present sunshine lost,
They fear no future tempest-tossed,
But unto fairy regions soar.
No cares, no fears, a happy time
Of laughter : tears that can not stay;
An April day, a year of May,
Pealed in and out with Christmas chime


_1 i i :!ii
I I!

i '



Little Willie, why so silly ?
Can't you come and play ?
Merry boys with pretty toys
May pass a happy day.

But Willie stands, with idle hands,
And cares not for the fun;
He wants to be a man, that he
May use his papa's gun.

Now children dear, remember here,
That God made youth for play,
With books to read, and sports to heed,
Enjoy them while you may.

Mx W.


fHY is Mary so happy
Beneath the shade of yon tree,
Around her blooming swee- grassy
Her picture-book on her knee ?

I think I can give you the reason-
At least it was told to me,
That Mary had won the prize at school,
Not for learning, but cou tesy.

Kind to her teachers and playmates,
Sweet-spoken, and tender, thus she
Wins all hearts by her loving words
And her gentle charity.

Well may our Mary be happy,
Well may she laugh with glee
At the merry stories her prize contains,
As she sits beneath the tree.

Ah, sweet is the golden summer,
And sweet the bright world I see;
But sweeter than all the sweet 6f the earth
Is a loving child to me.


HAD a little hobby horse,
And it was dapple gray;
Its head was made of pea straw,
Its tail was made of hay.

I sold it to an old woman
For a copper groat;
And I'll not sing my song agate
Without a new coat.


-= --


I wonder if the lambs so gay
Are dancing to the tunes you play?
It's true they do not skip by rule,
But they've not been to dancing school.

Just play a quickstep. Now you see
How quick they step! How light and free!
Or, do you play the tuneful pipe
Solely for your own delight ?
In any case I think that you
Have most pleasant work to do:
To tend to flock will make you kind1
And music will improve your mind.



.......--- 1)



B OTH Rover the dog, and Oswald, his
master's little son, look rather uncom-
fortable. Rover is ready to spring forward;
but he feels that Oswald is leaning against
him, so he keeps still against his will, giving
a short loud bark from time to time.
Oswald-who is a kind-hearted boy-has
been for some time past collecting a heap
of dry sticks that were lying under the trees
in the park; this wood has been given to
some poor cottagers who live near, and who
have sent their children to carry it away.
If Oswald were not sure Rover would stay,
he would hold him tight. Rover supposes
he must guard his master's property, and
does not think the children ought to take
uway the wood.




Jill\~\rU R\\\\~\i\ lu ~ ""`l~

COUNTRY lad :having taken the
nest of some blackbirds containing
young ones, made off with it, but was closely
pursued by the parents, who tried to peck
his face so as to make him give them up.
Mr..Jesse relates a similar instance, where a
pair of old birds followed a boy into a house,
pecking at his head while he was carrying
off one of their young ones. People little
think of the misery they cause when they
"ob the birds of their nestlings.

The bird's nest is thus described:

Now put together odds and encs,
Picked up from enemies and friends:
See bits of thread and bits of rag,
Just like a little rubbish bag.

rgl~\ \\l





f HEN the task of the day has bee.
conquered, I turn [below.
Toward my snug nest in the valley
Where, attuned by the fairies, a light-hearted
Forever makes music, and rare blossoms

But a cluster of blossoms more rare I behold,
As the sound of my footfall awakens a shout,
And with cheeks red as sunrise and locks
bright as gold,
A brave troop of youngsters comes hurrying

Every sense of fatigue is forgotten, or flies,.
The instant those dear ones are thronging
And full oft a warm tear or two steals to rn
The tear not of sorrow, but pleasure pro.


if h U'

HEY have toiled in the fields till set
of sun;
And now, when work for the day is done.
Mother calls her girls and boys to her side,
While Johnnie, the youngest, is given a ride.

The barrow he sits in is full of grass,
Which will make. a meal for the patient ass,
Who has been with father all the day,
Dragging a burden of heavy clay.

This family all work hard for their bread,
Glad to be thus well sheltered and fed;
Yet sometimes are merry, and so then a song
They are singing now as they walk along.

And Johnnie, who sits there riding in state,
Stretches his hand out to sister Kate;
She loves him dearly, and so when he
Asked for one flower she gave him three.



USSY, with your coat of silk,
Come and get a drink of milk;
It is better food by far
Than the robin-redbreasts are.

Let them soar and let them sing,
And tit-bits to their young ones bring.
Your killing birds I can't approve,
For they were only made to love.

What would your young kittens do
If some one did the same by you?
But do not fly into a huff,
For if good milk is not enough-

As I have not the slightest wish
To try and -keep you to one dish-
To show you I am not precise
I recommend you rats and mice.

