Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Title Page
 A day's pleasure; or, Maude Raymond's...
 The ox
 A naughty boy
 The jay
 Granny's boy
 Lazy Jack
 The kestrel
 Tommy and his toys
 The fox
 Reggie and his sisters at...
 In the country
 The jackdaw
 Hidden in the snow
 The goldfinch
 Sailor and I
 The colley, or Scotch Shepherd's...
 Dick's oranges
 The water wagtail
 Nancy MacDonald
 Back Cover

Title: A day's pleasure for little people
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00054285/00001
 Material Information
Title: A day's pleasure for little people
Physical Description: 64 p. : ill. ; 23 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Lawson, Lizzie ( Illustrator )
Kerns, Miriam ( Illustrator )
Weeks, Charlotte ( Illustrator )
Weir, Harrison, 1824-1906 ( Illustrator )
George Routledge and Sons ( Publisher )
Dalziel Brothers ( Engraver )
Publisher: George Routledge and Sons
Place of Publication: London ;
New York
Publication Date: [1885?]
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1885   ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1885   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1885
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
United States -- New York -- New York
Statement of Responsibility: with illustrations by Lizzie Lawson, Miriam Kerns, Charlotte Weeks, and Harrison Weir.
General Note: Date of publication from inscription.
General Note: Illustrations engraved by Dalziel.
General Note: Publisher's advertisements on back cover.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00054285
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002223241
notis - ALG3490
oclc - 65190063

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Page i
    Half Title
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
    A day's pleasure; or, Maude Raymond's first holiday
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
    The ox
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
    A naughty boy
        Page 12
        Page 13
    The jay
        Page 14
        Page 15
    Granny's boy
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
    Lazy Jack
        Page 22
        Page 23
    The kestrel
        Page 24
        Page 25
    Tommy and his toys
        Page 26
        Page 27
    The fox
        Page 28
        Page 29
    Reggie and his sisters at the seaside
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
    In the country
        Page 33
        Page 34
    The jackdaw
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
    Hidden in the snow
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
    The goldfinch
        Page 48
        Page 49
    Sailor and I
        Page 50
        Page 51
    The colley, or Scotch Shepherd's dog
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
    Dick's oranges
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
    The water wagtail
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
    Nancy MacDonald
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
    Back Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
Full Text


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...... .. .

A Day's Pleasure.







'a's /c



.. C LOSING day,
"8 I closing day; oh, the
S n very thought of it
mi- s makes me half crazy
with delight, to
think that this is
the very last day of
"Why, Miss
"Maudie, dear, I
thought you were
so fond of school.
I'm sure your teachers will just be as pleased to get rid of you for a
while, Miss Maude. But you are surely forgetting how the time is
running on. Weren't you to be at school half an hour earlier this
"The phaeton is at the door, Miss Maude," said Emma, the
parlour-maid. "Tom says you wanted him to come round earlier
this morning."
Yes, yes; coming, coming, Emma. Now nurse, don't be cross,
there's a dear, I'm really off! "
But was the little chatterbox really off? Not a bit of it, for
in two minutes after, her head was popped in again to say,
"Remember to have a nice tea, nursie dear, in good time for the
cousins." After this she was really off, but when nurse looked out
of the window she was getting out of the phaeton, for the purpose of

----------- --- ----

S ,

6 Maude "''s First Holiday.

Saue Nj. ,.',..'s -irs Holday


pulling a rose. Back she had skipped once more to her place, and
even Tom, who was rather a solemn man, had to laugh as she held
it up for him to admire, not only the rose, but a butterfly that had
lighted on it, in the most confident
Bless her little heart," said nurse
to Emma. "She has atgood, warm
heart; but I fear she is flighty in
disposition, and that is a bad thing
for one like her."
"Well, she has a grand prospect
before her," said Emma; "for what 1
with her own mother's property, and 'i
the master coining money, as they do '
say he is, up in London, Miss Maude
will be one of the richest heiresses in
"Ah! Emma," said nurse, shaking her head, "it seems fine for
a girl like you to be rich, but it is a harder life to live out well, than
for a poor girl."
As Nurse Margaret said no more, Emma went away; and now
I must tell you a little more about Maude, and why it was that her
old nurse was anxious about her future. At her birth her mother
had died, leaving Maude the possessor of the old Grange, with many
acres of rich land round it, on which was a village with its church
and rector's house, and several farms. But as Maude often said,
she would much rather have been a very poor girl indeed, if she
could only have had her own mamma with her. She would some-
times waken in the night, and creep into old nurse's bed to ask, "Are
you quite sure, nurse dear, that my mother kissed me?" "Quite
sure," nurse would answer; and then Maude would lie close to nurse
and sob herself to sleep.
Maude was left a good deal alone in the great old mansion, for


her father was mostly in London, and only came down for a flying
visit at holiday times-not so much to see his little girl as to fill the
house with company, and to "enjoy him-
.i ii self," as Mrs. Martin the housekeeper
said; but Mrs. Martin was jealous for
'!I'll, l,' her "little lady," and annoyed that he
made no fuss about her. He showed her
.t'. ..Bfil ? little affection, indeed, and this Maude
'!!l was quick enough to see, though nurse
'''i ,, -did her best to make her believe that it
'' Ii was just the same with all papas who had
offices in London. It was the old doctor
.. -_who was really her best friend, for when
he saw her beginning to get languid and
spiritless, and lose the healthy colour in her cheeks, he advised that
she should be sent to Mrs. Harkom's private school, where, by mix-
ing with girls of her own age, she might be kept bright and happy.
This plan had been tried for a year, and now it had come to the first
closing day, and by Maude's own words you would think that she
was glad it was all over-the pleasant days she was constantly
"raving" about to nurse, the games, the walks, the talks, the little
half-holiday excursions to the woods. Rejoicing that these were all
over! No wonder old Margaret was distressed and anxious about
her little lady's flighty disposition. She did not understand that
though her young mistress was the very happiest of Mrs. Harkom's
pupils, she liked to feel herself a thorough schoolgirl, and as the other
girls clapped their hands and rejoiced in closing day, so did Maude.
About five o'clock nurse had the tea carefully prepared, five extra
cups being set out on her own especial tray, with an abundance of
scones, and cakes, and glasses of preserves, sent up by Mrs. Martin.
Scarcely had nurse got the finishing touches completed, when she
heard a sound of merry laughter, a shouting, and a toot-a-hooing
from a horn-well known sounds that told of Edmund and Jack


Raymond's approach. Of course nurse hastened to the window to
"wave a welcome to them, and to their three sisters, Edith, and Amy,
and Charlotte, who were seated with Maude in the phaeton. There
was a fifth little girl, Effie Jay, who had been invited by Miss
Maude to spend the afternoon and share her bed that night.
What a happy tea-table old Margaret presided over that evening!
:so thought Dr. Mackay, when he opened the door and walked in
unannounced; but the little people were happier still when they heard
that he had received a letter from Mr. Raymond, saying that he had
taken a shooting lodge in Scotland, and wished
Maude and her cousins, with nurse and Emma,
to be sent on there at once.
"Oh, how delightful! said Maude. "I'm
the happiest--"
But here Maude's eyes rested on poor little
Effie Jay, who was to have no holiday. Slipping
over to Dr. Mackay, Maude begged him to get leave
for Effie to go as well. And when the carriage left the Grange door next
morning, Effie Jay was in it, and Maude's happiness was complete.


