Little folks' story book

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ILLUSTRATED

BOSTON .
D LOTHROP COMPANY

WASHINGTON STREET OPPOSITE BROMFIELD

v





COPYRIGHT, 1889
~ . BY
D. LoTHRop CoMPANY.

Press or Berwick & Smrru,

Boston, Mass.











DICK AND BISMARK.

~ ICK, sunny and warm by the stove,



; was dreaming. It was a frosty Christ-
| LP mas Eve. “The owl, with all his
feathers, was a-cold.”

Dick had no real home. He was
“the boy” on a ranch. It is not nice
to be nothing but “the boy.” To run
here and there, at everybody’s beck
and call, and have nobody to pet you;



plenty of folks to scold and find fault,
but no mother fo love you and make
the best of -you. :
. Not that Dick had such very bad
times. Especially after Alex and Susy came on from the East to
stay all summer, he had had playmates in a way. And Susie
had a most delightful little donkey. named Bismark: Uncle Alex
had bought him for her. A donkey with bells around his neck
and ribbons in his bridle. ~ A
donkey that never refused to go,
but was good-natured as the day
was long.
Dick took care of Bismark, and
they became excellent friends;



better friends, I think, than even

SUSY RIDING WITH ALEX AT HER SIDE.

Susy and Bismark. For Susy -
had many friends, but Bismark was just Dick’s one. So Dick
was dreaming that Bismark was his own, his very own. He











DICK WAS

DREAMING.







DICK AND BISMARK.

dreamed it so hard that he came near tumbling on to the stove.

The week before Alex and Susy had gone East, leaving Bis-
mark behind. Before this, Dick had never wished to own Bismark
himself. It had been pleasure enough for him to see Susy ride
him with Alex by her side. But now he wondered what would
be done with him. Would he be sent away?
‘would he never see him again? And so, he
fell asleep and dreamed.

He was awakened by a sweet sound in his
ear—a very sweet sound; Bismark’s musical
bray. Bismark was standing by his side. There
too, was Mr. Harrison (Uncle Alex). He gave
Dick a note. It ran thus: gt geen



Dzar Dick: —I give you Bismark for a Christmas present, for I know you will
take good care of him. Merry Christmas. Susy.

Then Bismark brayed again sweetly, and Dick was a happy boy.







A aati x

aval 9)
RY i



A CHRISTMAS TEA PARTY.



SOFT-FOOT LEARNS A LESSON OF CONTENT.

SOFT-FOOT LEARNS A LESSON OF CONTENT.

“Tm sick of this old cabbage,” said Soft-foot one day. It
was nice, crisp cabbage, but Soft-foot had a bad habit of grum-
bling. — « i sick of this old hutch, too. I want to see some-
thing new?

“So do I,” said Dumpy, eho always said ‘it Soft-foot did.

“Foolish children,” said Mother Bunce, “ you don’t know what
you do want.” . : oo

About that time heavy rains were falling far North, and the
streams were bringing down floods of water into the Mississippi. —
The river overflowed its banks and swept over the land.
_ Mother Bunce.and her family were taking their twilight stroll

when the water flowed over their hutch, or they would have ©

been drowned. But they could swim, and so, when the water
lifted them off their feet, they swam to a big tree that stood
out of the water. They scrambled up the rough bark —Dumpy
and Mother Bunce, while Soft-foot came last. ,

“Ugh! ugh!” he said, as the water dripped off him. “This
is awful! If ever I get back to our hutch again, safe and
sound, I won’t hanker- after new sights any more. Ive seen
new sights enough.”

“That’s so,” said Dumpy. And she shivered so she almost
tumbled back into the water. ,

They staid on that tree four days. Then the water went down |
and they crept feebly home. The hutch was damp and-muddy-
“But it’s the dearest old hutch in the world,” said Soft-foot.
How hungry he was! and he ate the water-soaked cabbage and
said it was “sweet,” A ae.









“you! ueu! THIS Is AWFUL!’? SAID SOrT-FrooT,





an

POOK LITTLE THDDY AND RI CH LITTLE TOM.

POOR LITTLE TEDDY AND RICH LITTLE TOM.

Poor little Teddy! on Christmas Day,

They gave him a cap and a muffler gay,

A box of tools, with skates and a sled,

And high-topped boots whose tops were red.

But what was that? “twas nothing at all

When he wanted a big, big rubber ball.
Poor little Teddy !

He wanted pie for dinner, one day,

They were going to have it, he heard ’em say;
But pudding with plums was what he. had. |

O poor little Ted! now wasn’t it sad?

His red lips grew to a terrible pout;

He didn’t want that, so he went without.

. Poor little Teddy!

_ He wanted to try his bran new sled,

One day after school, O poor little Ted!

But his mother sent him off to the store—

This poor little boy! and his grief was sore.

_O how he hated to mind his mother!

To help her, and play with his little brother.
O poor little Ted!

Rich little Tommy! on Christmas Day-—
‘Only one present came in his way;





WINTER FUN.



POOR LITTLE TEDDY AND RICH LITTLE TOM. |

A pair of mittens his mother | had knit,

A fiery scarlet, and just the fit!

Weren’t they nice? he asked his brother ;

And hadn’t he got the dearest mother?
Rich’ little Tommy !

Sometimes he didn’t have dinner enough,
And you may think that he called it rough;
But he didn’t, not he! this rich little boy—
Sometimes he had plenty, and that was joy.
And he loved to help his tired mother,
He loved to play with his little brother.

(=O rich little Tom!

In summer or winter, fall or spring,

He was just as happy as any king.

-In winter, ‘tis true, he had no sled, ‘|

But he slid down hill on a board. instead.

When the snow was hard and glazed with ice,

He could steer it “lovely” —’t was “just as nice !”
Rich little Tommy.

Tommy and Teddy will both be men;
Will there be a difference between that then? |
Ah, yes! there must be, my little lad;
One will be happy and one will be sad.

Look over these lines, eyes black and blue,
And see which one is the most like you

OF these two little T’s.
_— Emily Baker Small



“TEN LITTLE INDIANS.”

“TEN LITTLE INDIANS.”
ONE LITTLE INDIAN.

One little Indian lying on a _ board.

He is called a.papoose, and his name is Moxmox. The board
that he is strapped to is fastened to his mother’s back, when
she wishes to carry him.



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ONE LITTLE INDIAN,

no hat on, so the sun shines down on his little red face and.
makes him blink his tiny eyes. When he cries, his mother
shakes the board up and down, instead of rocking him. By and by
she will hang the board to a bough or stand it against a tree, while
she cooks supper. Then Moxmox will clap his little hands and
crow in funny Indian baby fashion. — Helen E. Sweet.





“ THE UGLY DUCKLING.”

“THE UGLY DUCKLING.”

UIET Gretchen was not a gay,
noisy child. She was as quaint
as any little old woman, so that
her sisters called her “Grand-
mother Gretchen” sometimes,
and then they would all laugh
as though that were a great joke.

One day Old Nicholas, the rich
fiddler, heard them as they teased
the child. “To be sure she is
no peacock,” he said to the noisy
flock. “ But I will tell you what
she is. Sheisasong-bird! Come
here, thou little Ugly Duckling,

and sing with my icin the May Lied, and as thou sang it yesterday
when thou wert alone in the house. Sing loud and clear, for thou
lovest to sing, and sing thou shalt, for I will teach thee myself.

Stand there now; and you, gabbling parrots, be still. Now then!”
Little Gretchen’s habit was to obey all who bade her. So now

she sang as she was bidden, and loud and clear; warbling,



whistling, trilling, even as she sang when alone.

“So,” said Old Nicholas. “So! Thou wilt be a great singer
some day, and the whole world will sit as still as thy brothers
and sisters to hear thee!” .

Perhaps it will be so. Who knows? She takes a singing
lesson each day) and the other children are very polite to her.

— Sara £, Farman.











‘OTE UGLY DUCKLING.”? — LITTLE GRETCHEN SANG LIKE A BIRD,



SAM, TOM AND JERRY.

SAM, TOM AND JERRY.













One day I found a toad waiting
at my greenhouse door.

















































“Well,” I said, “come in if you
want to; I guess you'll pay your
way; at any rate it won’t cost much
to board you;” he seemed to under-,
stand my words, for in he hopped,
and rested on the walk to look
about him. He must have sent
some word by telephone to his



friends of his discovery, for only
JERRY. two mornings afterward, at the

very same door, there sat another toad. |

“Well,” I ‘said, “surely, this is a committee on’ greenhouses,
and here is No. 2. Won't you walk in, too?” And, as I pushed
open the door, in he went. The fourth morning I let in No. 38,
a monstrous toad. Once in the house, they showed no desire to
get out, and in a few days. I began to be surprised to see
what wise little creatures they were. ge

They were just as unlike as three boys could be! Tom was
rather shy, and kept by himself. Jerry was sociable, and soon -
followed me all around. Sam was too large and too old to.
hop very briskly, and would spend’a whoie forenoon looking out
of the window, or climbing along the rough stone wall that. forms
one side of the. greenhouse. ;

I began to teach them to know me, by making a certain
sound, and calling them by name, as I worked around the plants.



