Front Cover
 Title Page
 A summer day
 The story Amy likes to hear
 The tulip-tree leaf
 Half-minute songs
 Why Pop staid behind
 My neighbors goat
 Arthur's first ride
 The boy who got a prize
 Nelly at the pump
 The story of Little Boy Blue
 Annie and her friends
 The foals in danger
 A dialogue by the seaside
 Fanny's mud-pies
 Ray and his kite
 The bird's-nest by the river
 Jack Horner
 The duck and her family
 The dancing sisters
 The children's art union
 Caroline's letter
 Daisy's puzzles
 The playmates
 The sand-heap at apple nook
 Nelly's company
 How we play doll party
 A merry Christmas
 Catching squirrels in Illinois
 A true story of a camel
 Christmas Eve
 A backwoods story
 By the fire
 The court martial
 Willy's new sled
 Little Winky
 The friends
 How a pony helped fly a kite
 Minnie and the duckling
 Mamma's story
 Little Estelle
 The canary and the mouse
 The duck and the sparrows
 Who's the rogue?
 Daisy's butter
 How Andy found comfort
 Mary's search
 The sulky oleander - Flora's...
 The doctor's visit
 Two little birds
 Benny's letter
 Frank's ride
 A letter-carrier
 Lucy's doings
 A sagacious calf
 The hand-organ man
 The birds and the pond-lily
 Safe home once more
 A dialogue
 Crying Frank
 Mamma's boy
 The jack-rabbits
 Rover and his friends
 What a horse had for luncheon
 Behind the bars
 The balloon
 The canary and the mouse
 How the dog had his likeness...
 Why Henry got home late
 Christine's fair
 Under Papa's helmet
 Story of a mocking-bird
 Lost in the woods
 How Oscar drove the sheep
 Dolly and Dot
 Life's morning and evening
 The brothers
 An egg-story
 Selling fish
 The tradespeople
 Rosy's surprise
 Saved by a sunbeam
 The kitten
 Back Cover

Group Title: Winning ways : pictures and stories for young folks
Title: Winning ways
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00081101/00001
 Material Information
Title: Winning ways pictures and stories for young folks
Physical Description: 1 v. (unpaged) : ill. ; 24 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Syndicate Trading Company ( Publisher )
Forbes Lithograph Manufacturing Company ( Lithographer )
Publisher: Syndicate Trading Company
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: c1891
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1891   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1891   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1891
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- New York -- New York
General Note: Contains prose and verse.
General Note: Cover lithographed by Forbes Lith. Co.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00081101
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002225260
notis - ALG5532
oclc - 191092005

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
    A summer day
        Page 3
    The story Amy likes to hear
        Page 4
        Page 5
    The tulip-tree leaf
        Page 6
    Half-minute songs
        Page 7
    Why Pop staid behind
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
    My neighbors goat
        Page 11
    Arthur's first ride
        Page 12
        Page 13
    The boy who got a prize
        Page 14
        Page 15
    Nelly at the pump
        Page 16
    The story of Little Boy Blue
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
    Annie and her friends
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
    The foals in danger
        Page 23
    A dialogue by the seaside
        Page 24
        Page 25
    Fanny's mud-pies
        Page 26
        Page 27
    Ray and his kite
        Page 28
        Page 29
    The bird's-nest by the river
        Page 30
        Page 31
    Jack Horner
        Page 32
    The duck and her family
        Page 33
        Page 34
    The dancing sisters
        Page 35
    The children's art union
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
    Caroline's letter
        Page 39
    Daisy's puzzles
        Page 40
    The playmates
        Page 41
        Page 42
    The sand-heap at apple nook
        Page 43
        Page 44
    Nelly's company
        Page 45
        Page 46
    How we play doll party
        Page 47
    A merry Christmas
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
    Catching squirrels in Illinois
        Page 51
    A true story of a camel
        Page 52
    Christmas Eve
        Page 53
        Page 54
    A backwoods story
        Page 55
        Page 56
    By the fire
        Page 57
    The court martial
        Page 58
    Willy's new sled
        Page 59
    Little Winky
        Page 60
        Page 61
    The friends
        Page 62
    How a pony helped fly a kite
        Page 63
        Page 64
    Minnie and the duckling
        Page 65
        Page 66
    Mamma's story
        Page 67
        Page 68
    Little Estelle
        Page 69
    The canary and the mouse
        Page 70
        Page 71
    The duck and the sparrows
        Page 72
        Page 73
    Who's the rogue?
        Page 74
    Daisy's butter
        Page 75
        Page 76
    How Andy found comfort
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
    Mary's search
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
    The sulky oleander - Flora's multiplication
        Page 86
    The doctor's visit
        Page 87
        Page 88
    Two little birds
        Page 89
    Benny's letter
        Page 90
    Frank's ride
        Page 91
    A letter-carrier
        Page 92
    Lucy's doings
        Page 93
    A sagacious calf
        Page 94
    The hand-organ man
        Page 95
        Page 96
    The birds and the pond-lily
        Page 97
    Safe home once more
        Page 98
        Page 99
    A dialogue
        Page 100
    Crying Frank
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
    Mamma's boy
        Page 104
    The jack-rabbits
        Page 105
        Page 106
    Rover and his friends
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
    What a horse had for luncheon
        Page 111
        Page 112
    Behind the bars
        Page 113
        Page 114
    The balloon
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
    The canary and the mouse
        Page 118
        Page 119
    How the dog had his likeness taken
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
    Why Henry got home late
        Page 123
        Page 124
    Christine's fair
        Page 125
        Page 126
    Under Papa's helmet
        Page 127
    Story of a mocking-bird
        Page 128
    Lost in the woods
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
    How Oscar drove the sheep
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
    Dolly and Dot
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
    Life's morning and evening
        Page 138
    The brothers
        Page 139
        Page 140
    An egg-story
        Page 141
        Page 142
    Selling fish
        Page 143
    The tradespeople
        Page 144
        Page 145
    Rosy's surprise
        Page 146
        Page 147
    Saved by a sunbeam
        Page 148
        Page 149
    The kitten
        Page 150
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

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Li;~:- '1


Clinning Lays

Pictures and Stories



Syndicate Trading Company
Newu York

Copyright 1891 by



Y THIS is the way' the i r i0-11n'1.- i lawns:
Rosy tints on flowers and trees.
Winds that. wake th birds and bees,
Dewdrlops on the fields and lawns,-
This is the way the moiuin- dawns.

This is the way the sun comes up:
Gold on brooks and glossy leaves,
Mist that melts above the sheaves,
Vine and rose and buttercup,-
This is the way the sun comes up.



This is the way the rain comes down:
Tinkle, tinkle, drop by drop,
Over roof and chimney-top;
Boughs that bend, and skies that frown,-
This is the way the rain comes down.

This is the way the river flows:
Here a whirl, and there a dance,
Slowly now, then like a lance,
Swiftly to the sea it goes,-
This is the way the river flows.

This is the way the birdie sings:
"Baby-birdies in the nest,
You I surely love the best;
Over you I fold my wings,"--
This is the way the birdie sings.

This is the way the daylight dies:
Cows are lowing in the lane,
Fire-flies wink on hill and plain;
Yellow, red, and purple skies,-
This is the way the daylight dies. GEORGE COOPER.



THE sheep lived in a beautiful pasture, and ate the grass
which grew among the daisy-flowers.
One day a naughty dog leaped over the fence, and bit one
of the sheep so badly, that she died. Then a little lamb
that was left without a mother ran about the field, and cried
as if its heart would break.


John, the black boy, heard the lamb, and was very sorry
for it. He took it in his arms, and carried it to Amy's grand-
ma's house. Grandma brought some milk from the dairy,
and Aunt Clara got a bottle to put it in; then Aunt Clara
held the bottle while the hungry lamb sucked the milk, just
like a baby. Every day Aunt Clara fed the lamb with the
warm milk.
The lamb grew strong and happy, and would lie down on
the hearth, and sleep by the fire, when the evenings were
cold. Aunt Clara named it "Lillie." Lillie used to run
about the yard, and make the biddies scamper. Sometimes
she would clatter up the stairway early in the morning, and
jump right into the middle of Aunt Clara's bed.
By and by, when Lillie grew bigger, she went to the pas
ture to eat grass as her mother did before; but whenever
any one went to the stile and called "Lillie, Lillie! she
would stop eating, and answer Ba-a-ah," and would run to
the stile and leap over, to be fed and petted.
The next spring, when the grass became green in the pas-
ture, Lillie came up to the stile with a darling little lamb of
her own by her side. And no naughty dog ever got that.
This is all true; for Amy's papa knows all about it. D. D. H.




THERE is a large tree that grows in the woods, which bears
a brownish flower shaped like a tulip, from which it has
been named the tulip-tree. When the leaves are all out
in the spring, ask somebody to show you a tulip-tree, and
get a leaf of it for you to look at; then you will remem-
ber the story that I am going to tell you.
Once upon a time, a little wren built her nest in an ivy-
vine that was growing on the side of a house. The place
chosen by Madam Wren for her home was just under the
window of a kind old lady's chamber.
The lady watched the birds day by day, and, after a while,
saw four little birds peeping out of the nest. Then she saw
the mother-bird feeding the young ones, every day, until



they began to grow large and strong; when the mother
seemed to say to them that it was time for them to get food
for themselves.
While Mother Wren was talking thus to her children, and
was about to give them their first lesson in flying, there
came up a heavy thunder-storm. The sky grew black, the
wind roared, the lightning flashed, and the rain came down
in torrents. "Oh !" cried the old lady, "the poor little wren
and her children will be drowned. I must take them. all into
the house."
So she threw up the window to take them in; and what
do you think she saw ?
There was Madam Wren sitting quietly in her nest, and
holding in her mouth the stem of a tulip-tree leaf. The leaf
was large enough to cover her and her whole family; and,
when she heard the window open, she looked up with her
head on one side, as birds do, and seemed to say, "Don't be
troubled about me: I am very comfortable. No rain comes
through my umbrella." AUTY POLL.