I, H T HE Ox is spread widely over the
-.I earth, and there is scarcely any
country without its breed. In this
Country, there are nearly as many breeds
"as counties. There is the long-horned
from Lancashire, the short-horned from
: Durham, the middle-horned from Devon,
and the polled, or hornless breed. There
is also the Highland breed, which you see in the picture.


a 1

10 Highland Cow and C46(-=~-_=~=


In parts of England Oxen were once used to draw wagons, or to
drag the plough; but they are not so strong as horses, and are much
slower. Formerly, too, the cruel sport of bull-baiting was common in
England. The poor bull was tied to a ring by a strong rope, and
large and fierce dogs were set to worry
him. But sometimes the rope did not
prove strong enough to hold the poor .
maddened animal, when he would -. --'
break loose among the scattered and ,-"
frightened crowd. .
Every part of the Ox is of value. f ..-_
We eat his flesh; our shoes are soled
with his skin; and our tables and
chairs are joined with glue made from his hoofs. The young Ox
is called a Calf, and is quite as useful in its way as the full-grown Ox.
At Chillingham Park there is a breed of wild cattle, which are
supposed to be descended from the original race that overran England
in the olden time. They are very fierce, and when one is to be killed,
thirty or forty men go out armed with rifles. In many parts of the
world, such as the Pampas of America, vast herds of cattle freely
S roam the country. But however free
S they may be, they all belong to some
one, and (except the very young
i ones) are branded with the name of
'- their owner. In separating the un-
marked cattle from the rest, and
bringing them to the enclosure
where they are to receive this mark, the drovers show a wonderful
mixture of horsemanship, skill, patience, and daring; and the man
is sure to triumph over the beast at last, however strong and
cunning he may be; and before the poor animal has got over his
surprise at being mastered for the first time in his life, he has been
caught, tied, branded, and set free again!


"W ELL, I can't see what
you two can find so
delightful in those stupid dolls,"
Said Reggie Brewster, in a con-
"temptuous tone of voice, to his
little sisters, Nelly and Ethel.
Little Ethel opened her blue
eyes wide and stared at Reggie,
and fell to rocking her dolly
gently to and fro, as though she feared some harm might befall it.
Look here," said Reggie, presently; those dolls wouldn't be
such stupid things if you two little sillies would have a really good
game with them. I shouldn't mind playing with them myself, then."
The little girls, quite delighted at the idea of Reggie deigning
to join in their games with the dollies, cried together, "Oh, Reggie,
dear, do play with us; we will do just as you like in the game."
"All right," said Master Reggie, "then we'll pretend that these
dolls are Egyptian prisoners, and we'll try them and punish them."
The little girls' faces grew long at this, and Ethel clung tightly
to her favourite; but Reggie snatched them both away, and stand-
ing them against the wall, commenced the poor dolls' trial there and
then, accusing them of such terrible crimes, that Ethel in a few
minutes was dissolved in silent tears at the fearful charges brought
against her innocent child. Presently Reggie exclaimed, Guilty,"
in a loud voice, and, seizing the dolls, carried them out of the school-
room into the dining-room, and locked the door. The little girls
hammered and cried there for a minute or two, and then the door
was thrown wide open, when their distracted eyes fell upon their head-
less dolls hanging from the chandelier. What Reggie had been
about, the picture will tell you.

A Naughty Boy. 13


ST HE Jay, so well known for the
f beautiful markings on its
wings, is a rather shy bird. It
S,-yii loves best to live in thick woods
..... and plantations, especially those in
whic'"' h which trees of thick and heavy
o foliage are to be found. It is,
indeed, seldom to be seen, as it is
much afraid of human beings, and
hides itself in the densest covert on
Si d the least alarm. The usual note of
,g .:-ruln o s i''' the Jay is a rather soft cry; but it
is very clever at imitating various
sounds, especially such as are harsh. It has a certain harsh scream,
which is its note of alarm, and serves to set on the alert not only its
own kind, but every other bird that happens to be within hearing.
The sportsman is often baffled in his efforts to get a shot at his
game by the curiosity and fear of the Jay, which cannot hear a
strange rustling or see an unfamiliar object without silently sneak-
ing up to inspect it, and is so terribly scared at the sight of a man,
a dog, and a gun, that it dashes off in alarm, uttering its loud cry,
which warns every bird or beast that danger is near. o
The Jay is easily tamed when young; and when kept as a pet
soon learns to talk, and even when caged shows off its gift of mimicry
with great success, mocking the bleating of sheep, the cackling of
fowls, the grunting of pigs, the sound of a saw, and even the neigh
of the horse, with wonderful truth. Nor does it stop here, for although
its natural voice is harsh and grating, it can imitate the sweet notes
of singing birds, such as the Greenfinch and others. Like all the
Crow tribe, of which it is a member, the Jay will eat either animal

- ,' \ ,I II \, -.
.. I-_ J .' ` : '-

J. -I- :

a a.s"
.I '!-.: --j.:- --

.. ,.,/.; .
... .. I

Jay and N~st.


or vegetable food, and will rob the hoards of small quadrupeds or
swallow the owner-it does not mind which. Young birds are a
favourite food of the Jay; and it is very clever at finding out nests
and devouring the fledgelings. It also eats grubs, moths, and other
insects, as well as chesnuts, acorns, and cherries. Eggs, too, are
great dainties with it, particularly those of pheasants and partridges, so
it is ranked as "vermin" by the gamekeepers.
The nest of the Jay is rather flat, built -
of sticks, grass, and roots. The sticks serve
as the foundation, and the softer substances
are rudely laid upon them. It is always
placed at some height -from the ground. --
There are usually four or five eggs, and
the bird mostly brings up two broods in -
the year.