11 i j!.Iii Ii




'~- URRA, here's the snow!" cried Bertie
one day as he looked out of the window
j- and saw the big flakes come tumbling
down one after the other. "It looks just as
if somebody was throwing down feathers,"
said Ella. "Let us make a snow man," cried
Freddie, who is the oldest. So they ran to
ask mamma if they could go. She said they
might; and so, after wrapping up Ella, they
started out. Bertie took his spade and made a
path for Ella. Then Bertie and Freddie began
to make a ball, and rolled it around the garden
until it was quite large. Then Freddie made
eyes, nose, and mouth in it, and so made a
snow man's head. In the picture you can see
Bertie putting a sprig of holly in its mouth,
while Freddie is sticking a flag,' made out of
his handkerchief, into the top. What a jolly-
looking snow -man it is! And what fun the
children have had! But now they must run.
home, for mamma is calling, and supper is
ready; and the snow man must be left alone
until to-morrow.

~ ~~

~ ~




H AS my daughter heard a tale
That happened long ago,
Of a little girl who strayed away,
And was lost amid the snow?
They sought her all the weary night,
They sought till dawn of day,
Then, with sad steps and heavy hearts,
Homeward they bent their way.

Wrapt in a shroud of pure white snow,
Beneath a tree she lay,
A little robin o'er her head
Had carolled forth all day.
The mother last of all walked slow,
Till, with a sudden start,
She found her darling in the snow,
And clasped her to her heart.
But, oh! the little hands were cold,
The bright blue eyes were dim,
I or God had taken her to his fold,
To dwell for aye with him.




ERE is a large school, at which the
boys are very happy; but it was not
always such a pleasant home 'for
{ boys, for though the masters were
'^ kind and just, a great deal that was
wrong went on in play-hours out of
their sight. But now Bernard and Godfrey
are at the head of the school, all is changed
for the better. They are fine lads, with high
principles and good dispositions; Christian boys
in deed as well as in name, who strive to live
up to the spirit of the.faith they profess. For
some time past the boys have been subscribing
for the expenses of a trip to the sea-shore, and
the master is handing over the money col-
lected to Bernard and Godfrey, who are to
make arrangements for the treat.


1 KNOW some little people who don't
like getting up early in the morning,
and when they are" called, and told to get
washed and dressed, so as to be all ready
when Papa comes down, they think it very
hard that they cannot sleep just a little
longer. Do you see this little girl on the
pony's back in the picture? This is little
Jennie; she belongs to the wide-awake band,
and gets up at six o'clock every morning;
and if it is not too rainy and wet, she goes for
a scamper in the fields, mounted on the back
of her nice, tame little pony, old Neddy. Oh,
it is so fresh and nice to be flying through the
air, and your hair spread out in the wind!
And see how Neddy is going; he seems to
erjoy it as much as Jennie. I know a great
many boys and girls who would like to have
the same pleasure.


EE that joyous finch perched on the apple tree,
all alive with buds and blossoms, spreading its
sweet odors far and wide. How happy he is
with his breakfast in his bill: nor is he alone; one of
his companions is drinking honey-dew from tb9 flow-
er-cup just below. You can almost hear the flies
buzz and bees hum. The gay butterflies, like flying
flowers, dance about in wild joy to the tune of the
happy, happy Springtime. All day long 4he music is
swelling in the fair-blossomed tree 0 sweet time!
0 fresh time 0 May time! Made for bird life, for
child life, for love life.
The wind whispers a promise that when .the bees
are all gone, when the birds fly away, the tree shall
be laden with rosy-cheeked apples, for the full blos-
soms he has shaken.


SLESSINGS on thee, little man,
C 14 Bare-foot boy with cheeks of tan.
With thy turned-up pantaloons,
And thy merry whistled tunes.

THERE sits Sailor-Jack, getting his boat ready for
a sail. He is dressed in his father's tar-jacket, and is
thinking of the time when he will be a sailor too, and
master a big ship. Never was there a braver man
than his father. You should see him reef sail and
battle with wind and wave. The lad knows how fear-
less his father is, for he has been out to sea with him
many times. His greatest desire is to be a noble
seaman, like the good old captain; only it would be
so grand to have taller masts and climb a little higher.
Success to y6u, young seafarer! Your face shows
you to be in earliest. May you be a wise pilot, and
bring your ship safely into port for many years.


HOULD you wish to hear a chattt~er tat
will almost deafen you, you must go to
the parrot-house at the arsenal in Cen-
tral Park, New York. Here you may see the
huge elephant, and the camel, "the ship of the
desert." Here are lions, tigers, leopards, and
other "great cats," growling and shaking the
iron bars of their cages, as .the keeper goes
round with his beef-barrow at feeding times.
And birds are not forgotten at the Central
Park. Here is the parrot-house, where par-
rots of all kinds, from Australia and elsewhere,
perch on their posts or swing in their rings,
and chatter and screech and scrape, and
sharpen their hooked bills; and splendid blue
and scarlet macaws and sober gray parrots
alike seem quite at home and accustomed -to
New York life, and ready to make friends with
any little American Chatterboxes who have
go+ anything eatable to give them.


IHAT though their clothes are ragged.
Their faces tanned and brown,
They need not envy, these bright ones,
The rich folks of the town.

They gather waving burdock leaves,
Or wander by the pool
To watch the titbats gliding past
Beneath the waters cool.

Chasing butterflies all day long,
Beneath the sunny sky,
And watching little lambkins white
Who for their mothers cry.

And when the sun goes down to rest,
Run to meet their father dear,
Who, tired and weary, treads along,
Watching for their welcome cheer.

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