SING a song of winter, -
Frost and ice and snow!
And as good an air as any
The north wind can blow.

Sing a song of summer,-
Rosy days in June !
And leave it to the bluebirds
To see about the tune. A. D. .


HERE was a little girl whose name was Silvia.
Would you like to know why she was called
Silvia ? It was because the house where she
was born was in a wood; and the Latin word
silva means a wood.
If we had tried to make a name for her in English, we
should have called her Woody; but Silvia is a much pret-
tier name than Woody, I think.
Well, you must know that Silvia had a present of a little
dog. She called him Pop, because his little sharp bark
sounded to her like the popping noise made by corn when
it is parched over the fire.
He was a funny little animal. One day Silvia took her
doll and a small basket, and went out to pick berries. Pop
followed her, of course. They went more than a mile from
home. But, on her way back, Silvia lost sight of Pop. She
called him; but he did not come.
When she got home with her berries, she found that she
had parted company, not only with Pop, but with her doll
Rose. But she did not sit down, and cry over her loss. She
put on her plaid shawl, and started forth to hunt for Rose
and Pop.
The birds flew around her as she walked; for she had
been used to feed them with crumbs. One little sparrow
seemed to think it was a hard case that she would not give
him any thing; for he followed her a long way.
She said to him, "You dear little bird! I haven't a single
crumb in my pocket for you now; and I am in such a hurry,
that I cannot go back to the house for bread. You wait till
I come back, and then you shall have plenty."
Then the sparrow flew up on a tree; and Silvia walked on,



and called, "Pop, pop: where are you, Pop? Where have
you strayed to, sir ? Come here, Pop."
But, for a long while, no Pop made himself heard. At last,
as Silvia went into a thick part of the wood, and saw the
trees and bushes she had passed a short time before, she
heard a little sharp voice say, "Bow-wow, wow !"
"There he is! That's Pop!" cried she with a laugh; and,
sure enough, there he was, keeping guard over something
in the grass. And what do you think it was ? Guess once,
twice; and, if you do not guess right, I will tell you: it was
Silvia's doll Rose.
She had dropped it there out of her basket; and Pop, like
a good dog, had kept guard over it. He was too small to
take it in his mouth, and run home; but he did his best.
Silvia took him in her arms, and praised him; then she
picked up Rose, and went home. She did not forget her
promise to the little sparrow. She got some crumbs, and
fed all the birds; and they were not afraid, though Pop
barked at them in a very savage manner. EMy CARTER.
-----oo oQ -----


TOT is at the window-pane,
Watching little drops of rain:
Down the glass they pitter-patter;
Totty wonders what's the matter.
Thoughtfully she lifts her eyes
Upward to the darkened skies;
Earnestly and long she gazes:
Very sad her little face is,
As she turns and questions, "Why,
Mamma, do the angels cry ?" EMEROY HAYWARD.


> MY neighbor Smith has a
fine white goat he calls Dandy.
rThis goat has been so petted,
that he makes quite free with
--. the people he meets.
t '. One trick of his was to put
S-. '.-, his feet up against a wall so
-that I could not pass by him on
'.' the sidewalk. If I petted him a
-:') little, or gave him a handful
I- '- of clover, he would jump down
-:-- nd let me pass.
He is a very playful goat.
If he butts at me with his horns, he takes good care never
to hurt me. He loves children, and is always good to them.
The neighbors are all fond of Dandy; and it was with
grief, the other day, that we heard he had been hurt.
An ill-natured man was passing along on the sidewalk,
when Dandy, taking it for granted that he was a friend, put
his fore-feet up against the wall, as much as to say, You
can't pass here till you pay toll."
The man had a heavy stick in his hand; and, without sy-
ing a word, he hit poor Dandy a hard blow on the neck, uid
hurt him very much.
Never before had this good goat met with any thing but
kindness from men. Since he was struck, he never puts his
fore-feet up against the wall. Was it not a cruel thing to
strike him such a blow when he was only playing, and play-
ing harmlessly too ?


NCE there was a little boy of the name of
Arthur, whose one hope it was to have a ride
on the back of a horse; not of a rocking-horse
or a hobby-horse, but of a real live horse,-
a horse that could kick up his heels, and gallop.
This summer, Arthur went to a farm-house near the sea-
side. Mr. Gray, the owner of the house, had in his barn
an old cart-horse named Dick. Now, Dick was very fond of
children. I think it must have been because, when he was
tied up, and could not put his head down to reach the grass,
the children would pluck handfuls of clover, and feed him.
Susan Gray had promised Arthur he should have a ride
on old Dick. So one fine day she and her brother Tom led
the little boy out, and placed him on the horse's back.
Was not that a proud day for Arthur ? At first he held on
to Susan's arm; but then old Dick turned his head round, as
much as to say, "You need not be afraid of me, little boy.
Old Dick knows how to take care of children. He will go
so gently that you shall not fall."
Finding old Dick so kind and quiet, Arthur at last put
his legs astride on Dick's back, and took the reins in both
hands; and then, while Susan walked on one side, and Tom
on the other, he rode along the field, and down to the water's
How proud and glad he was to be able to tell the folks
now that he had had a ride on a live horse The dinner-bell
rang; but he did not want any dinner. It was better fun,
he thought, to ride than to eat.
At last' his mother came out, and saw him as he sat on
Dick's back, holding the reins, and nobody touching him;
for Susan and Tom had let go of him at his earnest request.


His mother lifted him from the horse, and kissed him;
and then Arthur said, May I not kiss old Dick for being so
good?" His mother laughed, and replied, "I think Dick
would be better pleased if you would give him a good
bunch of clover, or an apple."
Then Arthur plucked some clover, and gave it to Dick;
and the good horse was so pleased, that he followed Arthur
all the way to the farmhouse-door. IDA FAY.


Just before our last vacation, it was agreed among the
boys of our school that every boy should have a prize for
the thing in which he excelled. We chose a committee to
procure and distribute the prizes.
One boy, who was the swiftest runner in school, received
a picture of a hare and a tortoise. John Howe, who was a
famous whistler, got a stuffed canary-bird.
The boy whose hand-writing was best was presented with
a bottle of ink. The boy who was quickest at figures got a
slate-pencil. The poet of the school was much puzzled by
having a red balloon as his proper reward.
Henry Blow was looked on as the best speaker of pieces
on declamation-day; but all that he got was a tin trumpet.
His brother Charles, who prided himself on his good looks,
received a looking-glass and a comb.
When it came to the turn of Ralph Loiter, the boy
whose likeness you see in the picture, -he wondered a little
what one thing there was in which the committee would
think that he excelled.
Ralph did not know whether to laugh or cry when he
received a small wooden box on which was written, To the


best fly-catcher in school." He opened the box, and found
it filled with old cobwebs.
At first he felt like being angry; for the school-boys all
had a good laugh at his expense. Then Ralph thought he
would laugh too. But that night as he lay in bed, he made

.~ ~ ':>'


I ______

up his mind that he would try to excel in something better
than catching flies. He gave his mind to his books; and soon
the boys who had laughed at him found themselves far be-
hind him in their studies. It was a happy day for the flies
when Ralph was cured of his foolish and cruel habit.
Jon HIows.



SEE Nelly at the pump! She has persuaded her sister
Julia to pump for her. Julia was not tall enough to reach
the pump-handle: so the children turned an old tub upside
down; and then Julia mounted it, and pumped. Take care,
little girl, or you will have a tumble.
Now, Nelly had seen a man put his hand to the nozzle of
the pump, and drink: so she thought she could do the same.
But, in trying to do this, the water came down her neck,
splash, splash, splash, and wet her dress so, that she ran cry-
ing into the house; and her mother had to leave her work,
and put dry under-clothes on her little girl. ID FAY.



_______ /


TELL the Boy-Blue story," said my Neddy to me, when,
tired of building block-houses, he crept into my lap.
I have fallen into a habit of making out little stories for
Neddy, from his "Mother Goose book. Just now, the favo-
rite one is the story of Little Boy-Blue, which I write down
just as it was told to my own little boy an hour ago.
Mr. and Mrs. Blue, Little Boy-Blue's father and mother, lived in an old brown house,
ever and ever so far from neighbors. They had one little boy (the Boy-Blue of this
story), and a little girl called Daisy, with cheeks as red as a Baldwin apple, and hair as
yellow as cowslips.
These two children were own cousins to Little Bo-Peep.

"I knew that before," said Neddy, looking wise. "You
said so in the Bo-Peep story."
"Oh! I forgot: so I did," I replied. "But I did not tell
you that they went to school, winters, with Jacky Horner."


Did they ?" said Neddy. I wonder if Jacky gave them
any of his CI! ;-ti i, plums."
':Of course he did. He would have been a very selfish
boy if he had not. Don't you think so, dear ?"
Neddy nodded his head with a satisfied air.

When Boy-Blue grew to be a big boy, his father, who was a poor man, used to send
himi into the fields to look after the cows and the sheep. He had a tin horn, like that we
use to call the haymakers to dinner. It was painted red, blue, and green, in stripes; and
was hung round his neck with a red cord.
When the cows or sheep strayed away, he would blow on the horn as loud as he could;
and they-would come trotting back to him, the little lambs, the old sheep, the spotted
cow, the red cow, and the cow with a white face and long horns.

SI guess he called one cow Suky, another Bess, and the
white-faced one Mooly, as Cousin John did his last summer,"
said Neddy thoughtfully.
We will make believe he did, my boy."

One morning Boy-Blue got out of bed the wrong way. He put on his stockings
wrong side out, pulled his hair while combing it, and filled his eyes with soap-suds.
Ice ,rew crosser and crosser every minute, and came to breakfast looking naughty
ci.ough. They did not have hot buckwheat-cakes that morning, only rye-muffins with
butter and molasses; and that made him pout again.