ST was down in Kent that we first became acquainted
With granny's boy, and granny herself, a fine old
Englishwoman. Her name was Stokes, and she lived
i in a small cottage a little way beyond the village, and
; supported herself and her grandson Edward by taking
"in washing.
As for Edward, there was not a better boy in the
world. It was "What.can I do to help you, granny?"
first thing in the morning; and when he came from
school, if there really wasn't anything to be done, he
'^-' would be at his books, and the master looked upon
him as the best scholar he had in the whole school.
Edward, granny's boy, set out on foot one day for London,


intending to take the train at the station ten miles off; but he had
not gone a mile when he was overtaken by a carriage, and the coach-
man, after a kindly glance at the
bright face, offered to give him a' '
lift. Edward at once scrambled up
on to the box, and very soon the
coachman had got all his story out i
of him. Even a stouter heart than -
granny's boy might have been
daunted by the tale the coachman -
told of the wickedness to be met
with in the city of London, but it went into deaf ears-so full was
Edward's heart with thoughts of making his dear old granny a fine
lady. He would have to work hard, said the coachman. Of course
he would; little Ned laughed at the notion of doing anything else.
Well," said the coachman, that's the right spirit to go forward
in; stick to it, and be honest, and you'll get on, though you be in
Soon after Edward had taken his seat in the train, an old
gentleman sitting opposite asked him where he was bound for.
I'm going to London, sir," said Edward, to find work."
"Ay, so I thought, and you expect to make a fortune in the
great City, I'll be bound," said the old gentleman, with a chuckle;
"all boys from the country do. You read Dick Whittington and
his cat ? "
Yes, sir; but I don't expect to be so fortunate as he was," said
Edward, smiling. "I don't even expect to make a fortune, only
enough to make granny comfortable in her old age," and then
Edward told the whole story of his granny from beginning to end.
When the train reached London, the gentleman handed Edward a
card, saying, that in three weeks from that day he would be found
at that address, and whether he got work or not, he should be glad
to see him.

Granny's Boy.

Granny's Boy.


I need not relate what befell granny's boy during this first three
weeks. Suffice it to say, that when he presented himself before the old
gentleman, it was easy to see that he was cast down, but not
Now, my young fellow," said the old gentleman, after he had
given Edward some food, I did not bring you here for nothing; I
knew exactly how you would fare. I've gone through it all myself.
I'm going to start you, then; but mind you, it isn't much; it's only
to be a shoeblack in one of the brigades."
It was as a shoeblack in the London Brigade that we one day
came upon granny's boy. There was no mistaking the honest, kindly
expression. What a fine polish he put on the boots entrusted to his
care! Certainly, he thought, if work was worth doing, it was worth
doing well.
Edward Stokes rose to be looked upon as the best boy in the
brigade, and by that time, a
gentleman in an office close by
where Edward had his ap-
pointed work, had been trusting
him to post letters for him in
the pillar, or run an errand
with a telegram, or even to get !
an order at the post-office; and
so promptly did he perform any -
errand of this kind, that at last -
he was taken into the office,
first as boy, then as clerk, and afterwards as confidential and right-
hand to the head of the establishment.
"And did he forget his old granny?" No; Edward has a nice
little cottage out beyond Hammersmith, and there he and his old
granny live. She has a little green where she washes and dries her
boy's clothes all herself, but apart from that he will not allow her to
do any hard work, but has a little maiden to wait on her.


S,,, ; H E R E is a W ild R abbit
"",', 11 running under the fern,
"' and in a moment it will be safely
Q "- hidden in its sandy burrow beside
the wood. It would be no use
".- chasing it-you would only be.
just in time to see its white tail
"as it ran into its hole. You may
always tell a Rabbit from a hare
by the shortness of its head and
the grey colour of the back. It
is pleasant to sit on a green bank on a sunshiny day, and watch the
young Rabbits playing together on an open sandy warren. How
they do run and jump But if once they catch sight of you, off they
scamper, and are out of sight in a minute.
You would scarcely believe how many Rabbits are produced in a.
season. Were it not that they fall a prey to so many birds and
animals, and are also destroyed for food by man, they would soon
devour everything green and eatable. All my readers know what Tame
Rabbits are; and there are very few, I am sure, who have not kept them
as pets. I dare say you have often noticed
how fond they are of scratching up the earth, li ,
for although they were born in a hutch, 1
and never in their lives saw either a heath
or a warren, nor were ever taught to burrow
in the earth, yet their natural instinct
teaches them to try; and if they were
turned loose on a warren, they would pro-
bably soon become diggers and delivers, like
their wild companions.

Rabbit and Young. 21


D "-ID you ever, in all your life,
meet with anything so
disagreeable as a lazy boy or girl ?
SI don't believe you did. In this
Picture you see a lad I know
Down in the country, and you
.-... see, too, just about how he em-
t---- ---r- ploys his whole day! In summer
he sits on a gate and dangles his legs, or stares at busy people; and
in winter he yawns, and sleeps, and gets in every one's way. His
father is a farmer's man, a very hard worker, and his mother is never
idle either. Where Jack's laziness comes from nobody can tell; but
there it is, all the same. He cannot be trusted to do anything, for
however fair he promises, he will be sure to forget." He lets the
cows go astray, "forgot to feed the pigs," "didn't want" to look
after the chickens, and so on, until in the end no one will trust him
to do anything. Now Jack is by no means happy-very far from it,
he is wretched. But he does not want any one to know it, and so
he tries to laugh and seem good-
natured, like Rip Van Winkle; but
he does not succeed. Perhaps if he
could go to sleep, like poor Rip Van
Winkle did, 'and wake up to find
everything changed, he might alter
too! We will hope that the time is not
far off when something will happen
to show him how he is wasting the
best of his life, and let him see, too, \
that hard work, if it brings fatigue, .' 1
also brings happiness, and that it is,.
only idle people who are miserable.