SAM, TOM AND JERRY.

Jerry was the first to make friends. Before long, wherever I
might be busy, he quickly made his way toward me, and was at
once rewarded with a worm or slug. And how cunningly he
ate it. He would pretend at first that he did not see it; sud-
denly he would turn around, and, with head down, watch it as
a cat watches a mouse, each toe twitching. Then a_ sudden
grab, and the worm. was in his mouth. He always had a hard

: time swallowing it, and, when it was

fairly down, he would give one last
gulp of delight. Pretty soon they
would come when I put out my hand ;
and at last would climb on to my
hand to get their food. I often filled
atin dish with slugs and worms, and
to see the three toads around it
eating was very amusing.

One day in ees Jerry acted strangely. He kept lifting
his legs and seemed uneasy. I noticed a thin skin rolled up about
the middle of his back. He put up his right leg and drew it out

-of this skin as easily as papa takes off his overcoat, and then did

the same with the left foot. He rolled up the skin, stuffed it
-down his throat and swallowed it; and there he was with a bright
green coat on. He had taken off his winter coat and put on
his spring suit. The gentle heat of the greenhouse had made
him think that spring had come, for it was a little early for
spring garments. Later, the other two toads did the same.

These toads are dainty little things. They utterly refuse to eat

a dead bug or worm.. There is nothing vicious about them. Their
little tongues. are soft as silk. ‘I never heard but one of them
make the least sound, and that was the smallest kind of a squeal,
when greatly frightened. a ¢ — Ellen L. Gilbert.



TOM.





THE BLUE JAY.

THE BLUE JAY.

Like rustling bits of paper they cling,
‘The dead oak leaves,

To boughs where the rain thrush used to i
In the summer eves. .

And scattered acorns have kept their hold,
As if loath to fall,

And, hark, I hear through the frosty cold.
The blue-jay’s call.

Blue as the air is the calling Jay,
‘And straight flies he
-As an azure blossom torn away
From a-wind-blown tree.
He has been to look for cracks and chinks
In the big corn bin, ee
And is laughing to think how the farmer thinks
He can’t reach in.

But he knows he can, and screams and calls ©
And laughs, “ Ho! ho!”
And pecks at an acorn, down its falls!
Does he need it? no.
Yet the little oak-nut, ripe and brown,
. He does not see _ :
Nor heed, may some fine day be grown
To a great tree. a
— Mrs. Clara Doty Bates.































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































THE PICK OF THE LITTER.







A FAMOUS ROCKING-HORSE.

- A FAMOUS ROCKING-HORSE.

I suppose you will not.
think this much of a rock-
inghorse, And I really do
“not think it is myself.

But, like’ some other
things, this rocking-horse is
much more interesting than







it looks. It is a very old —
horse, as you can see for











yourself.- In fact, it is two



































hundred and fifty years old,

PRINCE CHARLEY’S ROCKING-HURSE,

tu which is pretty old for any but —

a rocking-horse, and we could not expect him to look young and gay.

‘When it was: new it belonged to a little prince who grew |
up to be King Charles I. of England. This little prince was
born in Scotland in 1600, and was only three years old when -
his father became James I. of England. So that he must have
had this rocking-horse in the royal nursery at Whitehall. And
probably his tall and handsome brother, Henry, Prince of Wales,
eight years older than he, must often have lifted him off and on
this same droll little horse. And because it belonged to this little
prince, it has been carefully kept all these years,. and is now in~
a museum at Cheshunt, Hertfordshire, England. :

If you ever go to England you can see it if you wish. I
suppose it is the oldest rocking-horse in England. It. is four
feet high, and as it has no stirrups, Prince Charley must have got
many a fall and bump when riding it. _ aL .







THE DISCONTENTED CHILDREN.

THE DISCONTENTED CHILDREN.

$ LENN was a fretful child. Nothing went right with
1 her, and ‘she cried all day long. In fact she just
swam in tears. Her father and mother did not know
what to do with her, and she was no playmate at .
all for her brother Gikel. One day he said to her,
2 “Sister dear, we were much happier at Uncle Stork’s.
Let us go back to the Nest.” And he put on his hat, took his
whip, caught Flenn by the arm and cried, “Come, at once!”



In the country of these little
folks all children -believe that
they once lived with the storks
in the stork’s nest, and Flenn
thought Gikel’s plan very good.
She asked if he knew the way,
: and he said he did, and she took

See are her doll and they started.
After they, had wandered awhile, they saw Uncle Stork and
Aunt - Stork walking slowly along in-a piece of marsh,



“There they are,” said Flenn
with a sob, “but sey do not
come to Heat us.’

But Gikel. strode up to ie
birds and spoke to them. “Good
‘evening, Uncle Stork,” said’ he.
“We are on our way back to
the Nest. We do not like the
~ home to which you took us, and



THEY START. .







THE DISCONTENTED CHILDREN.

we rather go back and live with
you.”

“There is no room for them,”
said Mr. Stork, in a low voice.
But Mrs. Stork said, “O, yes,

there is. Besides, they will amuse





the nestlings. Let them come.”
She nipped Flenn’s doll out of

her hand as she spoke, and Flenn

burst into a new flood of tears



and felt sure she should not like 4 “aRERE Tey Ane!”

her at all, and almost wished she were not going to the Nest.

But she got up on Mrs. Stork’s back, and Uncle Stork took.

‘Gikel, and away they went.

You would have laughed to
see them. Guikel went sailing
away between Uncle Stork’s
wings, full of glee, and waving
his whip, and looking back to see



Se aie Sioa “Gf Flenn enjoyed it too. Alas,
no! Flenn was holding on by: Aunt Stork’s feathers, all up in

a little heap ready to fall off, and the tears were pouring down .

her fat cheeks, just as of old.
Poor, silly little Flenn! when
she might have had such a good
time riding away through the
air on bird-back. “She will feel
better,” said Gikel, “when she
once gets to the Nest.” Now let
us see what happened.
— Adapted from the German.

THEY Go.



=







HOW PEPITO COOKED A PIG.

HOW PEPITO COOKED A PIG.

Pepito and his baby brother, whom they called Dos-dientes or
‘Little Two-teeth, were playing in the shade of | the young cot-
tonwoods growing along by the ditch.

Pepito was patting out thin cakes of the adobe mud just as
he had often seen his mother pat out corncakes. A flat, sloping
rock was at the water’s edge, and on this he laid each cake
to bake in the hot sun. And as each cake was laid on the
rock, Dos-dientes showed his two little new teeth, and prodded
the cake with a fat forefinger. Now this Pepito did not like.

“Keep your fingers off,’ he said. “They can’t cook right if
you punch them full of holes.” | .
“eried Dos-dientes. It was his first and only word,
and he had first said it not for his papa, but for papas, for
so. the Mexicans call potatoes. And potatoes, when boiled and
mashed and mixed with goat’s milk, were what Dos-dientes liked
-best of anything. |

“Pa-pa!” said Pepito after him. “ Dos-dientes, you're always
squealing for papas inet like a pig. You're fat enough for a
pig, anyhow.” |

{2

“ Pa-pa !

Then Pepito thought all at once, what a nice plump pig |
Dos-dientes would make to roast. For Pepito was a cook. And
so he said, coaxingly :

“Good little brother, come and be a pig and let me roast
_ you, and I will give you these two cakes.”

Dos-dientes took the cakes and Pepito lead him to the family
bake-oven. This stood a little way from the house. It was shaped
like an old-fashioned bee-hive, only much bigger, and was made













aaa



“CRAWL IN NOW, GOOD LITTLE PIG.”







HOW PEPITO COOKED A PIG.

of adobe mud. In baking, a fire was made in it, and it was
heated all through. Then the fire was raked out and the bread
set in. The opening was then closed with a board and the
bread left until baked.

Some cedar sticks were lying around. With them Pepito made
believe to start a fire. Then he iaked them out, and said to
Dos-dientes :

“It is ready. Crawl in now, good little pig, and be roasted.”

The good_ little pig had been watching, sleepily, for it was
growing towards noon and his nap time. He crawled in and
lay down. And in a minute he was fast- asleep. Then Pepito
leaned the board over the opening, and while the pig was roast-
ing, he went off to finish his cakes.

Noon came and dinner time. Pepito went in for his bowl of
mush and milk. His mother saw he was alone and said:

& Why, Pepito, where is the baby ?”. Pepito was confused. For

~. busy in play he had forgotten all about the roa as pig.



“JT don’t know!” ‘he said at last.

“Oh! what a boy,” his mother said. “Tell me quick. Did
you let that little angel go about the Rio?”

But Pepito couldn’t say. Then everybody lett their dinner and
ran down along the Rio River, crying, “Dos-dientes, O Little Two-
teeth, where are you?” And not one thought to look in the oven.
~ But Pepito stood and ee hard. And like a flash he re-
membered. | |

“He’s in the oven,” he cried out. “I was roasting him for
a pig!” . .

His aesine ran and took down the board. And there, sure
enough, he was, sleeping sweetly in that cool retreat. And on
being waked up he squealed, too, very much like a -real pig,
only a live pig, and not a roasted one: —Jennie Stealey.





MY “SWEETHEART” MAMMA.