Why, that's like me! said Neddy after a pause. "Papa
sent me away from the table once because I made up faces
at rye-muffins."

After breakfast his mother said, It is time to go to the fields, Boy-Blue."
"I don't want to go to-day," said the sulky boy. I hate sheep : they only say, Bah,
L~I!I' and cows are stupid."
eut his mother gave him his basket of luncheon, and kissed him on both checks ; then
:oo:i in the door-way, and watched him as he walked slowly away.
He will feel better when he sees his nice luncheon," she said as she turned back into
t.e kitchen to wash her milk-pans.
The cows and the sheep acted very badly that day. Boy-Blue chased them up and
down the fields, threw stones at them, and whipped them with birch-sticks.
It was a warm day ; and at last, all tired out, he sat down under a hay-cock, ate his
lhun'acon, and said to himself, "I don't care what becomes of those old cows; and I hope
Lthe lhecp will run away, and never come back "
lie lay back in the soft hay, closed his eyes, and was soon fast aslee. Then the
shep jumped over a high stone wall, into Farmer Turner's big meado.v, with its tall
grass just ready for mowing, and its great nodding yellow lilies.


The cows pushed through a weak fence, into a cornfield, and soon found mischief
enough to do. Mr. Blue, at work down behind the barn, not hearing the horn, said to
himself, "Boy-Blue is in trouble. I must go and look after him."
Mrs. Blue, who had come to bring him some hot doughnuts and a pitcher of coffee,
said, "Perhaps he has fallen into the brook. Do hurry! Mr. Blue, and hunt him up."
When Mr. Blue came to the field, he saw what mischief the cows and sheep were in;
and as he was a little lame in one knee, and did not like to run for them, he called out,
as loud as he could, -
Little Boy-Blue,
Come blow your horn 1
The sheep's in the meadow,
The cow's in the corn."
But, as Boy-Blue did not answer, Mr. Blue looked all over the field, and found him at
last under the hay-cock fast asleep.

"What a pretty, pretty story!" said Neddy. "Let me get
down now, and make a picture of Boy-Blue eating his bread
and cheese under the hay-cock."
So Neddy got down, spread a sheet of paper on the floor,
took his paint-brush and his little box of paints, and went
to work in good earnest.
A short time after, he brought me the finished picture of
a very blue boy, taller than the green hay-cock, who was
eating a huge piece of cheese he had just taken from a
purple basket; while in the distance a flock of pink sheep
were jumping over a fence, and three crimson cows were
eating up Farmer Dow's corn. s. B. T.


THE sunshine with its look of cheer
Peeps through the little window clear:
Is darling Annie yet awake?
Come, child, and see the morning break.

How soft the wind, that waves the bough
Against the panes, all crimson now!
It taps as if it meant to say,
"Get up get up! 'tis jocund day! "

And on the tree-top, high and green,
A little singing-bird is seen:
"The morning is so wondrous fine,
Come and enjoy it, Annie mine."

The dove is crying, Coo, coo, coo!
O Annie darling! where are you?
We all are trim and clean and white,
And Annie soon shall be as bright."

Then pussy cries, Mee-ow, mee-ow!
I've looked all round where is she now ?
My milk I want; oh, playmate dear,
Come to your pussy, quick come here! "

And Grip, the puppy, barks, Bow-wow!
She sleeps: no noise shall I allow:
All night, while little Annie slept,
Good watch before the door I kept."


"Cluck, cluck a voice is crying clear:
"Oh, see my troop of chickens here !
Oh, come! my little Annie good,
And scatter round our morning food."

And Chanticleer is calling too:
" I'm hungry: cock-a-doodle-doo! "
He struts about, and wonders where
Lingers the child with golden hair.

The duck runs waddling: Quack, quack, quack I
What keeps our little Annie back?


For her I've hunted far and near:
Some harm has come to her, I fear."

The red cow to the meadow going
Looks round, and then commences lowing:
" Come look at me a minute, do:
Where are you, Annie? Moo, moo, moo! "

Paws with his foot the horse, and neighs!
He loves to be where Annie plays:
" Get up, get up, come to my side,
The day is fine, come take a ride."

But Annie sleeps, and hears it not;
Cat, cow, and horse, are all forgot :
She heedeth not the cry and din,
Till steps her own dear mother in.

She kisses Annie on her cheeks:
The darling starts and smiles and speaks:
" I dreamed, mamma, of seeing sheep:
Is't late ? Why did you let me sleep?"

Then mother helps her to her feet,
And makes her toilet all complete:
She combs her ringlets in a trice,
Till Annie looks all neat and nice.

The little girl then says her prayers,
And to her breakfast goes down stairs:
When that is ended, she will go
To see the friends who love her so.

--~;:--_- : -----,;,_~=-t -: -- : ]:..

---: -
.. ..

IT is related, that, in the month of April, 1754, owing to
a strong wind blowing up the River Elbe, the Island of

'): I I'~~.~ I I'-

-~- I ..'" -- ----- -

L6- : --- : --
_;-_ =.. --

: _- ._ _-- .;- __ ----

IT is related, that, in the month of April, 1'754, owing to
Strong wind blowing up the ai er Elbe, the Island of





Kroutsand was entirely covered with water, to the great alarm
of some horses, which, with their foals, had been grazing on
it. They set up a loud neighing, and huddled together
within a small space. How to save the foals seemed to be
the chief object of their consultation.
The plan which they adopted is shown in the picture.
Each foal was placed between two horses, and, being thus
wedged up, was kept entirely free from danger. The horses
retained this position for six hours; nor did they relinquish
their burden till, the tide having ebbed and the water sub-
sided, the foals were placed out of danger.


Charles. WH, mother, when we were here this morn-
ing, the sands were all bare, and I could walk over them to
the foot of those cliffs yonder.
Mother. -Yes, Charles: it was low tide then, but it is high
tide now. Where your father is fishing, we stood and picked
up shells; but look! the water must be overhead there.
Emma. I wish that father would come away from those
rocks, and let the poor fishes alone.
Mother.--And yet I know of no one at the table who
seems to eat her fish with a better relish than you do, my
Emma.- But I would rather go without fish than have
to catch them.
Charles. I hope we shall not have to depend for our
dinner on what father catches. He has been there an hour,
and he hasn't caught any thing yet. The fish dodge his
hook, but run away with his bait.


7 -7




Mother.- You must remember that your father has not
had much practice in fishing. We have lived far away from
the sea and the great lakes.
Charles.- I hope he'll not be so unlucky as a fellow I
saw this morning, who, in throwing round his line, caught
the hook in his own mouth. Oh didn't he scream? And
wasn't he mad when the boys began to laugh?
Emma.- I hope you didn't laugh, Charles. The poor
man must have been in great pain.
Charles. Oh! I didn't laugh; that is to say, not loud
enough for him to hear me: but I couldn't help thinking
what fun it must have been for the fishes to see the catcher


caught. Halloo! father is pulling in a flounder, I do believe.
No, he isn't. It is only a bunch of seaweed. Ha, ha, ha!
Father. What are you laughing at, sir ? Stop that!
Mother. He is laughing to see you stand like patience
on a monument, trying to get a bite.
Father. Well, well, don't laugh. I find I was not born
for a fisherman. I give it up. My genius lies rather in
picking berries. What say you to a huckleberry frolic ?
Mother. -It is just what I would like.
Charles. Hurrah for the huckleberries! That's the
most sensible thing I've heard yet. EDWARD STA5N1OPE.


UNDER the apple-tree, spreading and thick,
Happy with only a pan and a stick,
On the soft grass in the shadow that lies,
Our little Fanny is making mud-pies.

On her brown apron and bright drooping head
Showers of pink and white blossoms are shed;
Tied to a branch that seems meant just for that,
Dances and flutters her little straw hat.

Gravely she stirs with a serious look,
"Making believe she's a true pastry-cook:
Sundry brown splashes on forehead and eyes
Show that our Fanny is making mud-pies.

But all the soil of her innocent play
Clean soap and water will soon wash away:


*: ~ -.- ~
I, I

Many a pleasure in daintier guise
Leaves darker traces than Fanny's mud-pies.

Dash, full of joy in the bright summer day,
Zealously chases the robins away,
Barks at the squirrels, or snaps at the flies,
All the while Fanny is making mid-pies.

Sunshine and soft summer breezes astir,
While she is busy, are busy with her;
Cheeks rosy glowing, and bright sparkling eyes,
Bring they to Fanny while making mud-pies.

Dollies and playthings are all laid away,
Not to come out till the next rainy day.
Under the blue of these sweet summer skies,
Nothing's so pleasant as making mud-pies.


MANY years ago, there lived in a village in the great
"Prairie State," a boy whose name was Ray. He was
thought to be an odd boy; and you will think him so too
when you have read this story.
Ray liked well enough to play with the boys at school;
yet he liked better to be alone under the shade of some
tree, reading a fairy-tale or dreaming day-dreams. But
there was one sport that he liked as well as his companions:
that was kite-flying.


One day when he was flying his kite, he said to himself,
"I wonder if any boy ever tried to fly a kite at night. It
seems to me it would be nice. But then, if it were very
dark, the kite could not be seen. What if I should fasten a
light to it, though ? That would make it show. I'll try it
this very night."
As soon as it was dark, without saying a word to anybody,
he took his kite and a lantern, and went to a large open lot,
about a quarter of a mile from his home. Here he sat down
for a few moments. Well," thought he, this is queer.
How lonely and still it seems without any other boys around!
but I am going to fly my kite any way."
So he tied the lantern (which was made of tin punched
full of small holes) to the tail of his kite. Then he pitched
the kite, and, after several attempts, succeeded in making it
rise. Up it went, higher and higher, as Ray let out the
string. When the string was all unwound, he tied it to a
fence; and then he stood and gazed at his illuminated kite
as it floated high up in the air.
While Ray is enjoying his sport, let us go back to the
village, and see what is going on there. Some people who
are out in the street see a strange light in the sky. They
gather in groups to watch it. Now it is still for a few sec-
onds; then it seems to be jumping up and down; then it
makes long semicircular sweeps back and forth through
the air.
What can it be ? says one person. How strange!" says
another. "It cannot be a comet; for comets have tails,"
says a third. "Perhaps it's a big fire-fly," says another. At
last some of the men determine to find out what this strange
light is, whether it is a hobgoblin dancing in the air, or
something dropped from the sky. So off they start to get
as near it as they can.