""i ,i,

,Ii f,,, ! i


N ,

Lazy Jack. 2 3


SI H E K estrel is one of the m ost fam iliar
of the British hawks, and may be
seen in almost every part of the country
--- r where a mouse, a lizard, or a beetle may be
found. When on the wing it may very
-- -easily be known from any other hawk,
by the way in which it remains poised in
the air in one single spot, with its tail and
Swings spread, almost as if it were a toy
kite held by a string. While thus strangely
"hanging in the air, its head is bent down-
wards, and its keen eyes glance restlessly in all directions, watching
every blade of grass beneath, and shooting down with unerring
certainty upon any unhappy field-mouse that may be so foolish as to
poke his red face out of his hole while the Kestrel is cn the watch.
The number of field-mice consumed by this bird is very great, and
on this account it is a most useful bird to the farmer, who, however,
too often serves all hawks alike, and shoots the Kestrel because the
kite steals his chickens. And, indeed, the Kestrel is sometimes
guilty of chicken-stealing, or even of the greater crime of poaching
on the squire's game; for, like most creatures, it now and then
changes its diet, and will pounce upon a chicken, a young pheasant,
or a partridge. The Kestrel also preys upon such small reptiles as
frogs, moles, and newts; but mice are always its favourite food, and
it rarely ever attacks the smaller kinds of birds.
The nest of the Kestrel is generally placed upon the topmost
bough of some lofty tree. It is a very simple construction of sticks
and moss; and to save the trouble of building, it will often take
possession of the deserted nest of a crow or a magpie. The eggs are
four in number, of a dark reddish brown.


Ktl 1a nNe

S; ,l F


T HE snow was
falling fast,
and there was a keen
driving wind blowing
i in the streets, which
S, ri made the fireside of
S.i the little parlour be-
Se longing to a small
stationer's shop in
l, we p h Kensington, a plea-
sant retreat from the
cold. This small shop was kept by Tommy's mother.
Tommy and his mother were all in all to each other, so Master
Tommy lorded it over his loving parent, as you may suppose. On
this very afternoon Tommy had cried and made a fuss because his
mother kept him indoors; and had darted in and out of the open
door so many times, that she had at last carried him into her little
back room, and shut the door upon him.
Master Tommy, unused to such strong measures, set to work
to kick at the door and bellow loudly, whereupon his mother, greatly
troubled, carried a box of wooden soldiers into the parlour to keep
him quiet. Tommy was quiet for a little, a very little time: those
soldiers were not new toys to him-his mother kept them by her to
produce at such times as this. Presently a customer came in and
heard Tommy crying. This lady had little boys and girls of her
own, and her kind heart being touched by the sounds of woe, she
bought a sixpenny donkey, and asked his mother to let her give it
him. Now this was sad, because it was spoiling Tommy. How-
ever, the kind lady left Tommy happy playing with his donkey, and
his mother happy because her little boy was satisfied.

7 ? ..

/ ,,

.. .. ...


Tommy and his Toys. 27

S- -- ,-. ^-- ^_" -

- S --"
4 A


O N the opposite page is a picture of a Fox with a family of young
cubs. The Fox, with his sly ways, is a well known animal
in England. The following description is taken from Thomas
Miller's Boy's Own Country Book" :-" Sometimes we went a few
miles to see the Fox-hunters throw off; and although I think it is a
very cruel amusement to chase a poor Fox over the face of the
country, and when he can run no longer, to set on a pack of hounds
to worry him to death; still, it was a pleasing sight to see the
splendid horses, and the hunters in their scarlet coats, and the clean,
well-fed hounds running about the woodside, and the groups of


Fox and Young. 29


lookers-on scattered here and there. And although I
always wished that the Fox might escape, yet I liked
to see the horsemen start off at a brisk -gallop, -ndI-
leap over gates and hedges as if t!h \\ere me1re
mole-hills; the poor Fox
heading the way, and try- -I
ing to-baffle the hounds .._---
by all kinds of twists and
turnings, running some-
times for a few yards even "i
upon the top of a hedge,
as if conscious that his
.scent betrayed him. As.
for the Fox robbing a
hen-roost now and then,
for my part, I like to see
his black feet dinting the --
winter snow."

T was hot-burning hot weather,
.. -I and Reggie's little sisters were
both beginning to look so pale, that
Mamma said, "I really think we
must go off for a few weeks to the
seaside. Papa, what do you say?"
"Well, I think it would do us
all good-even this bad boy of
ours," said Reggie's papa, as he
turned to look at his son, with a
good-natured smile. "But, mind,
Reggie, you must try to behave
better if we take you; there must




Regie nd isSisers 3


be no mischief." Reggie grew red, and promised he would do his
best to behave well.
Another week saw the whole family settled comfortably in
cheerful lodgings at Eastbourne. .How the children revelled in the
change! How they wished they could only live for ever by the sea-
side! How they delighted in bathing, and above all in wading!
Reggie would show the two little girls all sorts of cunning places to
find shells, hermit crabs, and sea-weed; and with bare feet and legs
the children waded happily about, ankle-deep in sea-water, in search
of treasures of the deep.
One day, nurse-who was the only servant they had taken to
Eastbourne with them-was busy, and could not get out so early as
usual. I shan't be long," cried she; but you three may go down
to the sea, and I'll come to you. Master Reggie has been such a
good boy since we've been here, that I'm sure he'll take care of you,
and I shall be down on the beach almost as soon as you are." Off
went the children: their shoes and stockings were soon cast away,
and Reggie, walking between his sisters, was not ankle-deep, but
nearly knee-deep in the water. The tide was fast coming in, and the
reckless boy thought it a fine thing to walk out to meet it. Soon
little Ethel found herself almost lifted from the ground, as the swell-
ing waves rolled in; she clung to Reggie, and began to cry. He
turned round then; but the tide had risen so rapidly, that if he
had been a minute or two later, they would all three have been
most probably carried out to sea and lost. With all his faults,
Reggie was no coward, so, snatching Ethel up, and crying, Hold
on, Nell, and don't be frightened," he managed to get with his
sisters safely back to the shore.



iORA on a long branch, swinging;
Making just a daisy chain:
Hands and thoughts alike are busy
.-- Joining flower, and flower again.

What then is the girlie thinking,
Only of her necklet fair?
Or do other dreams and fancies
Touch her, carried on the air ?

Does the zephyr breathing softly,
Bear a tale upon its wing?
Do the birds with songs of summer
Teach her, while they sweetly sing?

Does the perfume of the flowers,
Fill her heart and childish mind
With the thoughts of city children,
Born to know a fate less kind?
33 3

In the Country.


Fresh pure air, and birds and blossoms,
Surely they must tell a tale
Of the wondrous power they carry,
To tinge young cheeks, now all too pale.

Every breath of country blossom,
Every sound of wild bird's song,
Carries with them each a blessing,
Reaching wide, and lasting long!