MY “SWEETHEART” MAMMA.

(A Valentine Story.)

This I am about
_ to tell you happened
when I was a little
boy. My papa and

mamma put me. to




off thousands of miles
away in the big ship of which my

I was! I used to cry nights — softly, so
the other boys should not hear me. - And I
would steal away by myself when the other
boys were at play, and think and think about

die if I did not see her.

IT was born at sea and had never been
away from my mamma a single day before.
a -I had never staid much. on land, and every-
nas Homsros wemâ„¢ANES thing was very strange to me at first.

The boys would laugh when I called the stairs the “ gang-
way,’ and a bureau a “locker,” and the kitchen the “ galley,”
and my bed a “buzk.” And I had been so used to walking
on the deck of a tumbling ship, that I hardly knew how to
walk on a floor that kept still. And that made the boys laugh.

Well, one evening in February, Dick and Tuck (Tucker) wlio

_ school, and then went ,

papa was captain. And O how homesick

my dear mamma, till it seemed to me I must









































a

es













































































































































































































































MY “SWEETHEART ?? MAMMA WRITING MY VALENTINE,

































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































MY “SWEETHEART” MAMMA..

shared my study with me, got out their paper to write “Val
entines,”’ they said. And when I asked’ what a Valentine -was
they just stared. os

“A Valentine, Goosey!” for that was what they. called me
when they thought me very stupid. “Why, a Valentine is—is
—what is it, Dick?” said Tuck. « Why, it’s a—a— Valentine!”
And that was all Dick could say. And so I looked. in the dic-
tionary. And it said first that a Valentine was a “sweetheart”
chosen on St. Valentine’s day. And then it said that it was a
letter of “love sent from one person to another on St. Valen-
tine’s day.” And I cried harder than ever that night, because
“sweetheart” was my name for mamma. _

It was the prettiest of all the pet names my papa aaiied her.

Well, a few
days after, a let-
ter came with
gilt edges, and,
im one corner, a
gilt boy, with a
pair of wings. I
opened it and
sure enough it
was a Valentine
from my. “sweet-
heart” mamma:
and this was



it: . _ DICK AND TUCK. WRITING VALENTINES.
Fly, little boy, with wings of gold A thousand kisses, the truest love
And bear to that boy of mine From his dearest Valentine.

’

Dick and Tuck said it was splendid, and they wished ~ their-
mothers could write poetry. 8, - FLA. 7.



“THN LITTLE INDIANS”

«TEN LITTLE INDIANS.”
TWO LITTLE INDIANS RIDING ON A HORSE.

They are little twin boys, and their father has tied them on

the horse’s back. They are so wrapped in blankets, that you

can only see their heads and arms. Off goes the pony at a

Geos
db.
G
& â„¢M
A
N



D wo LITTLE INDIANS,

brisk trot. Are the boys afraid? Not a bit. Their heads bob
this way and that way, but they- think it is fine fun. They
could not fall off, if they. should try. When the pony walks
lazily along, they can shut up their drowsy eyes and sleep just
~ as well as if they were in bed. The pony is so well trained,
he never thinks of running away with them. — ‘eden E. Sweet.



































































































































































































































































































NOT HONEST.



MY RIDER AND I.

MY RIDER AND I.

Across the river I want to go,
But the bridge, the bridge is down!

How can I build one safe and strong? -

How can I cross to town?

I stand and call, “Halloo! halloo!”

Up comes a rider fine ;

“The bridge is down,’ I say, “but I

Must be in school by nine.”

“Tl take you over,” he says, “if you
- Will please to ride behind.”

I mount the pony, we ford the stream

All safe and dry, I find.

And when [ come: from school at night.
I call, “Halloo! halloo!”

Across the river my rider comes,
And over again we go.

Sometimes across the prairie wide,
We canter fast and far,

And play I am the truant, bride,

~ And he is Lochinvar.

This rider says he loves me well,
I love him dearly too—
My little brother— could you tell .
Had I not told it you? - — Sarah E. Howard.





GUY FAWKES’ LANTERN.



























KNIGHTS OF THE OLDEN TIME.

GUY FAWKES’ LANTERN.

You have seen a white glass lantern and a red glass lan-
tern, and, perhaps, an old tin’ lantern, but I. think you never.
saw a lantern like this of Guy Fawkes. oF

Guy Fawkes was born in York, England, in 1570. He is said
to have been a good and: lively boy. When he was a little
fellow, his. grandmother died, and left him in her will, “her
beste whistle and one oulde angele of goulde.” ;

This “angele” was an old English gold coin with an angel
stamped upon it. It was worth abows $2.50. What the whistle
was I do not know. — .

Well, this little Guy grew wp, and in 1605, he plotted with
some other men to blow up the House of Parliament, and so
kill the King, the Lords, and the Commons. It was a wicked
thing to do, and they did it because they did not like the laws.
They hired one of the vaults under the Parliament Chamber,
and carried in, by stealth, thirty-six kegs of gunpowder. But
one of them had a friend, Lord Monteagle. And he wrote to





GUY FAWKES’ LANTERN.

Lord Monteagle not to go into the House that day. Lord Mont-
eagle told this to the Royal Council, and they suspected some-
thing was wrong, and searched the vaults.
There they found. Guy Fawkes with this
very lantern. He “was laying the train
of powder to blow up the House the
“next day. But he was taken and shut up
in prison, and so the wicked plot failed.

The next day was November 5, and,
ever since, that day has been called, Guy.
‘Fawkes or Gunpowder Plot day. Until
within a few years it was a legal holiday in
England. On this day the boys and men
paraded the streets, carrying a frightful-
looking figure on a..pole. This figure they called Guy Fawkes,
and they pelted it, and shouted at it, and finally burned it. While
it was burning they danced around the fire. And the children, as
_ they looked from the windows, shouted one to another :

“© hurry, hurry, come and see the guy! : what fun! They
are going to burn him! Oh! oh!” — H.



GUY FAWKES’ LANTERN.



-Her Grandpa calls her Margaret,

Her brother calls her Peg,

Papa says she is Lady-bird,

To me she’s little Meg.

And Auntie calls her Daisy,

Mamma, her precious Pearl.

My! What a lot of names she has, —

eae Our darling baby girl. — Harriot Brewer









































































































































































































































































































A JOLLY RIDE, i





THE DISCONTENTED CHILDREN,

THE DISCONTENTED CHILDREN.

The Storks, with the children
on their backs, flew on and on
through the blue air. Before
they came to their own they
went by many nests. But at
last they came to their own,
a fine, large one. There were
three Stork-children in it, and
‘the Storks set Flenn and Gikel
down among them.

“There you are!” said Mr.



Stork. “This is a very beau-

IN THE NEST.

tiful home, is it. not?”
“Now you can smile,” said Mrs. pions crowding the young
“Have you not brought us anything but hese: G ae
children?” cried the three little, Storks.
Then the parents remembered they had prom-

Storks to make room for Flenn.




ised them something nice for
supper. -
So they flew away again.
“Can you fly?” said one of
the Stork-children to Gikel, who
sat there shy and awkward,
for he felt out of place in
the Nest. > | =I, i
“Or stand on one leg?” asked a oT eee |
the second Stork-child. |





GIKEL SHOWS THEM HOW HE STRIKES,





THE DISCONTENTED CHI. LDREN. —

“IT do not need to stand on |
one leg,” said Gikel hotly.
“ You haye no bill either, and .
how can you strike?” asked
the third Stork-child.
—&T will show you how,” cried
- Gikel, and he seized his whip
} - and struck them all such a blow
that they huddled close together,
and were afraid to speak after
- that. ;
— After a while Mamma Stork
caine flying in with a fresh fish.
in her bill. “We must serve our visitors first,” she said politely.
~ “Do not swallow him whole, please,” said one of the Stork-
children to-Gikel. ‘cot eS F = a
“You stupid!” answered Gikel. “I never eat. raw flesh!” Ex.
He would not touch the fish; but Mother Stork gave a bit to:
Flenn who salted it with her | pee
tears and ate it greedily, and Y;
then complained of thirst.
“Tt will rain soon,” said
Father Stork, “and then you
must open your bill as wide
as you can.” .



SUPPER, _ -

oa
Nee oe

And in about five minutes
big rain-drops did begin to
patter down on. their heads, —
and each of the three Stork-chil-
dren at once opened up their
long bills as wide as they could.

— Adapted from the German. HOW THE STORKS DRINK.









-SADIE’?S CHRISTMAS GIFT FOR PAPA.





,

SADIE’S CHRISTMAS GIFT FOR PAPA.

Christmas came at last, and Sadie enjoyed it more than either
of the other two Christmases that she can remember, because
this was the first time that she had done things for other peo-
ple, instead of just having other people do things for her.

With the money she had been saving for three months, she
bought a gift for each brother and sister, and one for me.
Mine was a cornelian ring. I haven’t had a cornelian ring be-
fore since I was a little girl, and it looks prettier to me than
all my other rings, except my wedding ring. Sadie was very









SURPRISING PAPA.