While this was taking place, Ray, who had got tired of
standing, was seated in the fence corner, behind a tree. He
could see the men as they approached; but they did not see
him. When they were directly under the light, and saw
what it was, they looked at each other, laughing, and said,
"This is some boy's trick; and it has fooled us nicely. Let
us keep the secret, and have our share of the joke."
Then they laughed again, and went back to the village;
and some of the simple people there have not yet found out
what that strange light was. When the men had gone, Ray
thought it was time for him to go: so he wound up his
string, picked up his kite-and lantern, and went home. His
mother had been wondering what had become of him.
When she heard what he had been doing, she hardly
knew whether to laugh or scold; but I think she laughed,
and told him it was time for him to go to bed. AUGUSTA.

-----ao~O c----


NOT more than a quarter of a mile from our house is our
river; and sometimes, on pleasant summer days, my sister
Alice and I take a row there in our small boat. You may
see us in the picture if you will look sharp.
One day, as we were rowing up the river, a bird flew with
a wild cry from the bushes on the bank; and I said to Alice,
"That bird is in trouble. I wonder what is the matter."
"I hear the voices of boys there in the bushes," said
Alice; "but I cannot see them. I should not be surprised
if they were meddling with the poor bird's nest."
"Let us go and see," said I.
So I pulled on my left oar, and sent the boat round to-


V J"

wards the bank; and then I tied the boat to a stone, and we
both walked up the bank, and behind the trees, till we came
to a little hollow, where we saw two boys throwing stones
at a bird's-nest in a tree.
We could see the heads of the young birds; while the
cries of the old bird, their mother, still came to us from
the opposite shore.
Boys," said Alice, you ought to be ashamed of your-
selves. Stop stoning that bird's-nest! You shall not do it !"
"Pooh !" said the older boy, "you are only a girl. How
are you going to help yourself?"
"Put down that stone !" said Alice. Not till I've had
another shy at that nest," said the bad boy.
But, just as he was going to throw it, Mr. Bacon, the
owner of the grounds, who happened to be near by in the


woods, came up and seized the boy by the arm, and said,
" What do you mean by trespassing on my land ?"
The boy was frightened, and dropped the stone; and Mr.
Bacon said to him, "I forbid your coming here again for one
month. If by that time you can promise me you will com-
mit no cruelty against the birds, you may come here."
The two boys then ran off; and Mr. Bacon and Alice and
I watched till we saw the mother-bird come back to her
young. She thanked us with a sweet song for what we had
done; after which my sister and I bade Mr. Bacon good-by,
and went on board our little boat.


LITTLE Jack Horner
Hie sat in the corner,
S// Crying for something to eat;
I In came Mother Hubbard,
And went to the cupboard,
S And brought him a nice piece of meat.

II |Then little Jack Horner
Came out of the corner,
--- I And threw his nice meat on the floor:
S" I want some mince-pie !
Was the naughty boy's cry
t t '' '':...As he banged on the dining-room door.

Si. "I don't like cold lamb;
Give me raspberry-jam:"
But old Mother Hubbard said, "No I
If a boy cannot eat
1 .Such nice, wholesome meat,
|1" ,To bed without food he must go."
I So little Jack Horner,
I." -!" Who cried in the corner,
I Was washed clean and put into bed.
__ _-- After sleeping all night,
He awoke fresh and bright,
And was glad to eat plain meat and bread.

7 -

INS, _z


HERE is a picture of a fine brood of ducks. The mother-
duck has no trouble in teaching her young ones to swim.
They take to the water as readily as she does.
But I have a true story to tell you about one youngster
in a brood of ducks, that never could learn to swim.
Once upon a time, a dear, kind lady, who lived in the
country, had a tea-party for her nieces and nephews. They
came early. There were four little girls and four little boys.
Before the tea was ready, she asked them if they would
not like to go to the poultry-yard, and see the chickens and
ducks. The chickens lived in the yard, and were very happy
to stay there; but the ducks liked to waddle off to a pond
not very far away, where they amused themselves by swim-
ming about, and sticking their long bills into the mud.


Well, when the little boys and girls went to look at the
ducks, what should they see but a little chicken riding round
and round the pond on the old mother-duck's back !
This made them laugh very much; and, when they asked
their aunt to explain such a funny sight to them, she said,
that, when the old duck was ready to sit, one chicken-egg
had been put in the nest with the duck-eggs: so with the
brood of ducks there was hatched one chicken, which the
mother-duck attended to just the same as she did to her
In course of time, when their feathers were well enough
grown, the mother coaxed them all to go to the water, telling
them, in duck-language, that it was good for them to swim,
and that all they had to do was to put one foot before the
other, and dip their heads under the water, and splash it up
over them, and that they would find it very cool and nice.
The little ducklings tried it, and found it all their mother
had told them; but our poor little chicken felt afraid of
being drowned, as it surely would have been had it tried to
do as the little ducks did.
Then it seemed as if the mother-duck and the chicken
had a long talk; and the duck appeared to say, "My dear
little child, while I go and take a swim with your brothers
and sisters, I cannot let you stay here all alone. You must
go with us; and as you have not web-feet, as we have,
I can think of nothing better than for you to hop up on
my back; and thus you shall have a ride while I have a
So the chicken had a ride every day on the old duck's
back, till the warm summer-days were gone; when the
farmer's wife put them all into coops to be fed with corn
and meal, that they might be fat enough to have on the din-
ner-table on Thanksgiving Day. ATY pou.


COME, Nelly, the sunbeams are glancing;
And why should not we, too, be dancing?
See the leaves on the maple and cherry;
And why should not we, too, be merry.

Just hear the dear birds, how they twitter!
We'll mope not while gladness is fitter.
The honey-bees, too, they are coming:
Just listen, and you'll hear them humming.

Joy, joy, preach the birds and the flowers:
Oh! waste not these bright summer-hours.
See the trees and the sky and the river:
Be happy, yet think on the Giver.


"TEN children, a cat, and a raven! What a noise they
are making!" growled old Mr. Gruff as he looked in at the
basement-window of a house in Philadelphia, and saw them
at play.
Look here, children," snarled Mr. Gruff, if I were your
mother, I would give you all a good whipping, and send you
to bed." With these words Mr. Gruff took his ill-looking
face away from the window, and passed on down the street.
"This is the Children's Art Union!" shouted back Max
Korner. Stop there a minute, Mr. Gruff, and I will paint
your likeness."
Max mounted a table at once, and, with his mahl-stick in
his left hand and his crayon in his right, began to sketch on
the wall a likeness of Mr. Gruff.
The older children looked on, and laughed to see an out-
line of Mr. Gruff's face begin to appear on the wall.
But what is a mahl-stick ? asks one of my little readers.
Before I go any farther, let me say that a mahl-stick is the
stick used by painters to keep the right hand .steady. The
word is from the German mailer, a painter.
Now, you must know that Mr. Korner, Max's father, paints
walls and ceilings. He is a German; and he has an old Ger-
man chair, which you may see in the picture.
He is very kind to Max, and lets him bring the school-
children into the yard on Saturday afternoons to play.
But one afternoon Max took them into his father's work-
room; and there they did some mischief, I am afraid, in up-
setting jars of paint and soiling the brushes.
Tom-tit, Max's little brother, amused himself with a tub
of liquid plaster, taking it up in his hand, and pouring it

1 0 11 :0! J ill II '''I
Illiill Jill! Iiililll 1 1:11111,111111
L'T 7

y- 111.111 1-I ___ __-



back, till at last he looked as if he had been whitewashed
all over.
Arthur Rupp lay on the floor watching his brother Oscar,
who had begun to -paint a picture. Little Gertrude Bonn,
who had been hiding under the table, put her head out to
see what the cat was about.
As for the cat and the raven, they saw no reason why they
should not have a good time as well as the children: so the
cat smelt of one of the jars of the paint; while the raven,
with a straw in his mouth, looked round to see what nice
piece of mischief he could do.
The two girls, Anna and Helen Brown, and their brother
Sam, are watching Max while he is drawing that likeness of
old Mr. Gruff Sam has tied a handkerchief round his mid-
dle for an apron; for he has a paint-brush in his hand, and
means to paint a picture of something when he gets a chance;
but first he must have a good laugh at Max.
Anna has been drawing a picture of Helen on her slate;
but I do not think it is a very good likeness; do you?
Helen has her sketch-book under her arm.
But who is that little fellow kneeling on the old-fashioned
chair ? That is Master John Henry, and he is trying to
copy on paper the picture that Max is making on the
I see one more merry face in the party; and that is the fat
face of little Hans Bruckner, who looks up from the side of
the table, and thinks he would like to be at a Children's Art
Union every day of his life.
Hark! There's a knock. Somebody is coming!" cried
At once the cat crept into a corner out of sight. The
raven, who was in the act of upsetting a cup of paint, ran
under the table. Max jumped down from the table.