SHE Jackdaw is the smallest of the British
crows. He is a bird of infinite wit and
0" humour, and one that has a great fondness for
man and his dwellings. Although much the
1'' .-- same in shape and colour, the Jackdaw may
,'_-b'- be easily known from the rook or the crow
-, -^ y by the grey patch on the crown of the head
,, and back of the neck, which is very striking,
and can be seen some distance off. Its voice,
too, is quite different from the caw of the rook or the hoarse cry of
the crow. It generally takes up its home near houses, and is fond
of nesting in old buildings, especially choosing the steeples and
towers of churches, and buildings of the same kind, where its nest and
young are safe from stoats, weasels, and other enemies. There are,
indeed, few places in which the Jackdaw will not build, so long as

I I & :

S- r n ,

"36 jackdaws and /Vest.


'they are steep and high enough. In its wild state, the Jackdaw has
many of the habits of the rook. In captivity, to which it soon gets
used, it is avery amusing pet, and learns many curious tricks. One
Jackdaw, which was a great mimic, more than once put the house in
danger by his fondness for lighting lucifer matches, of which amuse-
ment he was as fond as some mischievous children are. On one
occasion he set light to the kitchen fire, which the cook had laid
overnight. The first time this Jackdaw lighted a match he was so
frightened, that he ran away as fast as he could go, coughing and
sneezing after his fashion from the fumes of the sulphur. And he
never seemed to learn the right end of the match, but would rub
away at the wrong with great perseverance, without finding out the
cause of his failure. By degrees he managed to singe off all the
feathers from his forehead and beak, and once burned his foot very
badly. This bird was much afraid of thunder, and always knew
when a storm was coming on, when he would retire to some
favourite hiding-place, such as a dark hole in a wall, in which he
would tuck himself until the storm had passed over. But if he were
called by any one whom he knew, his confidence would return, and
he would gaily come out of his hole in spite of the thunder, crying,
"Jack's a brave bird," as if he quite understood what he was saying.
The nest of the Jackdaw is a very rude structure of sticks, lined, or
rather covered with hay, wool, feathers, and all sorts of odds and
ends of a warm kind, for the eggs and young.


UGH, Hugh! What can have become of that
"child ? cried a lady, in accents of despair.
The lady was walking rapidly over the sands at
Eastbourne on a glorious early spring day. Hugh,
my darling Hugh! where can he be?"
"Pray, ma'am, can I help you? asked a red-faced
old gentleman; "you seem in some trouble."
Indeed I am," replied the lady; I brought my
little grandson down to the beach to play, and he has
run off by himself-have you seen him ?"
"Well, ma'am," said the old gentleman, I saw, a short while
back, a little boy that I remarked as being a mischievous sort of
young Turk, running past me. I noticed him because he nearly
knocked my stick out of my hand, and looked so uncommonly
Without stopping to question this description, Mrs. Graham
hurriedly thanked her new friend, and walked rapidly to where he
pointed. Turning a point of the cliff, she soon saw Hugh, seated
upon a rock, cutting the mast of a ship with a large, sharp knife,
which he- had taken from the stable; while his boat lay beside him
with its mast broken.
"Really, Hugh, I must scold you," said Mrs. Graham, much
annoyed at her grandson having taken the coachman's knife. "I am so
disappointed to think that my little grandson should be so naughty."
The poor lady was about to remonstrate further, but Hugh let
fall the stick, with a yell of pain, and bright red drops fell upon the
ground at his feet.
Poor Mrs. Graham was almost beside herself. She had just
taken out her handkerchief, and rolled it up into a bandage, when a
voice sounded beside her.

HUGH. 39

"Well, ma'am," said the voice, "and so you've found young
pickle, have you ? And in mischief, too What has he been doing ?"
Mrs. Graham looked up, and saw her red-faced friend. He
has cut himself terribly. He took the coachman's knife. What can
I do? what do you recommend ?"
"Recommend, ma'am?" said the old gentleman, "I should
recommend the cane. However, perhaps the best thing to do is
first to bind up his hand. Here, let me do it, ma'am," and the old
gentleman bound up Hugh's hand skilfully, though not very gently.
Now, sir," said he, giving Hugh a knock on the shoulder with
his cane, don't steal knives in future, and if you wish to grow up into
anything like a man, don't nearly faint at the sight of your own blood."
Hugh was not grateful to his new friend; he turned to his
grandmother, and said, Horrid old man! I wish he'd fall into the
sea! I wouldn't help him out, I know."
Mrs. Graham put her spoilt boy in a fly, and drove to the
doctor's, where Hugh's hand was properly strapped up, and then
that young gentleman was not content to go home and rest, but
persuaded his grandmother to take him to a toy shop, and buy a new
boat, much larger and grander than the one with the broken mast.
When Hugh reached home he had nearly
forgotten his pain and fright. The visit to
the toy shop had quite undone any good effects
as a lesson that the cut on his hand might
have had.
The new boat was a great beauty; Hugh
named her the Emiress. She was so large,
that it was as much as Hugh could do to carry
her down to the sands by himself.
One fine morning, Hugh shouldered his
boat, and carried her to a pool at a little '
distance from where his grandmother sat, close to the cliff, with her
books and work. But to-day the pool was still; there was not a





--------- -----


40 Nzlg.

HUGH. 41

ripple on the water, and the Empress would go neither one way nor
the other.
Hugh was very much disappointed. "Ah !" thought he, as he
saw the beautiful calm waters gleaming under the sunshine in the
distance, I should like to give the Empress just one sail in the real
sea; there is wind enough there to fill her sails."
In a few seconds Master Hugh had lifted his boat out of the
pool, and walked along the sands towards a breakwater which ran
out a considerable way into the sea. He reached the breakwater,
and walked carefully down it. The breeze was stiff enough here to
sail the boat. He attached his twine, settled the sails, and the
Empress was launched upon the mighty ocean. At this moment
Mrs. Graham looked up, and caught sight of a little dark figure that
she recognized, standing at the end of the breakwater. Down went
book and knitting, and away sped the anxious grandmother. The
tide was fast creeping up; the Empress bobbed up and down in
rather an uncertain way; then off she started. Hugh hastily unwound
his twine, but the boat pulled hard, and somehow he felt a sudden
jerk, and over he went into the sea.
On rushed Mrs. Graham, breathless with fear; but a helping hand
was by. A friendly stick was hooked into
Hugh's clothes before the sea sucked him
away, and he was pulled safely on to the
sands by the red-faced old gentleman.
"Ay," said the old gentleman, so
it was I who had to help you out of the ,
sea after all. I don't think you deserve
it, sir, and I did it entirely for your .
grandmamma's sake."
Somehow Hugh and the old gentle- (
man became great friends after this; and : --J'
Hugh was certainly a better boy in
consequence, and had some thought for others as well as for himself.