SADIE’ S CHRISTMAS GIFT FOR PAPA.

happy that she had thought to buy the “very thing I wanted,”
but I don’t think that it, or any of the other presents she
gave, made her so happy as her present for her papa. She had
been learning to read, to surprise. him. I had marked off in her
little reader, just how much she was to learn every day, so
that she finished it just two days before Christmas. The next
day, she went over all the hard places that she was afraid she
might forget, and when she felt sure she knew them all, she
asked me for a nice clean piece of paper, and wrapped the book
in it and tied it, and then she wrote on it, in big printing letters,
from. a copy I set for her, “SADIES PRESENT TO PAPA,”
and then she gave it to me to tie on the tree.

Sadie had often wondered just how her papa would act; and
wasn’t it strange? her papa did the very way she thought he
would; he took off the paper, and looked puzzled, and then he
said: “I guess my little girl has made a mistake, but no matter,
ll wait for my present till another time!” | |

Then Sadie laughed and jumped up and down, and _ said,
“Please give it to me, and sée if Pve made a mistake.” Then she -
took it and asked him to look on with her, and she read two
or three of the hardest lessons, and then she put the book down
and put her arms round dea neck, and said, “That's my present
to you, papa!” .

O how pleased he was! he could hardly speak for a moment,
then he put his arms around her, and said, “ My little Sadie has ~
given me the nicest Christmas present I ever had in my life!”
and when he said that, I believe Sadie was the happiest little —
girl in the whole city. — Mrs. Henrietta R. Eliot.



THE CHICKADEES.,



THE CHICKADEES.

In the cold, cold weather all alive and brown,
Light as thistle feather or dandelion down,
-Camé the flocks of tom-tits, chickadee !
Whether the wind blows them or the snow snows them
No one stops to ask, but everybody. knows them,
Everybody likes them, chickadee !

When the air is eldset full of glinting frost,

They are blithest, boldest, seem to sing the most,
Sing-a-song-a-sixpence, chickadee !

As if some gust had sent a twittering throng of them, a plenty

For a score of pies, or more, if each held four-and-twenty,

| Four-and-twenty in each pie, chickadee !

What is tom-tits’ diet? is it hail and sleet ?.
I wonder when they try it if they find it sweet,
Caramels and taffy, chickadee-?
Flitting hither, thither, does each call to the other,
When the flakes are falling, “Here’s sky-sugar, brother,
Sweet cloud candy for us, chickadee?”
| _—WMrs. Clara Doty Bates.



AUNT SUE’S MOUSE.

AUNT SUES MOUSE.

NCLE TOM! O, Uncle Tom! T’ve caught
the mouse.”

“What mouse, my dear?” and Uncle
Tom lifted Kitty to his knee.

“Why, don’t you know about Aunt
Sue’s mouse? It’s been keeping her
awake for nights end nights, and she’s
tried traps and everything, but it just
wouldn't be caught. You see it gets into



® her drawer where she keeps her medicines,
and a bie: with some Jumps of sugar in it; and then it nibbles the
sugar and rattles the bottles and makes her so crazy, she has promised
to give a prize to the first one that killed it. And just. let me tell
you, Uncle Tom! This afternoon I was playing in her room,
and I heard the bottles rattle. I thought to myself, now I’ve
got you, old fellow! and I went right downstairs for . Eve.
You know our two white cats, Adam and Eve, don’t you, Uncle .
Tom? They’re just exactly alike, and no one can tell them
apart, only Eve will catch mice, and Adam won't, he’s so lazy.
But when I called Eve in from the barn, Adam came too, and
I couldn’t tell which was which, so I had to take them both
-up-stairs.

“But when I Spened Aunt Sue’s door, Eve ran straight for
the desk, and began to smell around, and Adam curled right
down on the mat,—the lazy thing! Then I called Bridget in.
to open the drawer where the mouse was, and you ought to have
~ heard the bottles clatter. The cat dove right into them, head-



ce io

Se



AUNT SUE,



AUNT SUE’S MOUSE.

first, but, do you know ? the mouse wasn’t there!
Bridget tried to make Eve look under the stove
and the bureau, but she wouldn’t. She kept
jumping up on to the desk, and all at once
Bridget thought that perhaps the mouse had
got in over the back of the drawer above. So
she opened it, and Eve jumped in like a flash.
Then, what do you think, Uncle Tom?. she
came out with one of Aunt Sue’s long black
stockings, and then what did that lazy 6ld Adam
do but jump up and grab hold of the leg of it. You Lf



see Eve had the toe of the stocking in her mouth, 9 “°"" 7" *™™

‘and Adam the top, and the mouse was inside, and there they pulled
and fought and growled over it. I sat on the foot of the bed
-and watched it all, and I never saw anything so funny. But
when at last, the mouse popped out of the stocking, guess which
one of them caught it, Uncle Tom! That lazy old Adam!”
“And then off he went with it growling, arid wouldn’t let Eve



have the least bit of a taste. The greedy, lazy

old thing!”

“Very good! very good,” laughed Uncle Tom.

“But I thought it was Kitty Clifford who
caught the mouse. How did she happen to be
‘sitting .on the foot of the bed’ and watching
the fun, all that time.” |

“ Well — you see, Uncle Tom,” very sheepishly,
“JT happened.to have some of those very lumps
of sugar in my apron pocket, and I was afraid the
little mouse would smell: them, and crawl in



2
kite bee ioe ' eitervthem, That “was-all?,
: —A, D. S. Burns.



-. LITTLE LIGHTHOUSE EDDIE.

LITTLE LIGHTHOUSE EDDIE.

This day began as almost every other one had done. Eddie had
said his lessons to his mamma, and was trying to rig a toy
ship which he meant- to sail from the rocks, when a cry was
heard. His mother rushed up_ the winding ‘stairs. He ran after
her. His father had fallen from the ladder that led to the tower,
~and broken his wrist! What was now to be done? It plainly
must be set as soon as possible, and yet he could not row the
boat across the rough waves with one hand. .

Mrs. Edes looked at Eddie, but the ‘brave little fellow did
not wait for her to -speak. “You must go with papa,” he said,
“and I will take care of the lighthouse.” -“ And leave you alone ?”
said his mother, for Eddie had never been alone a moment in his life.

_ Somebody must stay here,” he said. A few moments more and
they were ready to leave. “ We will only be away a couple of
hours,” Mrs. Edes said, kissing him. |

He watched them out of sight, and then went back to his work.
But he was uneasy, and could not settle himself. He opened his
books, put his toys to rights, 4nd looked at the clock.

“The old clock is slow,” he said aloud, and then laid down
on the lounge where he could watch the hands move. The steady
tick, tick, soothed him, and he fell asleep. When he awoke he.
rubbed his eyes and sprang to his feet. What did that sound. .
mean? Why was it so dark? .He ran to the window. He could see
nothing. The wind was blowing, the thunder seemed to break on the -
_ roof, and he drew back in terror. Where were his father and mother ?
“They cannot come -in this storm!” he cried, and then — “ The
light! Oh! it is getting dark, the ships will be lost!”
He only hesitated one moment. He would light the lamp, he

















Nag (&
Esty Sy

:
\























































EDDIE'S LIGHTHOUSE.



LITTLE LIGHTHOUSE HDDIE.

said to himself. He had never tried to do it. But he had seen it
done. He was only a little boy, and as he crept up the creaking
stair, he was afraid; every sound seemed strange, and the great lan-

tern, so far up in the sky, swayed with the storm! Up, up he crept until

he reached the great cap that
held the lamp. At first it
would not yield to his little
hands; then, he raised it,
touched the wick, and the
light burned bright!

He almost’ shouted with joy.
He had lighted it, no ship
would now be lost, and his
father would not lose his
place! He clambered slowly
down the steps, and looked
from the window. He saw
how his light was like a great
eye flashing off afar. The
storm soon began to lessen
and, after a little watching,

he heard the splash of oars,

a loud hail, and he opened
the door. His mother came
running up the step and
caught him in herarms. “ My
brave little boy, my darling,



THEN EDDIE ATE HIS BREAD AND MILK.

we could not have come home to-night if you had not lighted the
light!” she said. “ And-you have saved the ship Maria from wreck,”
added his father. “She is anchored just beyond the reef.” Then
Eddie had his supper of bread and milk. § —Rebecca Forbes Sturgis,



“THN LITTLE INDIANS”

“TEN LITTLE INDIANS.”
THREE LITTLE INDIANS CATCHING FISH,

Three little Indians fishing in a creek. They catch tiny firth
in small nets which they make out of any old rags they cen
find. Then they take long pointed sticks and play they are



































THREE LITTLE INDIANS.

spears. When they see a large leaf floating in the stream, they
spear it and say it is a salmon. They have seen their father-
catch fish in this way, and they long to be big, so they can
catch real live fish. Sometimes they put a hook on the end of
a twig or a leather string, and try to catch fish with it— just
as white boys play with a pin hook. — Helen E. Sweet.



WHERE THE SMALL CATS LIVE.

WHERE THE SMALL CATS LIVE.

The three small girls have good times down there where the

hay is kept, and where the small cats live—four purring small
eats, that do nothing from morning till ’ aia but play, eat, and
sleep, sleep, eat, and play.