"Now, you little mischief-makers, what have you been
about?" cried Mr. Korner, coming into the room.
But, when he saw the likeness of old Mr. Gruff, he laughed,
and the children all laughed too; and Mr. Korner said, "Come,
now, all of you into the dining-room, and get some peaches."
-----o o: oo----


I LIVE in a beautiful country-home in Georgia, on a pretty
river, and with mountains around us. I have four sisters
and two brothers. I am the eldest, and I am ten years old.
We live seven miles from a town, and our papa drives there
almost every day.
We have a little terrier dog whose name is Juno. When
it is time for my papa to come home from town, Juno jumps
up to listen at every wagon that comes by; but, when she
hears the sound of papa's buggy, she runs out on the piazza
to meet him, and never makes a mistake.
One day she was sitting in the dining-room with mother,
and she heard the rumbling of wheels. She pricked up her


ears and listened: then, as if not quite sure, she looked at
mother to see if she would get up; but mother did not
move, so Juno lay down again.
We have a little gray donkey, and a cart for him to draw.
He does not like to have any one ride on his back; but, if he
is harnessed to the cart, he can carry six children, and papa
The water-melons are ripe now, and every afternoon we
put the donkey to the cart, and bring home a load. My
Uncle Robert has made a picture of the donkey, the cart, and
If you like what I have written, I will tell you something
more about them by and by. c. s.


LITTLE DAISY is five years old :
Hair a tangle of red gold,
Eyes like violets wet with dew,
Lips where pretty pearls peep through.

When the bells began to say,
".Thi s is Washington's birthday,"
"Yes," said Daisy, very wise,
"He's the man who made the pies."

When the spring began to grow,
Daisy thought her flowers were slow:
Curious why they showed no shoots,
She pulled them all up by the roots.


HAZEL-EYED Jane and her pretty dog Jip, -
Fond little playmates: they frolic together
Out in the meadow on bright summer days,
Down on the hearth-rug in cold stormy weather.

She pulls his ears, and he laughs with his eyes;
Then jumps on her shoulders, and tumbles her over;
Up again, in a trice, with a gay little shout,
She runs, and he follows her through the red clover.

Then dolly must ride on his back to the ball;
And Jane makes believe he's a horse of gay mettle.
"Get up, sir !" she cries: "we shall never be there.
"See, the sun in the west is beginning to settle.

"Sweet dolly is frightened; she really looks pale;
Her hair's out of curl you have trotted so hard.
There! the tea-bell is ringing, and I must be going:
Stay here, pretty dolly, with Jip for your guard."


,- .
h, '-'--. -- ,-_.


"How shall we amuse the little boys to-day ?" was the
daily question at Apple Nook.
Winkie and Bertie had a city home; but in one corner
of its small yard stood two friendly apple-trees, which made
a nice shade for the little boys in warm days.
When Bertie was about two, and Winkie four years old,
their mamma said to their papa one day, "I think our boys
must have a sand-heap to play in."
Winkie was delighted, for he had seen one at his little
cousin's; and, when the joiners were making a pen for it
under the apple-trees, he watched them with great interest
and told them to "be sure and make it big enough."
Then the old sand-man came three times with loads of
sand; and Winkie took his wheelbarrow, and helped wheel
it into the pen from the street. Then, when the pen was
nearly full, his young friend Freddie Wilder, little Bertie,


and himself, all went to work with their shovels, digging for
dear life.
First they made deep caves, or dens, by covering their feet
with the sand, and then drawing them out carefully, leaving
a deep hole. Then, of course, their Noah's-ark animals had
to be brought out to live in the dens.
Sometimes Freddie's sister Emma would play with them;
and then they would make gardens with nice paths and
flower-beds. Dandelions and other wild flowers would shine
out there for an hour or two, and then hang their heads,
and die.
One day the boys thought they would play "trim soldiers'
graves :" so they buried several dolls, -one of them a boy-
doll with a real soldier's cap on. They made nice little
graves, covered them with flowers, and made most doleful
music with tin pans and spoons from the pantry.
The sand-heap has been an institution" now for two
years. When spoons, knives and forks, pans, and kettles
are lost, the cook says, 0 Mrs.! look in the sand-heap.
Those young rogues carry every thing out there "
Bertie asked his mamma very soberly, a few days ago, if
he could not have her sewing-machine in the sand-heap, as
he heard her say it was out of order; and, when he heard
his sister express a wish for a new piano, he exclaimed, Oh,
goodie! then we can have the old one in the sand-heap!"
In pleasant weather, from seven in the morning until
nearly seven at night, the little feet and hands are busy in
that wonderful sand-heap.

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


NELLY'S house was on the door-step, and she was going
to have company. She went down to the other end of the
walk, where Harry lived, and rapped on the fence.
Harry did not seem to hear her at first. Perhaps that
was because he was so busy making pies. He had some
currants, and some sand for sugar, and was stirring them
briskly together in a broken lamp-chimney.
Nelly waited a little while, and then rapped again; and
this time Harry shouted, Come in! "
How do you do, Mr. Rice ? said Nelly. It's a beau-
tiful day, isn't it ? "
"Yes," said Harry; very fine. Won't you take a
seat ?"
"I'm Mrs. Bradley," said Nelly, seating herself upon the


block of wood that was Harry's sofa. "I'm going to have
company, and I want you to come to tea."
Harry dropped his currants, and took his hat down from
the fence.
"I don't want you to come now," said Nelly. It is
morning now. I don't want you to come until afternoon.
The lowest step is my parlor; and after dinner I shall be
there, and then you may come."
Harry waited until he saw Nelly seated in her parlor, and
then went to make his visit. Besides Harry, there were
Nelly's little brother Willy, and Dinah the cat.
They had a footstool for a table, and pretty little dishes
with gilt bands and flowers. They had real bread, and cake
too, and currants for preserves. Nelly poured the water
into the little cups, and pretended to put in sugar and cream.
Harry sat on the other side of the table, and passed the
Little Willy did not know how to play having company,
and soon ran away to play with his ball. As for Kitty, she
played with her tail, and acted so badly, that Nelly had to
tell her that she must go away, and have her supper by
After Nelly and Harry had eaten up the bread and cake,
they washed the dishes, and put them away. Then Harry
asked Nelly to come and see him some time, and said, Good-
by, Mrs Bradley." FORSYTH.


I HAVE a dear little sister named Marie. She is six years
old, and full of fun. We have very nice times together.
On Christmas, Santa Claus brought Marie, among her
other presents, a beautiful large doll, with a set of dishes.
We both had plenty of candy, and other dolls besides; and
now we play doll-party very often. I will tell you how.
First we set the dishes around on the table as mamma
does when she has company. Then we put water in the
milk-pitcher and teapot, and sugar in the sugar-bowl.
Next we put candy on the plates. We play that some is
jelly-cake, some cream-cake, and some chocolate-cake. When
the table is all ready, we invite and assist the dolls to the
table, and seat them around us.
I sit at the head of the table, and Marie at the foot. I put
sugar from the sugar-bowl in the cups, then water from the
milk-pitcher, which we play is real milk. I then pour water
from the teapot into the cups, and we play that this is real
tea. I pass it to each doll; and Marie puts cake in each one's
Our dolls sit very quiet and straight at table, and behave
very finely; and we play that they eat and drink a great
deal. But, really, their mammas, who are Marie and I, eat
and drink the cake and tea. Marie slyly eats Fannie's cake,
and I drink Bessie's tea; and then they must be helped to
some more. And so we amuse ourselves till the cake is all
eaten, and the tea all gone.
After tea, the dolls are taken to the parlor, where they
have a nice play with Marie, while I wash the dishes and
put them away. When we have played with them as long
as we wish, we take our dolls to their different rooms, which
we call their homes; and then our doll-party is over.

'4' ^ J.*?I~s?* --I *

-BRIGHT, clear December day
& --was over the earth like a smile.
S' The sun shone; but it was not
0 L warm enough to melt the snow
,' ,that lay on the ground, and
streaked the branches of the
_"_' leafless trees.
It was the day before Christ-
S'. mas. The children, that morn-
ing, had been aroused an hour
earlier than usual. Little Emily
Shad been the first one out of
... bed. Wrapping a shawl about
her, she took a big bell, and
rang it, so that all the sleepers
could hear.
"That's right, Emily!" cried John, the eldest brother.
"Ring away; and rouse all the folks. We want breakfast
early, so that we can go to the woods and return, before the
snow begins to melt."
Edward, the next brother, jumped up, and began sing-
ing, -
Christmas comes but once a year
Waken, lords and ladies gay!
IWhat a lovely, lovely day!
Up, up, boys and girls !"

"I'm not going to be the last,'.' cried Arthur, the youngest
of the boys, springing to the washstand. Hi! Isn't the



water cold, though ? Jack Frost has been at work. Look
at the windows. Is Mary awake ? "
"I'm almost dressed," cried Mary from her little room.
And so, after breakfast, John drew out his sled from the
woodshed; Edward shouldered an axe; all put on their mit-
tens; and Gay, the little terrier-dog, barked eagerly at the
prospect of a frolic.
They went to the woods, and selected a couple of ever-
green-trees, which Edward cut down. The larger tree was
placed on the sled, and the smaller tree Mary carried over
her left shoulder; while Arthur and Emily followed with
bundles of the evergreen creeper in their arms. This
would serve for festoons and wreaths.
All now being ready for a start homeward, John picked
up the sled-rope, and began to neigh and prance like a horse.
" Whoa, sir cried Edward, with the axe over his shoulder.
And little Gay, humoring the joke, and making believe that
he thought John was old Whitey, the cart-horse, rushed in
front of him, and jumped up and barked, as if to stop him.-
The children all laughed to see Gay enter into the fun;
but, when Mary made believe beat old Whitey with the little
tree, Gay left John, and began to bark at her in earnest.
And so, laughing and shouting, the five children went over
the crisp snow till they arrived at their pleasant home.
Father and mother came out on the piazza to welcome them
"But did they have a merry Christmas ?" Oh, yes!
Santa Claus did not forget them. The trees were hung
with drums, trumpets, dolls, balls, books, slates, and all sorts
of pretty things. All the poor children in the neighbor-
hood were invited to be present, and share in the gifts. If
you want to get some idea of their happy faces, just look
at the initial letter of my story. EMILY CARTE.


IN Illinois, there are gray squirrels that look and act a
little like the prairie-dogs of the Far West. They live in
holes in the ground, and make such havoc with the farmers'
corn, that the boys have full license to catch them.