,1 NIOTHING gives greater
,beauty to forest scenery
than a herd of Deer, whether seen
.pacing in stately groups of two
";- '" or three across an open glade, or
lying among the broad bracken
"- .- 'which autumn has tinted with
S.her rich hues of red and brow n.
;. ,' ;'" And there is something so grace-
ful and innocent in the look of
.the fawns as they trot by the side
-. -.. ... .' of their mothers, that it is almost
-.- -- enough to soften the heart of the
keenest sportsman.
.-- Of all the noble race of Deer,
., the Red Deer or Stag is the most
famous. It reminds us of Shake-
"speare, the Forest of Arden and
the melancholy Jacques; and of Robin Hood and his merry men in
Sherwood Forest. It carries us back to the olden time when cruel
forest laws were made to protect the Deer for the sport of the king
and his nobles. A man who had murdered his fellow might have
some hope of pardon; but no mercy was shown to yeoman or
peasant who had been bold enough to kill a Stag. This stately
animal is no longer found in a wild state in England. Cultivation
and civilization have made a captive of the old monarch of the woods;
and instead of ranging free for miles over unbounded forests, he is
confined within the palings of a few secluded parks. On the heath-
covered mountains of Scotland only does he still roam in his wild
unfettered majesty.

.. .. -_.............

1n w
---n-- and Fan 43
,'" :4' : ', ', '

"1. ,~-~ ; m .r ..' / ,_.

,tn an Pwn 4


T HE winters in Germany are
Much more severe than in
England, and the story I am
S-. going to tell happened some time
S,--- ago during a winter of unusual
S severity in that country. I spent
S- the greater part of that winter
Living on an island in the river
'. The island is called Oberwerth.
The only habitations are one large
house and three or four cottages. At the house lived a German lady,
who owned the island, and with whom I was staying. The principal
cottage was occupied by the ferryman; the others were inhabited by
the families of labourers employed in the cultivation of the island.
In summer Oberwerth itself, and all the surrounding scenery,
are most picturesque and lovely: even during that cold winter there
was beauty of a certain kind. Huge blocks of ice came floating
down with the stream on one side of the island; while on the other
side, where the river is narrowest, the water was completely frozen
over, and there was skating going on.
However, it is not with the river that my story has to do, but
with some children that lived upon the island. They were the son
and daughter of Bernard the ferryman. I should say one was about
six, the other seven years of age; and their names were Herman and
Anna. One bitter morning in January I met them-a joyous little
couple-trudging merrily through the fast-falling snow to school:
they could cross to the mainland on the ice then. Such a little man
and woman they looked! laden with their books and slates; and
Herman, besides, carrying the large umbrella, which sheltered them


I--II-I -zz...._______

Biddn the.__ S-o-

ilidden in the Snow. 45


both from the blinding flakes of snow. I asked them where they
were going.
"To school," they answered both together, with a merry laugh.
You seem very cheerful about it," I said.
Oh, but we are so happy," cried Anna, because to-day we
have a half-holiday, and the Grafine has told us we may ask some of
our schoolfellows on to the island, if it leaves off snowing. And we
are to have games, and play at snow-balling, and run about, and get
as warm as we can; and afterwards we are all to have supper in the
great kitchen at the House."
Well, I hope it will leave off snowing," said I; and so we parted.
In the afternoon sure enough the snow ceased, and the sun came
out. Sitting in the house, I could hear the merry shouts of my
little friends, and other children,
1. romping and playing in the grounds.
S' Afterwards I went, with my hostess,
...i' nto the great kitchen, and saw them
feasting; as merry a set of children as
.:. were ever seen. Supper over, they
"l":I i went out into the garden once more,
S to have a game at hide and seek among
.. the trees and bushes before it became
quite dark.
The night was just closing in, and
snow was falling heavily again, when Bernard, the ferryman, came
up to the house, asking eagerly for help to search for his children, as
neither of them could be found.
My foolish little ones," said the poor father; there are places
in the island where the snow lies five and six feet deep; they may
sink into one of these drifts and be frozen to death before we can
find them; and now it is getting dark."
He told us how the two children had gone off together out of
the warm kitchen to hide, bidding their schoolfellows follow and


search for them. This they did; but they searched in vain. Then
they became frightened. It was growing dusk, snow was beginning
to fall, and they dared not go beyond the garden. Then one of them
ran and told Bernard. He said
he had looked about, calling his
children by name, hallooing, and
using his whistle, but no answer
had come.
The mistress of the island
immediately ordered all the men
about the house to go out with
lanterns and torches, and she and
I joined in the search. But the
children were not found.
Then all at once an idea o .. -
struck me. Most of you have
heard of the Mount St. Bernard dogs, vho find poor travellers
who have been lost in the snow on the Alps. Now, though I had
no St. Bernard dog, I had a Scotch Shepherd's dog-a Colley.
So I called Kelpie to me, and leading him to the ground beyond
the garden, pointed forwards, saying, Seek, Kelpie, seek!" My
doggie seemed to understand exactly: he put his wise old muzzle
near the ground, and went sniffing about in all directions. In a very
few minutes he stopped at the foot of a large tree, on one side of
which the snow had drifted into a heap. Here, lifting up his head,
he gave a loud deep bark, and scratched away at the snow. The
good dog's instinct had done more than all our knowledge, experience
and intellect could do. He had found, and saved the children.
They had hidden behind the tree, and at last, getting tired, had
lain down on the soft snow, and fallen to sleep: then the fresh snow
falling quickly covered them up. They were carried into the house,
and soon restored to consciousness. As for poor Bernard, I shall
never forget his joy, or his gratitude to Kelpie.


SHE Goldfinch is the handsomest
Sof all the British finches, and his
S- bright yellow orange hues suffer little
even when compared with the more
,, i',, gaudy plumage of tropical birds. The
Goldfinch is spread over the whole of
J England, and may be seen in great
numbers feeding on the white thistle-
down. It is pretty to see a cloud of Goldfinches fluttering along a
hedge, chasing the thistledown as it is whirled away by the breeze,
and uttering all the while their merry sweet notes. As the birds are
not very shy, they may easily be watched as. they come flying along,
ever and anon perching on the thistle-tops, dragging out a beakful
of down, and biting off the seeds. These beautiful little birds are
most useful to the farmer, for they not only devour multitudes of
insects during the spring months, but in the autumn they destroy
more weeds than the farmer could hope to do with all his men.
The Goldfinch keeps to the fields and hedgerows in the summer
and autumn; but in the winter it is often forced to seek for food near
the homes of man. A gentleman had two pet Goldfinches, which
were allowed to fly not only about the room, but also through the
open window. One cold winter's day these two Goldfinches brought
in a strange Goldfinch, who made bold to go into the open cages of
his friends, and having regaled himself on their food, flew off. But
he came again and again, and brought others with him, so that in a
few days the gentleman had half a dozen of these beautiful songsters
enjoying the seeds which he took care to provide for them.
The nest of the Goldfinch is very neat and pretty, and is mostly
made of wool, and down from various plants. In captivity the Gold-
finch is very tame, and can be trained to perform a number of tricks.

r l '

..- ., -_ .-.._ .-.
I P,

~- 1'--" ..