One morning they went down as usual to carry the small cats’
breakfast —a bowl of ‘fresh warm porridge with a good deal of
milk in it. That breakfast is always a great care and anxiety
to the three small girls. For it is important that each small cat
shall get his or her exact share, no more and no less. But if
they are not well looked after, big, greedy Tiger is likely to
get four times his share, while tiny Lucky is just lapping a lap
or two. So they pour a little at a time into the saucer and
only let Tiger lap part of the time.

This morning Meg was just on the point of pouring some
porridge into the saucer when in trotted a visitor, with a loud
“ Maa-a-a,” and each small cat put up her back, opened her mouth,
and said, “Spt! spt! spt! spt!” . |

The visitor was little Nanny Goat’s kid, and she was hungry
as hungry could be; for the boy who takes care of her, or
pretends to, had gone off fishing and forgotten her. And she
walked right up and ate the porridge, every drop, and Meg let
her!

The small cats were furious, and each said “Spt! spt! spt!”
ull the whole air seemed full of “ spts !” But Nanny-Kid did
not mind; the porridge tasted good, and when she had ate the
last drop she curled up on the hay and went to sleep.

Then Meg got another bowl of warm porridge, with. a good
deal of milk in, it, for the small cats’ breakfast. eas)

























































































































































































































































































































































































































E SMALL CATS LIVE,

WHERE TH.



‘THE BLUE BIRD.

THE BLUE BIRD.

A leaf from the branching .
Blue of the sky

Came. floating downward

From somewhere up there
Very high. 3

The wind in a frolic
Blew it along
From roof-peak to fence-top,
When, all of a sudden,
_~ We heard a song.

Like a fairy fife

_ It whistled clear,
‘And the children hurried
To door and window —

~ To see and hear.

A leaf sing —a leaf —

‘From the sky’s blue tree?
Or a silver echo _

Of songs that the sunbeams -
Sing, maybe ? .

Ah, no, ’tis the bird
That knows so well

When really and truly

The spring is coming

And hastes to tell. =
— Clara Doty Bates.





nee SSSA
oS



A FAMILY CHORUS,



ALEC’S BANK. . 7



“HERE ALEC, PUT THIS IN THE BANK,’? SAID UNCLE SIMON,

ALEC’S BANK.

Ales was a little boy who lived in the country. His uncle
Simon often came from town to see him. Once he brought him a
gold dollar, and said, “Here, Alec, put this in the bank, and by
the time you are grown, you will have several more.”

Now Alec had never seen a great house with the word “Bank”
printed on the door in gilt letters, but he had often played on
the bank of the pretty. brook, which sparkled and danced through
his father’s farm. He knew very well, too, abezt planting seeds,
and waiting for them to send up little green sprouts which were,
after a while, to be apple and peach-trees.

— §o he ran with his gold dollar down to the brook, and dug
a hole in the soft bank, and put the bright piece of money into
it. He hardly liked to cover it out of his sight, but was it not



ALEC'’S BANK.

going to take root, and grow up a tree, having great branches —
all covered with shining dollars? Yes, he believed he could go
out and gather a hat full of them, as his father gathered pears —
from the tree by the side’ door.

He went several times, that day, to look at the spot where
he expected the tiny green sprout to come up by and by.
But after Uncle Simon had gone, mother said, “ Alec, what did
you do with your dollar?”

“JT put it in the bank,” said Alec.

“Why, what bank?” asked his mother, surprised.

“In my nice bank by the brook, and, mother, when it grows
up a big money-tree, you shall have ever ae ever 80 many dol-
lars —a whole apron full.”

“ Why, what is the child ee about! Show me the place, Alec.”

She dug into the bank where he showed her, but whether he —
had forgotten the exact spot, or whether some one had seen him
put the dollar there, and had taken it away, the poor little boy
never knew. His pretty gold piece was gone, and though he
went many times hoping that he would yet find a money-tree
growing by the brook, the only fruit that came of his planting
was a sad disappointment. — —S. E. S. Shankland.





A LITTLE GOOSE GIRL. ©





















MAKING THE KITE.



THE DISCONTENTED CHILDREN.

THE DISCONTENTED CHILDREN.

“This rain is very wet and
nice,” the eldest Stork-child said,
shutting her bill for a moment,
to look around at Flenn and Gikel.

But the two little strangers
were in tears. The shower was
nearly over, yet’ still the drops
‘came dripping and drizzling down



upon them. “We are complete-
SRR eh Ge AN oh Os, Oa eine aa, ly wet through!” cried Gikel.
“Don’t you see?”
“And we have no dry clothes to put on,’ sobhed Flenn.
“You should wear feathers, then, as we do,” said the little Storks.
Mrs. Stork here came flying back. “What a nice refreshing rain!”
she said. “I hope you drank all you wished,” she added to Flenn.
“We are wet through and through!” cried Flenn, crossly.
Mrs. Stork examined the children. She found the rain did not slide
off their clothes as it did from the smooth feathers of her nestlings.
“Poor things!” she said, and
“helped them take off their wet:
garments. Pale and damp, they
sat down to dry on the edge of
the Nest. The sun had come
out and the great light and heat
made Flenn cry afresh.
At last Flenn fell asleep.
But Gikel was too angry to



sleep, and too homesick. He ~ ostestent,







Gikel was. very angry when

‘THE DISCONTENTED CHILDREN.

looked at his little sister, and
the tears came into his eyes,
and he wished that poor Flenn
was at home with her mother.
Her fair little flesh already
looked red and sore.

Mrs. Stork was going about —
the Nest, putting things to
rights. The Nest was crowded
and untidy, without doubt, but



he saw her nip up Flenn’s
little gown and petticoat and COL S a a ee ae. J
drop them out. His own clothes were also thrown out.
“Do you think their feathers will grow?” . asked Father Stork. |
“T cannot tell; I hope so,” she said, “for I think they are of
a very ugly shape when they are bare.” a
“T really do not like to have them here, my dear,” said Father
Stork. “The girl-child weeps too much.”
“Well, how would it do to give them away again?” said Mrs.

Stork. She, too, had taken a dislike to Flenn. Besides, she did

not know how to feed them as they would not eat raw fish.

“When I was out,” she said, “I saw a peasant and his wife

who had lost their two children, a boy and a girl, and they were
walking about wringing their hands. We might take them there.”
“T think we will do it, and at once,” said Father Stork. “I
am glad you agree with me. The Nest is much too small. if
we do not do this, I shall drop the girl-child out of the Nest, for
I cannot live with a creature who is always in tears!” So Mother
Stork took Flenn, and Father Stork took Gikel, and they flew away
to the chimney of an old house. — Adapted from the German.



“TEN LITTLE INDIANS.”

“THN LITTLE INDIANS.”
FOUR LITTLE INDIANS TRYING TO HIT A CENT.

A white man has put a stick in the ground. In the end of
it he has made a slit and put a. penny in it. . Now the little
Indians are going to shoot at this penny with their arrows. The















FOUR LITTLE INDIANS.

boy that hits the penny can have it. for his own. Another time,
the man will toss some pennies in the air, for the boys to catch,
as they fall. They can keep all that they can catch. You should
see them tumble and scramble for. them. It would make you
laugh, I am sure. What do you think they will do with the
‘money after they get it?” . 3 — Helen F. Sweet.







































































REBECCA AND HER LAMB.



REBECCAS BIRTHDAY PRESENT.

‘REBECCA’S BIRTHDAY PRESENT.

On Rebecca’s ninth birthday, her aunt’ Rebecca gave her a
present. I think you would never guess what it was, so I will
tell you. It was yarn—woolen yarn enough to knit a pair of
stockings.

It was a nice gift, as you will see, and not so queer as you
may suppose. For it was about eighty years ago that Rebecca
had this’ present, and yarn enough to knit a pair of stockings
_was a fine present for those times. Perhaps her aunt Rebecca
spun that yarn herself on the great spinning-wheel.

Now Rebecca knew how to knit, and with this yarn she knit
that is, stockings to sell, and not for

39

a pair of “ sale stockings ;
one of the family to wear. “Sale stockings” had to be knit
very strong, and Rebecca knit every stitch nee knitting the
heels and narrowing off- the toes. ;

And then when they were done, the captain of a packet, who
was a good friend of. hers, took them over to Falmouth, Mass.,
and sold them for one dollar. And very proud was Rebecca when
he brought back that dollar to the Island of ae Vineyard,
where she lived, and gave. it to. her.

Then the question arose, What should she do with that detian’ 2
Should she buy something pretty to wear, or good to eat? Or
should she put it into a bank to grow? —

Rebecca thought it over and talked about it. One person would
say “do this,” another “do that.” But one day her uncle said,
“Tll tell you what to do, Becky. Just buy a lamb with it.
Then after a while you will have a big flock.” ;

Rebecca liked this plan, and bought a little ewe lamb. And
after a few years she did have a flock, as her uncle said she



REBECCA'S BIRTHDAY PRESENT.

would —a. flock of thirty sheep ! And was not that a fine Heth
day gift that could grow into thirty sheep? aap



I know a boy who wouldn’t let his mother brush his hair ps
He’d kick, and cry, and be as cross as any grizzly bear.

And one fine morn a little bird who chanced to fly that way
Built her a nest right in his curls, because they looked like hay.