Now look at the picture, and I'll tell you how they do it.
Each boy takes a long string, and makes a loop in one end
of it. Then he lays the loop-end of the string over a
squirrel-hole, and, with the other end in his hand, lies at
full-length on the grass, and keeps very quiet.
Pretty soon the squirrel puts its head out. Quick as a
flash, the boy jerks the string, and the squirrel is a prisoner.
In the picture, one of the boys, you see, has just caught
a squirrel, and seems to think it fine fun. It may be fine
fun to him; but what is it to the poor squirrel ? For my
part, I have a good deal of sympathy for the squirrel; and
I hope that little fellow behind, standing up so straight, and
watching the whole operation, will be smart enough to keep
himself out of harm's way.
Run away, little squirrel, and don't go into your house
while there are any boys in sight. Never go home till
after dark; always come out early in the morning. S.
:-.' ++- ,++ = /--,+-+.-_ ..+,'.. ,+ !i.- + ,. .--- : =: :-;
,I ".. o .+ ++' -',+." -'--
--b: ':.iG,- <--i + .-. +-.'.,,,. +.= L _i ,, .~
D,. PA'.: ~ .',".,.L ..m .- '/-: + .. -+ + m ._

after dark; always come out early in the morning, s


I DARE say many of my little readers have seen a camel;
but I don't think they ever saw such a funny camel as I saw
in London last year.
Taking my little son with me one pleasant morning, we
drove to the Zoulogical Gardens in Regent's Park. These
Gardens contain the largest collection of animals in the
world. One must spend a whole day there to see it
thoroughly. We spent a good part of the day, and it was
there that we saw this wonderful camel.
He was a very big fellow, and had for his own apartment,
all to himself, a circular piece of ground surrounded by an
iron railing. But the remarkable thing about him was, that
he was going through the most singular antics, racing around
his enclosure on three legs, and dragging the other after him
as if it were broken.
A crowd of boys stood around him, shouting with laugh-
ter at this odd performance; and I soon discovered the secret
of the creature's gambols. A little lame boy had been in
the habit of running round the circular enclosure, rattling
his crutch against the pavement, to the great delight and
amusement of Mr.. Camel, who, after numerous visits from
the boy, had come out with this remarkable imitation.
Now, a camel is not a graceful beast at any time; and,
when he attempts to mimic a lame boy, he presents a very
funny appearance. I asked the boy if he fed him often;
and he said, Oh, yes I always bring him something to
So whether the camel had an eye to the boy's good things,
or whether he played the mimic just for fun, we shall never
know. At all events, he did it to perfection, and I never
was more amused in my life. a. c. w.


IT was Christmas Eve; and little May and her sister Sarah
sat in their night-dresses, warming their bare feet at the
bright fire, and looking at the stockings which their mother
had hung up ready for the visit of Santa Claus.
"Do you like Santa Claus, May ? said her little sister.
Why, yes, of course I do! replied May. "But I don't
think he does right always."
0 May said Sarah, you ought not to say so. Last
year he gave you a beautiful doll, and a magazine that
keeps coming every month, and a great many nice things
"Yes," said May, "I know it;" and then she sat, with
her dark eyes looking into the fire, for several minutes with-
out speaking, yes," she continued at last, he has


always been very good to us, sister dear; but I do not think
he is good enough to poor children.
"Do you remember how sober little Jenny Pherson
looked last Christmas, when we asked her if she hung up
her stocking? She said she did, and that her little brothers
hung up theirs (poor lame Dicky and all); but the stockings
were all empty in the morning. And then her eyes filled
with tears; and she said, I guess Santa Claus does not care
for poor children.'"
"I have not liked him so well since that day; for, if he
were truly good, he would not pass by the poor."
"Perhaps he forgets," said Sarah, he has so much to
do." And then the two sat looking thoughtfully into the
fire again.
"I will tell you what we will do," exclaimed May: we
will write him a letter, and ask him to remember."
Their mother, interested and amused, gave them paper;
and this is the little letter May printed, for she had not
learned to write : -

DEAR MIR. SANTA CLAUS, -Will you please to think of all the poor
little girls and boys in this world to-night; and, if you have not enough
things to put in all their stockings, please keep some out of ours, and
give them part; and then everybody will be happy, and we will love you
very much. Amen. From MIAY AND SARAH.

Sarah ..:-.-. l May to write the "Amen" at the end of the
letter, because she said it looked nice.
The letter was folded, and pinned to the toe of one of the
stockings; on the outside," May said, "so that Santa Claus
would be sure to see it." Then the little heads nestled side
by side upon their pillows to dream of well-filled stockings
in the morning. AUNT FANNY.


MANY years ago there lived in the backwoods of Nova
Scotia a poor family by the name of Burns. Their house,
which was a log-cabin, was miles away from the nearest
One day in the winter, when the ground was covered with
snow, Mr. Burns took his old mare Polly, and went into the
forest to cut some wood for fuel, leaving his family at home
in the cabin.
When he arrived at the place where he was in the habit
of getting wood, and was about to begin chopping, he saw
on one of the branches of a tall birch-tree a large wild-cat,
or lynx, quietly glaring upon him as if getting ready for a
He had no weapon but his axe; and this could be of no


use until the lynx was close upon him. So he stood still,
watching the creature while thinking what was best to be
done. He soon made up his mind.
Keeping an eye on the wild-cat all the time, he took all
the harness off old Polly, except the collar, hames, and
bridle. Then he took a piece of birch-bark, and wrote
something on it with the point of his jackknife. He stuck
the bark in the head-stall of the bridle, turned the mare's
head towards home, and gave her a smart cut with a stick.
Glad to be free from her load and harness, Polly kicked
up her heels, and started off on a gallop, and did not stop
till she got to the door of the cabin.
When Mrs. Burns and her son Johnny, a boy twelve
years old, saw Polly galloping up, they were much alarmed;
for they thought some accident had happened. But, seeing
the piece of birch-bark in Polly's head-stall, they took it out,
and read what Mr. Burns had written. It was this, "Bring
the gun quick !"
You may be. sure that Johnny Burns lost no time; but
taking the gun, and the powder-horn, and the pouch of
bullets, he jumped on old Polly's back, and galloped to the
place where his father was standing, axe in hand, watching
the wild-cat. Mr. Burns then shot the lynx, and brought it
home on top of his load of wood. This is a true story.

.,-. -. ----
-." >14'
r -1 '
-I <4


DoWN in the darkness there twinkles a light:
Fanny is choosing our apples to-night,-
Great ruby-red ones and golden and green,
Ripest and sweetest that ever were seen.

Grandmother sits in her snowy white cap,
Smiling, and smiling, her work on her lap,
Looking so dreamy, she's thinking, I know,
Of happy times vanished, oh, long, long ago!

How the wind whistles What care we for that ?
Windows may rattle, and blinds go rat-tat:
While we are nestled, all cosey and warm,
Close by the fire, we can laugh at the storm.


Only don't close all the shutters to-night:
Some weary man may be cheered by our light;
Some little child may come in and be warm,
Safe from the bitter wind, safe from the storm.

Gh- r .. -, -r ._ .. -,I' .


NUTCRACKER, you have been tried by the court-martial, and
found guilty, guilty of disobedience to your superior officer.
Thrice did I try to make you crack the nice plump nut that
lies at your feet; and thrice did you refuse to do it. So
stand you there, sir, miserable culprit, with your eyes fast
Soldiers, take warning by the fate of this unhappy indi-
vidual, and always obey orders. If your commanding officer
tells you to jump down your own throats, do it,-do it at
once, without a murmur.
Nutcracker, it is now my painful duty to carry out the
sentence of the court. Prepare yourself, O Nutcracker!
Soon will a well-aimed shot from the mouth of this cannon
blow you to pieces. Now, then, Nutcracker, be ready.
One, two, three, bang !


WILLY lives at the top of a hill. His father works in a
shop at the foot of it. Last winter he bought Willy a new
sled. It is painted red; and its name is Snow-bird."
Every noon, when the weather is pleasant and the sliding
good, Willy puts on his overcoat, jumps upon his sled, gives
a push, and away he goes down the hill to call his father to
Come, papa, dinner's ready," says Willy. Papa comes
out of the shop; Willy hops upon his sled again, hands papa
the cord, and is drawn up the hill, papa acting as the horse,
and Willy as the driver.
Get up, pony, get up shouts the driver.
One day an ox-team was coming up the hill just as Willy
was going down. Willy could not stop Snow-bird; neither
could he steer it out of the road. What should he do ?


The man who was driving the oxen was a kind, good
farmer, and had a little boy at home who called him papa."
When he saw Willy coming down the hill so fast, he walked
ahead of his team, and caught the sled just in time to save
Willy from being run over.
From a window of his shop, Willy's father had seen his
little boy's danger. He came running up the hill, all out
of breath, and was very, very glad to find that Willy was
After thanking the kind farmer, he took a seat beside
him on the ox-team; and the two men talked about their
little boys as they rode along; while Willy, seated on his
own little sled, which he had tied to the big ox-sled, followed
close behind.
And so the strong oxen drew them all to the top of the
hill. C. TrIWINa.