I; :

Godfnc ndNet.4


U QSAILOR and I go down to
Bt I dthe sea,
I'm not afraid-he will take
care of me
The great waves roll in with
many a dash,
And break as they fall with a
terrible crash.

"Once, the sea was so rough and
the wind was so high-
But down to the beach went my
Sailor and I;
Nurse said it was cold, and a very bad day,
But I did beg so hard that we might have our play.

So away then we went with a scamper and run,
We both were determined to have some good fun;
When we got to the beach, what a noise, what a din I
As the foaming white horses came thundering in.

" Don't send the dog out in such a rough sea,"
Cried Nurse, as she shouted out loudly to me;
Then off flew her hat, blown far, far away;
We thought it was lost for ever and aye.

But Sailor looked wistfully up in my face,
Just as he does when he wants me to race,
And I threw the stick into the sea as a guide,
And away bounded Sailor off from my side.

-------==----~-~- -----------~=

Sailr an 1 5


He fought with the waves, my Sailor so brave,
And brought back the prize that he went out to save;
And Nurse is as proud, as proud as can be,
Of the hat that our Sailor brought out of the sea.


Y OU can hardly think of the Colley without picturing to yourself
a stretch of brown moorland, swept by wild storms of moun-
tain wind and rain, or piled with vast snowdrifts, with a great brave
shaggy dog doing his duty nobly, just as if he had the same sense
of conscience as a human being. The chief reason why the Colley
is able to bear exposure to the weather better than any other kind of
dog, is his thick shaggy great coat, which forms a waterproof that
will turn a deluge. Thus dressed, he goes about his work with

Z -I!

Colley and Puj.s 53


perfect health and temper, through all the changes of his native
climate; now gallantly breasting a storm of hail as he toils up the
mountain side in search of some lost
member of the flock; now bravely wading
through the snow, trying, under his anxious
I master's directions, which he follows like
"a well-drilled soldier, to help some luckless
lamb out of a dangerous place. And with
.. all his labours and hardships, he often
lives to a good old age, and enjoys at last
honourable repose in a warm corner near
"the cottage hearth. The Colley's high
mental gifts are probably due to his having lived for so many
generations in the closest intimacy with man. There is probably no
class of men, except the Arabs with their horses, who live in such
close daily friendship with any animal, as the Scotch shepherds with
their dogs. The Colley and his master seem in truth but one, for
the dog understands the meaning of each tone of his human friend's.
voice, and each glance of his eye, far better than another man would.
A single word is enough to make him separate from the rest a certain
number of the sheep, and lead them to a distant field; a single look
will make him lie down with a whole nursery of lambs.
Of late years the Colley has come down from his native moun-
tains to enter into general society;
and his beauty, intelligence, and <"'. ''''
warmth of heart have gained him a ,
high place among English home ,-
pets. He stretches himself on the
hearth-rug in the drawing-room; he I.
trots in the park by the side of my
lord's colt; and he walks, with know-
ing thought in his wise face, up and
down crowded parades.


IT was a very hard winter in
the little town of Craw-
ford. Dick Pearce wrapped his
cm tthin jacket more closely round
Ships shoulders, and ran towards
home as fast as the slippery
e ground would let him, resisting
"the temptation to stop and
a make slides with the other
boys, for mother and little
i Nellie were waiting for him
yu mr ... and his Saturday's earnings.
"As he entered, his mother
came to meet him. "I've just had bad news," said she. Mr. Roper
is going to raise our rent; and what's more, he says I've owed him
for so long, that if it's not all paid off in a month's time, we must
turn out."
Mother, it's a shame! a wicked shame!" But Dick stopped.
He grew very red, and looked down; for he had to confess that he
had lost his place. It's all that Will! he said at last.
"You mean he makes you idle when you are sent on errands,
and Mr. Stokes won't stand it; there's the
truth, Dick," said his mother sorrowfully.
" But there, I won't say any more, for I do
believe seeing Nell and me suffer will punish
you more than anything else."
Mother, mother, don't," cried the boy,
throwing his arms round her neck. "I shall
soon get another place, you'll see, and then
we shall be all right again."


56 Dick's Orang"s.


"You can try, but I doubt if Mr. Stokes will give you a
character, you've tried his patience so often already," said Mrs.
Dick did try again, and so did his mother, but without success.
He came back night after night more disheartened, while they were
beginning to feel the effects of it in actual want of food and firing,
and as for saving enough to pay the rent, that seemed quite hopeless.
It was a bitter trial to Mrs. Pearce. She sat thinking over it one
day, when Dick came in looking so hopeful, that she said eagerly,
"Any success, Dick ?"
"No, mother; but I'll tell you what I've thought of. Why
shouldn't I set up as an orange boy. Say yes, mother, do."
"Oh, mother, do let Dick go," whispered little Nellie; I am
so cold-let him get us some money to make a good fire."
Well, you may go, then," said Mrs. Pearce sadly; it's honest
work, at least."
They had a little money by them, which she gave to Dick, who
went off to a grocer and set up a stock of oranges. Armed with his
basket, the next day he sallied forth. It was quite a new thing for
him, and he rather enjoyed the fun of calling out Oranges sweet
oranges especially as in the first hour he disposed of a good many,
and by evening came back with a lightened basket and some money
in his pocket. Time went on, and he
still made a good sale, though he did ...
not gain much money.
Dick did not find his work so
pleasant either, when the first novelty
had worn off. The wind seemed a
good deal colder standing still or walk-
ing slowly about, than when he ran
briskly on his errands, or stopped for -
those games with Will Adams which
had cost him his place; but he knew it was his own fault, and the


thought of his mother toiling at home and patient little Nell, gave
him courage to go on with his work.
One day he only sold sixpenn'orth; then only four; and at last,
one afternoon when he had taken nothing at all, he grew despairing,
and out of sheer disappointment, cold and hunger, a big tear rolled
down his cheeks.
Mary Stokes, the grocer's pretty daughter, was looking out of
her window, and saw the whole. She hesitated an instant, then
called to her mother below.
Do you see Dick Pearce out there with his oranges, mother?
He looks so cold and miserable."
I see him, the idle young rascal," said her father's gruff voice
instead. I daresay it will do him a great deal of good."
However, Mr. Stokes was not so gruff as he seemed; and when
he heard of the distress of Dick's mother and sister, and saw that
the boy was really sorry, and in earnest when he said that he would
behave better in future, he agreed to take him on again. That was
a joyful day for the little family; and Dick did so well, that Mr.
Stokes promoted him in time to a good place in the shop. And his
mother used to say that as it had done him so much good, she could
not feel sorry that he once sold oranges in the street.