— Harriot Brewer.



TIRED OUT. =



JACK,

oe he was a fine dog as to
size.

He lived in a small village in
the State of Maine. His name
was Jack, although papa said it

he | ought to have been Fourth of
BEEZ BS en | July, because he was so inde-
Gi; - ~ pendent.



You would have been afraid of
chim, I think, he looked so savage. Mary
/ Ann said he was like a singed cat, better than
eee he looked. I don’t know what she meant by
a singed cat, but-he was better than he looked. He was a good
watch-dog and would go on errands. Every morning he would
carry a note in a basket to the butcher’s, and bring home the
dinner. | | |

He would never touch the contents of the basket, nor let any
one else. He always had his pay when he got home. Once,
two dogs followed him a long way. They wanted a piece of
the meat, I suppose. Perhaps they thought he would “ divy,” as
the boys say when another’ boy has a big apple or something
else. good and they want some. But Jack was strictly honest,
and would do nothing so mean. He got out of patience, though,
after. a while, and, setting the basket down, stood’ beside it and
faced the two dogs with a low growl, as much as to say, “If
you have any business with me I’m ready to settle it.” But
they didn’t care to come any nearer. They stood back and































SOME OF JACK’S FRIENDS AND, NEIGHBORS.



JACK. —

looked at him a moment, barked once or twice, and sneaked back,
looking very much ashamed of themselves.

He liked to be in a crowd. On town meeting days, or when
a circus came to town, you might be sure of seeing Jack.
travelling show came to town one evening, and Jack was there.
No one knew how he got past the doorkeeper without a ticket.
But he did, and was there early. He walked right up to the
front and sat bolt upright on one of the reserved seats. He sat
there the whole evening. The showmen tried to coax him and
hire him, and even tried, standing at a safe distance, to drive
him, but he was so big and looked so ferocious, that he had
only to growl a little to make them glad to leave him alone.
Every one was amused. No one who knew him would help get
him. out. They liked to see him keep his seat.

He would not allow dog fights. When he had parted the fight-
ers once he never had to again. They remembered it. If there
was a fight going on in the street, and Jack was seen coming
towards it, the fighters would scatter quick. ‘They seemed to be
looking out for him.

His independence cost him an life. Our town was at the end
of a branch-railroad twelve miles long. A favorite lounging place
with Jack was about the station. Sand was filled in between the
rails and he liked to lie on it and sleep. Several times the train
hands had blown the whistle, and rung the bell and thrown
things at him, and after all had to stop and get down to drive
him away. It got to be a nuisance after a while and the
engineer said the next time, he shouldn’t stop the train.

Well, he kept his word, and poor faithful independent Jack was
killed. We felt badly enough, I can tell you.

— Jack's Little Master.







i

f
i
f







BLOSSOM AND BUTTERCUP.



HOW BLOSSOM WAS LOUND, LOST, AND FOUND AGAIN.

HOW BLOSSOM WAS FOUND, LOST, AND FOUND AGAIN.

We found her first one spring day ‘ying in the meadow among
the strawberry blossoms, violets and wind-flowers, and so we named
her Blossom. She came home that night on four rather weak
legs. But in three days those legs had grown so strong she
concluded to run away. She skipped. over the road into the
pasture. She trotted along the cow path leading to the’ other
road, going faster and faster and Sam trying to catch her.

The bars were down and she skipped across that road and into
Mr. Smith’s barn. Mr. Smith tried to catch her. But she leaped
by him and ran into his kitchen, and through the sitting-room
and entry out of the front door into the woods near by. And
then she was lost. For though we searched and searched, we
could not find her.

So then we let her mother, Buttercup, out to see if she could
find her. And Buttercup put her nose to the ground and _ fol-
lowed Blossom’s trail just as a dog would. She ran very fast
-and kept saying softly, .“ Moo-o0-00 ; ‘moo-oo-o0.” But Buttercup
could not find her. And when the sun went down that night
we had not found Blossom.

In the night Hero barked furiously. And next morning little
bossy-tracks were to be seen all over the road near our house.
Mamma said’ Blossom must have come back and Hero had fright-
ened her away. So the next night we shut up Hero, and left
the doors of the cow-barn wide open. And the next morning,
bright and early, when Sam wert to the barn, he found her!
Tying cuddled in one corner, chewing her cud. And she had
sucked every drop of Buttercup’s milk and Clover’s, too! She was
hungry, for she had been without milk forty-eight hours. —Z.





THE ROBIN.

THE ROBIN.
There’s a Red- breast in the tree-top,
And why does he sing so: loud?
Why, he sees the crest in the darkening west
Of a rising thunder. cloud. -
He has left his weaving and building,
And flown with glad light wing,
As if. to say—“Ah, rain to-day!
Now is, eal time to ang A

Whether i likes the lightning,
Or likes the wind to blow, 7

‘The gusty dash and the drenching slash,
I’m sure I do not know.

' But always before a shower
He seeks some topmost limb,

And clear and long pours forth the song
T call his rainbow-hymn.

Perhaps he knows how a sprinkle
Will bring on the apple boughs
A rosy screen and a budding green,
To cover his own ‘small house.

So, “Hide it! hide it! hide it!”
He calls to the rain and the tree,

“Of all things best I love that nest,
For robins that are to be!”
— Clava Doty Bates.







TRONING





THE SCREECH OWL.

THE SCREECH OWL.

Oh, he has a Roman nose,

_ Little - Tu-whoo !
And he’s soft with silky down, .
- And he’s tiny and he’s brown,
And the oddest. little thing

I ever knew.

If he could talk in words
At all, I think,
Instead of sitting there
With a silent, solemn air,
Doing nothing all day long
But blink, blink!

To the kitten he would reach
A friendly claw,
Say, “ We're cousins; aren’t our eyes
Just alike, so staring wise?
True, Pve wings, and you have none, yet
Shake a paw!

“For I live on mice and birds
Just like you,
And I roam and cry at night,
. And I sleep in broad daylight,
Though for purring, this is what
I say — Tu-whoo!”
— Clara Doty Bates.



“THN LITTLE INDIANS.”

“TEN LITTLE INDIANS.”
FIVE LITTLE INDIANS. MAKING WICKENPOS.

That is what they call the houses that they live in. They
are built of sticks and branches first. These are then covered
with mud and left to dry. When the boys have made. these little



te FIVE LITTLE INDIANS.

play houses, the girls will bring their dolls to put in them.
The dolls are queer little things, made of sticks and wrapped
in fur. Perhaps one of the girls will bring her collar of tusks
to show her playmates. She is very proud of it. The tusks
were all taken from elks that her father had killed.

— Helen E. Sweet.

























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































Wi Ht

ENGLISH CHILDREN ON AN ENGLISH MAY-DAY,





THE DISCONTENTED CHILDREN.

“THE DISCONTENTED CHILDREN.



THEY ARRIVE AT THE CHIMNEY.

Gikel went down the chimney
like a good boy. But, as usual,
Flenn made a fuss. She clung
fast to Aunt Stork’s neck. “TI
will not. go down the chimney!”
she cried.

“Then I will throw you down
said Uncle Stork,
“and leave you there,”

in the yard,”
and he
flapped his wings and came toward
her.

Flenn laid. her poor little head

down on Mrs. Stork’ s feathers at that, and followed after Gikel.

The Storks laid the children
down in a nice large cradle that
stood in the room. Then they
flew -back up the chimney. . “I
think their parents will find them
much improved,” said Mr. Stork,
“though I doubt if the aul ever
ceases to weep.”

Flenn and Gikel thought the
room had a dear, pleasant look,
_but they were so tired that- they
soon fell asleep.

Then the peasant and -his wife
and another woman came in and













































GIKEL AND FLENN IN THE CRADLE.



THE DISCONTENTED CHILDREN.

looked into the cradle. “Bless
my soul!” cried the peasant,
“how long the children are!”

His wife did not speak. She
was thinking of the children
she had lost. —

At that moment the little
Spitz dog came bounding up to
‘the cradle with a loud bark,
and this woke the children.

“QO my soul!” cried the peas-
ant’s wife, “it is Flenn and
Gikel, and the Spitz knew them.”

The children had opened their
eyes at the joyful bark of the
Spitz. They both threw them-
selves into their mother’s arms,





























































































THE SPITZ KNOWS THEM. and Flenn really smiled when
she saw her dog, and even Spitz looked astonished at that.

“We have been to see Uncle Stork,” said Gikel, and that is
all they would tell of their absence.

But since then the children have been contented. Flenn weeps
no more. Sometimes they see
Mr. and Mrs. Stork and the three
Stork-children fly by, and they
wave their hands. Mrs. Stork
returns the salute. But Mr. Stork -
feels sure that the smiling girl
cannot be Flenn.



= Adapted from the German. SOMETIMES THE STORKS FLY BY.



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WESSY.



JIPS FIRST SERMON.

JIP’S FIRST SERMON.

Wessy (his real name is Charles Wes-
ley Haynes) has a little dog Jip. He
also has a “minister papa.”

“Dippy,” he often says, “we mus’
be dood, we’s min’ster’s chil’en.”