MARY was about four years old, and the youngest of a
large family of brothers and sisters.
She often teased her mother to allow her to sit up after
supper as long as the others. She did not think it was
right that she should always be put to bed so early; and
one evening she was granted permission to remain up as
long as she liked.
But she soon grew weary of looking at her books and
pictures, and was fast nodding off to the land of dreams.
When roused by her mother, she exclaimed, 0 mamma,
I'm not one bit sleepy, only my eyes are so winky But
in less than three minutes she was fast asleep.
After this we called her Little Winky." AUNr LIZZIE

-. 1

10A -- -r
7--I,- I~5~



RALPII spent last summer in the country, where the grass
grows green, and the brooks go dancing and singing down
the hillsides. He liked the country very much. He liked
to look at the hills all checkered over with sunlight and
shadows, great heaps of green laid up against the blue
sky, so high that the clouds seemed to rest upon them.
He liked to go out in the fields among the sweet new hay,
and to ride into the barn on the load. He had a bosom-friend
in the old dog Rover. He was intimate with all the cows,
and was very fond of the society of the calf.
But his greatest delight was not any of these. You could
never guess it. I will tell you what it was. It was riding
There was a speckled mare on the farm. She had a mild
eye, and very quiet ways. Her movements were slow and


gentle. I will tell you the truth about her; but you must
not whisper it to Ralph, for he would be quite indignant.
This horse was old, quite old. She had outgrown her
frisky, coltish ways; outgrown the brisk trot of her riper
years. She liked walking better. I am not sure that she
did not prefer standing still.
The gentleman with whom Ralph was staying would sad-
dle old Speckle, put Ralph on her back, and the little boy
would ride up and down the road as far as he pleased.
Didn't he feel big then ? You should have seen him.
But all pleasures must have an end; and so did Ralph's
summer among the Vermont hills. He had to part with
the dog and the calf, and-hardest of all-from old
Speckle. Perhaps he will see them again next year.
F. A. B.

'* I wisH you could see our
'. '' dog He is a large black-and-
S.. *II I '' .white fellow-; and his name is
.Pi rince. He is a very useful
'' 'J''' dog; for he kills all the rats
1 |' and mice he can.
When Prince was about a
.ilyear old, I had a pet kitten
Named Minty.
-'. -' As they grew up, the cat
--a. and dog became the best of
friends. They ate and slept
and played together; and, what was funnier still, they
hunted rats together. When the cat died, Prince seemed
to feel very lonely. CLARA.


HAL and Johnny were making a kite. When it was done
they said, Now we must go and fly it." So off they started.
Hal went first, carrying the kite; and Johnny ran along
behind, holding the end of the kite's tail in one hand, and
the ball of twine in the other. After a short walk, they
spied an open lot all fenced round; and Johnny said, Here
is a good chance, Hal."
"Yes," said Hal; but there is a pony in there."
"No matter: he will not care," answered Johnny.
"Well, we will try it," replied Hal; and the two little
boys pushed the kite carefully under the fence, and then
crawled through themselves.
The pony was quietly feeding in a far-off corner. But
he was young and frisky; and when the boys began to
shout and run, trying to get their kite up, pony thought it


meant fun. He pricked up his ears, and began to trot
toward the party.
The children were so busy, that they did not notice the
horse. Hal was running with the string, and calling out to
Johnny, who was holding the kite, "Let go let go, Jack!"
Suddenly the pony sprung into a gallop, and in a moment
was between the two boys, with the tail of the kite caught
in his mouth, and twisted about his head.
When Johnny saw the pony coming so fast, he began to
run away, and Hal dropped the string, and did the same.
The pony, when he found he had hold of such a queer
thing, was so frightened, that he ran faster than either of
them. The kite dangled at his heels as he cantered, adding
terror at every step; and the ball of twine, unwinding far
behind, was bobbing up and down.
Soon pony came to the fence, which he cleared with one
bound. Here the cord snapped, leaving the ball on the
other side; while the frantic horse rushed on through the
street. The little horse never tried to fly a kite before, and
it was not strange that he made funny work of it.
On and on he ran, the kite's tail so twisted around him
that he could not shake it off, and the kite, torn to bits in
the race, still thumping against his heels. By and by the
poor creature got so out of breath that he could not run
any more. A kind man went up gently, and patted him.
Then he stood still while his good friend unwound the
string, and put on a bridle.
Hal and Johnny, all out of breath too, soon came up,
only to find their kite a perfect wreck.
Pony was led back to his pasture as gentle as a lamb; and
Hal and Johnny went to work to make a new kite. But
both of them thought pony was not much help in kite-fly-
ing. This is a true story. arY i.

- ~ -,


I WANT to tell the boys and girls who like good sto-
ries a true story about a little girl named Minnie, who
lives on a lonely farm on Cape Cod.
This little girl has a brood of ducklings. She has always
fed and taken care of them, and she loves them dearly.
Not far from Minnie's house is a very deep well, with a
high curb around it. One day a cunning little duckling,



while running around the well, found a wide crack, through
which it poked its little body, and down it went into the
If it had been a chicken, it would have very soon sunk,
and we should have heard nothing more about it; but,
being a duck, it swam about in the water as bright and
happy as ever.
When Minnie found where her poor little duckling was,
she was very wretched; and she resolved at once to try to
rescue it. Ier father was away: so she ran to her mother,
and begged her to let her go down the well on a ladder, as she
had once seen a man do. Her mother would not consent.
Then she wanted to be let down in the bucket. When
her mother said No to that, she was not at all discour-
aged, but was just as determined as ever to save the little
duck. She knew that whatever was done must be done
quickly; for the water of a well is very cold, and she was
afraid that the duck would get tired, and chilled to death.
So she ran to her father's barn, and got a basket, tied a
rope to the handle, and let it down into the well, hoping
that the duck would swim into it. She tried this for some
time; but the basket kept moving about, and frightened
the duck away.
Then she remembered that her father had a duck made
of wood, called a decoy, which he used when he went out
shooting. She found the decoy, and tied it firmly inside
the basket, so that it would float at the top. Then she let
the basket down into the well again.
Just as soon as the duckling saw what was in the basket,
it fluttered its little wings, and came sailing up to the
wooden image. I can assure you, it was not many seconds
before the duckling was drawn up, and landed safely on the
ground, to Minnie's great delight. E. C. s.


ONE evening, just as it began to grow dark, all the chil-
dren came racing into the room, and clustered about
mamma's chair, waiting for her to come down.
"I love mamma best of all," cried Fanny, as the door
opened, and mamma came in. "I love her better than
you do," shouted Freddy. If a bear should come to eat
her up, you should see how I would take care of her. I
am mamma's soldier."
Mamma laughed; and, as she sat down, they all asked
for a story: so she began, -
When I was a little girl, I lived on the bank of a lovely blue river.
All summer long the little bright waves danced in the sunshine. My
father often took me out in his boat; and I would pick the tall reeds
which grew near the shore, and weave them into baskets.
We lived in a small house close to a high bridge. I used to listen
for the sound of horses' feet as they went over the bridge when I was
playing on the shore under it.


In the winter the ice was thick all over the river; but, as spring ap-
proached, it would break up and go out to sea.
One night, when the river looked as white and solid as ever, I had
gone to bed early, and was having a good, sound sleep. All of a sud-
den I was awakened by a loud noise. Some one was running up the
street, calling out, The ice is going !" and I could hear it crashing
against the bridge.

SOh! what is that ?" cried Harry, jumping up quickly;
while Freddy, who was going to take such care of mamma,
sprang to the very top of her chair; and Kitty screamed
with fright.
Only a little mouse, silly children!" said mamma.
"Open the door, Harry, and let him run out."
But not a child stirred. Mamma had to take care of the
mouse herself; while her little soldier" stood on the sofa,
and called, "Is he gone, mamma ?
At last the children had all settled down again, and wanted
to hear the end of the story. So mamma went on, -

The next thing I heard was my father's voice outside, saying, -
Open your window, Susy."
I did so, and put my hand right out into the water ; for it was just up
to the window-sill.
SPut on a shawl, and get into the boat as quick as you can," said
my father.
I did so, and was rowed to dry land ; where some one took me in his
arms to my aunt's house.
I thought I should never see my home again; but the water went
down the next day, and left the house all safe, though we never lived in
it any more.

Here mamma stopped; and just then we heard a footstep
at the front-door.
There comes papa," said she. Run, little soldier, and
let him in. Don't forget to tell him how you took care of
maWmma! L. E. W.

~-- ~ ~ I- _-


SEE little Estelle
At Dr. Green's bell:
On tiptoe she stands,
And lifts up her hands;
But, try as she will,
Too short is she still.

On her neck falls her hat;
But she cares not for that,
For Johnny is sick,

And mother said, Quick!
Run, little Estelle,
Ring Dr. Green's bell."

With swift little feet
She ran down the street;
And up on the sill
She sprang with a will:
But the knob of the bell
Was too high for Estelle,


" How can I? Oh, dear! "
She cried with a tear.
But a chaise now is seen:
" Here comes Dr. Green! "
A moment or more,
And he stops at the door.

" What troubles my pet
With lashes so wet,
And apron so clean? "
Asked good Dr. Green.
Said Estelle, I ran quick,
Because baby is sick."

" We'll cure him, my dear;
Get in, never fear:
Too high was the bell
For little Estelle "
As she sat by his side,
With a smile she replied, -

" Your bell is too high
For girls small as I:
So what I would say
Is this, if I may, -
'Could you not, just as well,
Have a little girls' bell ?'"


I HAVE a canary-bird. He is a splendid singer, and very
., '. tame. He is allowed to leave his
cage every day. When he is
-. ---- hungry or thirsty, he goes back,
eats and drinks, and then comes
South, and flies and hops about the
;' 1 room. Sometimes he hops on
SI my knees, sometimes on my head.
l e is very fond of getting on my
-- :table, and pecking among my
Papers. He comes so close to
l 'i my pen at times, when I am
I.- writing, that I have to push him
away, which he does not like at all. He knows me, and
will sit on my hand for several minutes, when I will let him.