S | T HE Wagtails, so named from the
almost incessant motion of their
tails, are only to be found in the Old
S World. The Pied Wagtail is the most
common of its race. We often see it
".. flit quickly by, with its peculiar dipping
"flight. It settles on the ground, and
wags its tail; it runs a few paces, and wags its tail again; pecks at
an insect, and wag again goes its tail. It does not hop, like the



All. '.. A, ,
..!.,., I;T h. ---- .

----r es I. o
i ,%";S

--- lr" -- w

W W g", ,.5

e a
ll z'--'. I
.... ri~f' ,' ,
_~3 . ;f ;' .-- '. '-'__:..

-~~~ : i;:
.- .
f" I I' ' i, "

a/e agail ~zcl2Ves. 5


warblers and the finches, but runs with great rapidity, and altogether
looks very like a small-sized magpie. Sand banks by the sides of
rivers are the favourite haunts of these birds, where they may almost
always be seen, running about and jerking their tails by the water's
edge, sometimes snatching at a careless may-fly, sometimes wading
into the water after a caddis-worm or a stray grub, or pecking at
some unlucky little minnow, which has come too near the surface-
and then off to another spot to repeat the
-same tricks. The Wagtail also greatly
frequents fields and meadows, where it
may be seen running about among the
.. cows in the most unconcerned manner,
catching the flies that torment these poor
animals in summer, or flying off with a
beak full of hairs for its nest.
"The nest of the Wagtail is built near the
water, and always in secluded places, such
as holes in walls, the hollows of aged trees or
clefts in old gravel-pits. Often when stones
are piled up by a wet quarry, several nests
may be found
in one heap.
The eggs are
four or five in
number, of a
dusky white
colour, spotted
r with ashy
brown. The
length of the
bird is seven
and a half


.. N a very small cottage at the edge
] of a wide moor, and close to a
-/ Highland loch lived Angus Mac-
Sdonald, with his wife and only child,
"Here Nancy was born, and had
grown up with no other companion
S- ----- but Flora, an invalid cousin, who had
.now been sent to an hospital. Flora
had never been able to leave her bed
for a whole year, but she was so patient and good, and managed to
help Nancy so well with her lessons, that it was only after she had
left for the hospital that the shepherd saw any necessity for sending
Nancy to school.
It was only during the summer that Nancy could go. Although
she had seven miles to walk across the moor every morning, she was
generally first in her place, and she paid so much attention, that she
stood at the head of her class. After school she had to hasten home,
to help her mother to milk the cows and feed any delicate lambs,
and give the young deerhound puppies they were rearing a good run.
Many a time she had cast a longing glance over to Donald Cameron's
new cottage, for Nancy knew an English gentleman had taken it for
the summer months, and that his little daughter and her cousins,
and a school friend and her old nurse were there, and as they were
about her own age she was curious to see how they looked.
One day when she had got a mile on her way home, whom should
she see but the children out on the moor with the old nurse in charge,
herself looking like a stately lady in Nancy's eyes. The little girls
were gathering flowers, while the two boys were playing pranks with
each other among the heather.


"Hallo, little girl !" cried the elder of the two boys to Nancy,
"where have you come from, if it is a fair question, and where are
you going ?"
"I have been to school, sir, and I am on my way
l home," said Nancy, dropping a respectful curtsey.
By this time the little girls had come forward, and
one of them, Maude Raymond, held out her flowers to
Nancy, asking her, with a sweet friendly smile, if she
did not think her bouquet was really very pretty.
"Yes, miss," said Nancy, "but there are much prettier
Flowers to be had close to where I live, and far more of
'_ And where do you live, little girl?" inquired Maude.
At the other side of the moor, miss; six miles from
here by this little sheep track," said Nancy.
"What is your father, little girl, and what is your name?" in-
quired the old _
"Father is
a shepherd,
ma'am, and my
name is Nancy
"I think it
would be great
fun to try to find
our way to your
cottage," said
"I am sure if
the young ladies
and the young
gentlemen could -:,:--,:-


Nancy .Macdonald. 63


get Donald Cameron to bring them round in the boat, mother would
be very pleased to see them. I could then show them where to get
plenty of flowers and ferns." "Thank you very much, little girl,"
said Maude; "we will ask Donald to take us on Saturday."
Away went Nancy, as happy as possible, for it was only on very
rare occasions that any one ever found their way to her father's
house. She determined to have everything in "apple-pie order," so
that the young ladies might be pleased. When all was in readiness
Nancy climbed the hill, at the back of the cottage, and sat looking
out for the boat along the loch. At last it rounded the corner,
and Nancy rushed away down the path. Oh, how queer the shep-
herd's cottage was in the eyes of the little ladies Everything was
new and strange to them, for this was the first time they had ever
seen a real old-fashioned Highland cottage. At the side of the
kitchen were two box beds, one for the shepherd and his wife, and
one for Nancy; and the little girl was so pleased to show how hers
was lined with all sorts and sizes of pictures. But presently Mrs.
Macdonald brought the basket, saying they must be off up the burn
if the flowers and ferns were to be got that day. While the little
girls plucked the flowers, the two boys were busily engaged digging
up the ferns with Donald's help, accompanied by the two young deer-
hound dogs; and old Dqnald made them very happy by promising
to let them know when a stag was to be stalked. At last the basket
was quite full, and the boat was got ready again. Maude Raymond
declared it was the very happiest day she had ever spent.
From that day Maude took a great interest in Nancy
Macdonald. Owing to her help, Nancy was able to stay so long at
school, that she was fit to take the place of pupil teacher; and when
Maude Raymond came of age, the very first thing she did was to
instal her as teacher in the new infant school she had built. How
very strange things work round, nurse," said Maude Raymond one
day. "Who would have thought that the little girl we met with her
bag and slate far away in Scotland, would be my school teacher?"





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