One Sunday afternoon, mamma said
to papa, “Can’t you take Wessy to
church with you to-day? I have a
headache, and he has been so noisy
all the morning that the baby couldn’t
sleep. You can take him up into the
pulpit ; surely he can’t do any mischief
there,” for Wessy was very apt to get into
mischief. “All right, old fellow,” said
papa, “we'll have a fine time together.”

Wessy was very glad and ran off to find Jip. “Dippy,” he
said, “we’s doin’ to church; we’s doin’ into the preach-place.
Will 00 be a dood boy?” “ Wow-wow,” said Jip.

Now if papa or mamma had only heard this little talk! But
they didn’t; so Wessy tucked Jip under his over-coat, for Jip
was so small he could easily go into papa’s coat-pocket, they

, got into the sleigh, and no one but Wessy and Jip knew that



JIP IN THE “ PREACH-PLACK.””

he was there. They were a little late in reaching the church,
so papa hurried into the pulpit without taking off Wessy’s wraps.

Wessy sat very quiet at first, and looked around. Then when
papa began to preach, he grew tired. Jip, too, was getting un-
easy, so he unbuttoned his ulster and took the little fellow out.



THE LITTLE HOUSEKEHEPERS.

Papa saw that some of the people were smiling, and they kept
smilmg more and more. He began to be afraid Wessy was in
mischief. Pretty soon he heard a sharp, quick bark. He turned
around and there, on the sofa, sitting up straight and looking
very sorrowful, was Jip. By his side sat Wessy, his hat on the
back of his head, and a lead pencil stuck in his mouth for a
cigar. He had fastened a string to papa’s coat button and he
and Jip were “driving to Boston.”

Papa laughed, too, if he was in the pulpit, but he stopped the
play very quickly. And Wessy told his mamma that night that
the “preach place” wasn’t “nice one bit;” he “never wanted

to go there no more, and Dip didn’t never.”
— Kate L. Stevenson.

THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPERS.

One day in spring, I saw two birds dressed in: gray fly under
some leaves in an elderberry bush in my garden. They were
carrying twigs. When they came from under the leaves, I asked,
“What is your name?” They answered, “ Mew.’ I knew they
meant their name was Cat Bird. I told Mrs. Cat Bird I should
call her Kittie, and Mr. Cat Bird, Dick.

The twigs they brought were covered with thorns, and they
laid them across each other between some branches. Then Kit-
tie flew away, but soon returned bringing string, with which she
tied the twigs to the bush.

While she was busy Dick whistled a pretty 8 song. I scattered
on the ground pieces of string and cloth, and Dick picked them
up and carried them under the leaves. Then Kittie watched the
nest while Dick went for straw.

While she was watching, I carried a strawberry to the tree,



THH LITTLE HOU: ‘SERBEP ER &.

and said to her, “I
have a berry, pretty
bird, see?” She came
quite near my hand and
watched me while I ran
a grass through the berry
and tied it to a branch.
Then Kittie Bird hopped
on the branch and began
to eat the berry, but left
~ half for Dick.

One-day I whistled this:

a sot x oe
fpf ——————



DICK.







fy

Dick listened.a moment, then he tried to whistle it too. Every
day I fastened a berry on the branch and whistled the song.
Dick soon learned the tune, and when he wanted a berry he
came near my window and whistled it.

They lined the nest with bark that Dick jaa stripped from
dry branches, and then the nest was finished. And one day I
saw in the nest four baby birds. About three weeks later on I
found the nest on the ground one morning and the birds -gone,
but I heard Dick singing, not far away. I followed the song and
found, under a seat in a_ willow-tree, one little bird which
mamma-bird was feeding. Kittie never told me where the other
babies were, and I never saw them again. They all went away
the next day, but I heard Dick whistling afar in the oatfield:

aa

— Nina Stevens Shaw.















































































































































































































SPINNING THE SOFT WHITE SILKY YARN,



ALL ABOUT A PAIR OF MITTENS.

ALL ABOUT A PAIR OF MITTENS.

This is not-a made-up story out of my own
head, but a real story all about a pair of mittens.

There is a baby in the story and a small
poodle dog. The poodle dog’s name is Jumbo,
and they both live on 4n island.

THE PAIR OF MITTENS. Now Jumbo has the whitest, softest, silkiest
hair you ever saw on a dog. It makes him a fine warm coat
for winter, but in summer it is hot. So last summer it was all
cut off, and then Jumbo looked even smaller than ever. But he
was cool. . . .

And what do you think was done with his white soft silky
hair? Was it burned up? No. Was it thrown into the ash-_
heap? No. Was it done up in soft tissue paper and laid away
in a drawer, as baby’s curly locks are when they are cut off ?
No. Then what was done with it?

Well, on that island there lives a dear old woman, who knows
how to spin soft white silky yarn out of soft white silky hair.
So she brought down her pretty little foot-wheel from the gar-
ret, and carded and spun Jumbo’s hair into yarn.

And then baby’s auntie knit this soft white silky yarn into a
pair of soft white silky mittens just big enough for baby.

— dD.



cooL.



THH LADY OF THE CLOCK.

THE LADY OF THE CLOCK.

















THE OLD DUTCH CLOCK.



One day, a hundred and fifty years
ago, just at nightfall, a frightened boy

drove the cattle into the Norris yard,

and said that Indians in war-paint were
very near.

The men hurried to get their guns and
powder. The women hid the old silver
that had come with them from their En-
glish home at Epping. And Dorothy
popped a locket set with diamonds into a
big padlock. Dorothy was ten years old,
but very small. .

But Mrs. Norris wished only to know
where to hide her children. She looked
around; thea she whispered to Dorothy.
“Dolly, my blessing, can you get inside
the—” only Dolly heard, “with the
babies and try to keep them still if they
wake ?”

“Yes, mother,” said dutiful Dolly, “TU
try.” |

Her mother kissed her and made them
as comfortable as she could, thankful that
her little daughter was so very small.
Dolly promised that she would not come
out until she was sure the Indians had gone.

But the time was long, and she trembled and wept at the







THE LADY OF THE CLOCK.



THE LADY OF THE CLOCK.

dreadful sounds she heard. Once she peeped out through a bit
of clear glass, but fell back quickly and shut her eyes. At last
the dreadful sounds ceased, and she heard Mr. Lawrence and Cap-
tain Webster talking, and there were other voices she knew.
Then the door was opened and the wee tiny babies lifted out
from their nest of pillows still fast asleep. And her mother took
Dolly in her arms, and rubbed her stiffened limbs. For while
‘her two brothers had lain like little white mice in the bottom
of the old Dutch clock, Dolly had been obliged to stand braced
against the strong weights and works, and this had cramped her
all over. |

In after years, the children for miles around called Dolly,

“The Lady of the Clock.”
_# — Adelaide Cilley Waldron.









A QUEEN OF MAY.



THE SWALLOWS.

THE SWALLOWS.

Oh, why do they turn their faces
Away from the boughs with sania
And choose above all places
_ The old barn eaves?
To make beneath that cover
With mud and straw their nests,
Where mother swallows will hover
With silver breasts.

I love to hear them twitter

_ About it as they seek

In the sweet May-morning glitter
That gabled peak.

They say, “It is little matter
How gray the roof or high,

If when the rain-drops patter
Our house is dry. :

“And, besides, in wet dark weather _
The children have a way
Of flocking here together
For hay-mow play.
And every beam and. rafter
Rings with the merry noise
Of happy girl-talk, and the laughter
Of happy boys!”
— Mrs. Clara Doty Bates.





=
S
S
>

pe
5
J
<
=
+>
wy
©
=
3
~%
3
iS
8

mM

*| The May is here and soon,

il be,
ith down,

Cosey and sweet for you and me.

ti

*Neath thew

8 and lined w

uilé all of gras

Yow ll brood your tiny eggs, my dear,

The grub and fly PU bring to you—

Soonthe cheep” of our young we'll hear.

1 When Autumn comes

drest,

4 CTUMEON

Then in our crowded home, my dear,

A chorus of voices clear and full

Will sweetly sing as she draws near.

— From the French.



OUR CROWDED HOME,



SOME DROLL POSTHEN.











































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































A RUSSIAN MAIL SLEDGE, es

SOME DROLL POSTMEN.

_ We will first look at this letter. It is written
on a strip of green palm-leaf. It is then folded



and tied up with a bit of grass. The queer lit-
tle stick thrust through the grass is the pen. This
kind of letter is written in some parts of Hin-
doostan. The postman who carries it wears tight
trousers, a long white coat and queer turban.
He carries a stick with a sharp
iron point to defend himself from
wild animals. Six little bells are

fastened to this stick which he

jingles to frighten off the snakes.



He does not carry this letter

PALM-LEAF LETTER AND PEW Ve

in a bag, but slung over his
shoulder in the end of a cleft stick.





SOME DROLL POSTMEN.

with beads and shells.
Small brass bells about his
neck tell people he is com-







ing. The messenger wears























a red uniform and green



















A CHINESE MAIL PACKET.
turban, and carries a sabre. :

There is room on the back of his saddle for a passenger. His
two mail-bags are slung on either side. The postal system of
Japan is very ie The mails there are carried quickly. But in
China the postmen and mail packets
move slowly. In some parts of Rus-
sia the postman rides in a two-wheeled
cart, drawn by buffaloes. Some ride~
in sledges drawn by reindeer, horses,



7 or dogs.
ots We va
wy ey In some parts of Canada the mails
A JAPANESE POSTMAN, are carried by trains of sleighs, each

dragged by three dogs harnessed in single file.
Twenty years ago a pony
express carried the mails to-
San Francisco from the East.
In fourteen days these ponies
took the letters from New
York to that place. Across
the wide prairies the ponies
galloped with their brave rid-
ers on their backs. The dis-
tance was divided into sixty
miles, with log huts at each
end, for ponies and men to
rest. — ZH,



A CAMEL EXPRESS MESSENGER,









































































































































































































































































































































































ROSIE'S HAPPY Day.





KOSTE’S HAPPY DAY,

ROSIE'S HAPPY DAY.

Come, love, it is time to leave your play,

Cuddle down in my lap so cosey ;
And tell me what you have done to-day,
_ My own little brown-eyed Rosie.

“ Why, P’ve been Bo-peep ; I’ve a lamb
for a pet,
And [ve trimmed my bonnet with
flowers ;
BS f | But my pansy hasn’t unblossomed yet,
FLOWERS OF JUNE. Though I’ve watched it twenty hours.





“But I found some lions under a tree;
They were gold, like my Christmas locket ;
And some strawberries God had made for me,
And I saved you one in my pocket.

“Georgie calls my lions dandy flowers,
They will turn to a downy flutter ;
And he held a big one under my chin,

To see if I liked butter.

“There’s the manyest violets out in the field,
I think the sky must have rained ’em;

I’ve a hop-toad under a hazel bush,
And he winked his eyes till he strained ’em.



ROSIE’S HAPPY DAY.

“T was skipping along, and singing a song,
That a meadow-lark had learned me ;
When I stepped on a bee with my bare-headed foot,
He was hot as a coal, and he burned me.
“Then I cried till a birdie hopped on a limb, —
And called me ‘Sweet, so clearly,
I had to laugh and listen. to him,
For he looked like he loved me dearly.

“There are stars in the sky; Georgie says they are balls,
That they float round, round, up, upper ; .

But don’t you believe they are plates of gold,
Where the angels eat their supper?

“Why, what is the matter with my eyes?
They are getting so sandy and blinky ;

Tm tired talking, and couldn’t you tell
About little Willie Winkie? _

“T dess TIL say my ‘lay me down,’

If you'll give me three, six kisses;
And don’t you hope that God can make
The mostest days like this is?”
—Anna R. Henderson.















DANDY FLOWERS.



SUSIE’S GIFT.

_SUSIE’S GIFT.

When the little Gray
twin-girls were sick — that
time the scarlet fever came
to both of them at once
— their country cousin,
Susie Gray, was very, very
sorry for them. Susie had
‘never seen Amy and Annie,
but her papa had; and best
of all things she liked to
have him “tell stories”
about golden-haired Amy
and black-haired Annie.

Now Susie was a dear
‘little girl, very loving and
gentle, but very shy, and
she knew Amy and Annie
had French teachers and
music-teachers and. dancing
teachers, while she went to school in the old red country-school-
house, and learned her lessons from the little old common school-
books. So she had never written to her twice.

But now that they were sick, so very sick, Susie felt in her
heart. that she must write—that she ought to write. She worked
three days on two little letters, writing them many times over
before she had two that were free from blots and wrong spell-
ing and crossed-out words. And then she asked her mother to



SUSIE AND COO-COO.





THE LITTLE “INVALIDS’? READ SUSIE?S LETTERS,



SUSIE’ S GIFT.

let her send the sick girls her one pet—her beautiful purple-
and-white dove. “I must give them something, and Coo-coo is the
only pretty thing I have,” said Susie.

So the dove was sent by express, and two letters by the mail.
And when Amy and Annie were able to 0 out on the lawn
and sit among the daisies, the first pleasure they had was from
Susie’s letters and the news that a beautiful pet-dove was on the
way. “Dear cousin Susie,” said Amy, “she must be a perfect
little dove herself — so loving! Isn’t it funny that the letters are
exactly alike?” .

And when the beautiful dove came, they never called it her
“ Qoo-coo” at all, but “Susie.” And when in August they went
to visit this country-uncle, they never called their cousin
“Susie,” at all, but “Coo-coo!” — Sava E. Farman.



A JOLLY DONKEY,



COWARDLY JO.

COWARDLY JO.

“O don’t!” said Mamie, catching Ned’s arm. “Don’t hurt him.”
“ Hurt him!” said Ned, giving Jo’s ear another tweak. “ That's
just what I want to do.” Then he let go and Jo sneaked off.
“Why, what has he done?” asked Mamie.. a ie
“ Done!”- said Ned, so angry he could hardly speak. “He’s

been plaguing little Harry
Smith; jumping at him,

and scaring him half to ff

‘death. He’s a coward,
and I should like to lick
him within an inch of his
life. He’s always plagu-
ing little boys and girls.”

O how angry Ned was!
and justly, too. For what
is more cowardly than to
tease a helpless creature,
whether it be a small boy
or girl, a cat or a dog?
But Dick got paid in his
own coin that very night.
For Ned and Roy and Sam
hid near the door of Roy’s
house after dark and
jumped out at him with



































































































































































































































































































































































‘“o pon’r!”? SAID MAMIE,

such’ a yell! He too was “scared half to death” and ran and

dropped his marbles and lost them. Good enough for him! i JP

























































































































































































































































































NED AND ROY AND SAM WATCHING FOR JO,



“TEN LITTLE INDIANS”

“TEN LITTLE INDIANS.”

SIX LITTLE INDIANS DIGGING CAMAS ROOTS.

In the pleasant fall weather the squaws take the children into
the fields to gather camas. This plant looks like an onion and
has pretty blue flowers. Perhaps the children gather more flow-

Ee
63 tf

a) Ye
wes



SIX LITTLE INDIANS,

ers than roots. The squaws. dig the roots up with iron hooks,
while the men race their horses. The roots are put in coarse
bags and taken home. Some of them are eaten raw, and some
are cooked in various ways. The rest is dried, to be used in
the winter. There is a place called Camas Prairie, where some In-
dians live. —Helen E. Sweet.



OLD TIGH. 5.

OLD TIGE.

A large yellow dog named Tige had slept in the stable of two .
horses named Steve and Mollie, until he had become much at-
tached to them, and no one even of the family could venture
near them at night without making himself known to Tige.
And when they were to be removed to Texas, he would not be
separated, but made the long journey in the same car with them
to their new home, and there kept up the same faithful watch
over them as before.

But when their master died, and Steve and Mollie were sold
to strangers, Tige was .sent ‘to another home, where he was so
unhappy that after a time he was brought back and given to
the gentleman who bought. Mollie. : .

O, how over-joyed he was to see her once more! It seemed
. : as though he must have words
to tell his happiness. Again he
took up his faithful watch, never







leaving her by day or night, and
never happy but in her company,
until as time passed by, and he
was getting old, he came home >
-one day from a fight with
another dog, so badly wounded
in the mouth, that it was feared
he would die. His kind master
and mistress nursed him faithfully, and after a time he seemed
to be improving, but he had swallowed so much of the medicine
applied to his wound that it paralyzed -him, and he could not



MOLLIE.



































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































OLD TIGE AND BS MISTRESS.



MY NEIGHBOR.

walk, or use his legs at all.

Then every night when Mol-
lie was turned into the pasture,
he would drag himself to the.
fence and crawl through and
lie by her till morning, and
‘then crawl back again to his
place.

This he did till the night
before he died, when he was
too. weak to reach her, but in
the morning when she was
brought to the stable to be
fed her grain, he made one
last dying effort of love, and
dragged himself across the yard
to her feet, and there he died! *

This display of strong affec- «
tion of one dumb animal for



another drew tears from those _

who saw it, and if horses ever cry, Mollie would doubtless have

dropped some large tears also, over her old and faithful friend.
—-CACC.

MY NEIGELBOR.

My next door neighbor is fat and brown,
She wears a fluffy feathery gown;
Three little eggs are under her breast —
Who is my neighbor? Have you guessed?
— Harriot Brewer.



THE BOBOLINE.

THE BOBOLINK.

“Hello!” cried the bobolink, “hello!”
As he ran up the stair :
Of the sweet June air,
And called to a bumble-bee _ below ;
“Say, there, say, there, bee, keep away there !
I am here to watch you,
Fly, or Til catch you!”
And across the clover red the bee fled.

Then bobolink laughed, “What fun!”
And further up the stair
Of the sweet June air
Climbed till he saw a rabbit run:
Under the cover of the cool clover,
And he shouted loud and clear,
“Out of here! out of here!” —
And swifter than the bee fled she.

Then Bobolink gurgled, “Ho! ho!”
And down the sunny stair
Of the sweet June air
He ran to his nest below,
And to his mate twittered, bubbled and tttored,
“Big rabbit, little bee.
Are both afraid of me!”
“°Tis because you are so noisy,” said she..
| — Clava Doty Bates.





BABY SEAGULLS.