His cage hangs by the window. When the shade is
pulled up, the tassel of the string lies on the floor, and the
string runs up past and close by the cage.
One day I was writing. The bird, whose name is Par-
son," was hopping about the room; and every thing was as
quiet as quiet could be.
Suddenly the bird began to run very fast towards the
window, chirping as though greatly pleased. I looked, and
there was a little mouse -just the prettiest mouse you
ever saw running towards the window, along the side of
the room. He and the bird played with each other, -some-
times Bo-peep," and sometimes running after each other
under the bookcases and tables. Evidently they were old
Presently the mouse ran up the string of the window-
shade, jumped into Parson's cage, ran along the perch, put
his head into the cup, and took a good drink of water.
Then he ran to the opposite side of the cage, put his head
into the other cup, and went to eating the bird's seed.
Wasn't that cute ? Parson flew on top of the cage, and
looked at the mouse all the time.
I kept very quiet, and watched the whole with great
interest and pleasure. While the mouse was eating, I rose
and went to the cage. What do you think the mouse did ?
Run away? No. He just turned round, and sat in the
cup, and looked at me out of two little shining eyes, and
with a little tremble about the mouth that seemed to say,
"Please do not hurt me: I was very hungry."
And I couldn't find it in my heart to hurt the little
This is a true story. If you like it, I will tell you
some other time more about that mouse,- what he did, and
what became of him. c


DuCK. Look here, Sparrows, is this fair play ? Who
told you you might taste my dinner ?
1st Sparrowo. We only took a few bits of bread and
potato. See, there's a bone of beef and the head of a fish
left for you, enough for any reasonable duck.
Duck. But why did you not wait till you were invited,
before eating out of my plate ? Iave you no manners ?
2d Sparrow. Times are hard, Mr. Duck. It is a rough
winter, and the ground is covered with snow. Sparrows
must live, you know.
Duck. I can count nine of you on the branches there.
Why don't you go to the pig-sty, and make the pig share
with you, instead of robbing a poor old duck ?
3d S)arrowo. We prefer your society to the pig's.
Duck. Well, you are the sauciest sparrows of my
acquaintance. No sooner do I get my head into the plate
than down you come and put in your bills.
4th Spjarrow. Try it again, old fellow.
1st Sparrow. We sparrows have a hard time of it this
winter, Mr. Duck. If it weren't for a dear little girl up at
the house, there, who throws crumbs out at the door for us,
I don't know what we should do. Not a worm, not a bug,
is to be found on the trees ; and the ground is frozen stiff.
Duck. Is that any reason why you should deprive me
of my dinner ?
1st Sp)arrow. It's a reason why we should get a dinner
where we can. That's good law among sparrows, anyhow.
Duck. Well, now see if you can't behave yourselves
while I finish my meal.
[The Duck begins to eat; while the Sparrows all fly down on the
rim of his plate, ald help themselves.]

N7 % .; ''' 9

.A *


A ROGUISH old fellow is prowling about
In field and in garden: you can't keep him out.
No matter how tall
You build up your wall,
He'll find a way over in spite of it all.

On the glass of the window his pictures you'll see:
A grand exhibition! (admission is free:)
He works hard at night
While the stars glitter bright;
But, when the sun rises, he keeps out of sight.


AMIoNG Daisy's Christmas presents was a churn, which her
little brother Dick bought her with his own ten-cent bill,"
as he called it. He had kept the bill rolled up in a little
round ball for six weeks, waiting for the day before to
spend it, that wonderful day before Christmas, when so
many mysterious bundles are hurried through the streets,
and hidden away in drawers and closets.
Daisy had talked so much, since she was in the country
last summer, about helping Nancy make butter, that Dick
said he thought he would buy her a churn, and perhaps
papa would buy her a cozo; and then she could make the
butter all her own self.
Daisy was eight, and Dick only five years old : but still
they enjoyed playing together very much; for Dick was


gentle and kind, and not a noisy and rough boy like her
twin-brother Harry.
The toy-churn pleased Daisy very much. She ran to the
kitchen with it, and coaxed good-natured Bridget to give
her "two or three spoonfuls of the tip-top of the milk."
"Now mind and don't grace yeeself," said Bridget, "and
I'll give ye a dollar a pound for all the butter ye'll make,
my little lady."
Daisy moved the clapper to the churn up and down, up
and down, for a long time, just as she had seen Nancy do
the large one at her grandmother's in the country; and
after a while the cream began to grow thicker, and the
stick did not move so easily.
"Oh, I believe my butter has truly come !" exclaimed
Daisy, dancing merrily.
Just then her brother Harry came in.
"See what I have made! said Daisy, proudly holding up
the churn.
Harry was a noisy fellow; and he shouted at the top of
his voice after looking at the contents of the little churn, -
"Oh, ice-cream, ice-cream Daisy has made some ice-
cream for her doll "
Well, I should think you did scream," said Daisy.
" Don't you know BUTTER from ice-creamz ?"
Bridget helped the little girl take the butter out of the
churn, made it into a nice pat for her, and stamped it with
the letter D. Then Daisy put it on the tea-table to show
to papa and mamma.
Her papa said, if she liked to make butter as well when
she was sixteen, he would buy her two little Alderney cows,
and she might make enough for the whole family. Daisy
thinks she shall always like to make butter, and so she
expects to be the owner of two cows by and by. MAMMA.

ANDY had been careless in playing ball, and had broken
a pane of glass. His aunt thought he ought to be pun-
ished: so she locked him up in the woodshed, after hav-
ing placed a jug of cold water and a slice of bread on an
old chest, which served at once for a table and a bench.


At first Andy felt rather sad. But he thought to him-
self that he had enough money of his own to get the pane
of glass mended, and that he would run to the glazier's,
and have the job done, the minute he was let out of
Then the little boy began to cheer up; and as he lifted
his head, and opened his eyes, he saw something that soon
made him lose all recollection of the broken pane.
On the floor were two little mice, who, tempted by the
smell of the nice bread, had come out of their holes.
Andy was a humane boy; and he said to the mice, You
poor hungry little things! you shall have a good time,
whether I do or not."
Andy was not aware at the moment, that in trying to
make others happy, though those others were only two
poor little mice, he was helping himself out of his own
Moving his hand quietly towards the slice of bread, he
crumbled up some of it, and threw it gently down for the
mice to eat. At first they ran off; but by and by, seeing
that Andy did not mean them any harm, they came boldly
back, and ate up all the crumbs.
Then Andy threw down some more; and this time they did
not run. They ate all that was given to them, and looked
up, as much as to say, "Thank you, little boy: we should
have no objection to a few more of those nice crumbs.
Times are hard, and people say there's a great panic some-
Andy gave them some more; and then, as his eyes
caught sight of a mouse-trap that lay on the floor, he
said, You poor little fellows! I have broken bread with
you; and the laws of hospitality will not permit me to see
you caught and killed before my sight."


So he got up and kicked the mouse-trap under a big
basket, where it could do nobody any harm.
By and by Andy's aunt unlocked the door, came in, and
was surprised to find him looking so bright and happy.
"Your mother has just come back from market," said she,
"and has been scolding me for shutting you up."
"You did perfectly right, aunty," said Andy; and I
mean to have the pane of glass mended at my own ex-
pense. Now, please tell me one thing: When one has
made an acquaintance, and broken bread with him, is it
not right to keep that acquaintance from running into
danger, if one can do so? "
Of course it is, you queer boy! said aunty.
"You're sure of that, are you? asked Andy.
"Of course I am," replied aunty.
"Then I'm all right," said Andy; "for you must
know, aunty, I have been dining on bread with two little
mice, who entertained me greatly; and so, rather than see
them caught, I kicked the mouse-trap under the basket."
"But you've caught me instead of the mice," said
aunty, laughing. "0 Andy, Andy! What shall we do
with you ? DORA BuSIDE.

^^ _>-^^^^ ,1 ,
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I "


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^ "-- --- <..-. : -- ; .- .- -.- --Y-- f 1

THERE was a little girl whose name was Mary. She was
about five years old; and she had been reading so many
fairy-stories, that at last she grew almost to believe them.
She hoped she might live to see a fairy.
One day, as she was walking through the woods, she saw
a nest of five little birds on a bush. She bent over them,
and touched their soft little heads. They opened their bills,
and seemed to ask for food. She found some worms, and
gave them; and the little birds swallowed them eagerly.
But Mary saw the mother anxiously flying from bough to
bough, and chirping as if afraid her little ones would be
harmed. I will not distress you, dear mother-bird," said
Mary. So she walked away, and, after picking some fresh
blue violets, went home, and gave them to her grandmother.
The old lady was much pleased, and said, Thank you,
you good little fairy! "


The next day Mary went out to fill a pitcher of water at
a pump. She saw an old woman sitting on a stone near by.
The old woman had a cane in her hand, and looked so much
like the picture of a fairy in one of Mary's story-books, that
Mary thought the good time had come, and this must be a
fairy indeed,-one who could make pearls and flowers drop
from her mouth if she pleased.
The old woman asked for a drink of water ; and Mary let
her take a sip from the pitcher.
But are not you a fairy? asked Mary.
The old woman laughed, and replied, The only real
fairies, my dear, are our own good deeds and good thoughts.
Kind words are often better than pearls. If you cheer the
sick, and help the poor, your good acts will make you hap-
pier and wiser than any fairy can do."
Mary walked away, thinking on what the old woman had


_- : ,''i '" ci _"_,---'^ -,
-1 _' .., -. --.

\ l- K
"--'s '* '

That afternoon, as she sat on a log of wood, watching
the bulrushes as they swayed to and fro, Mary said to her-
self, If I ad plenty of pearls, I could sell them, and get
plenty of money; and then I could relieve the poor who
come to our door so often, and who are so in need of help."
Then she thought, What did the old woman mean by
saying that kind words are often better than pearls ?
Mary thought on this a good deal; and at last she made
up her mind that what the old woman meant was, that, if
we could not give money to those in want, we could at
least let them see that we would give it if we could, and so
cheer them by our love and sympathy.
SThen there are many simple ways in which we can let
others see that we love them and think of them," said
Mary. t Did not grandmother, the other day, call me a
little fairy just because I presented her with a bunch of
violets ? Yes, I begin to see what the old woman meant."
violets ? Pes, T begin to seo wha~t tile old woman meant."


__ W
-- --


The next day Mary said to herself, "How can I show
myself a fairy to some one to-day who needs help?"
Then she remembered that her cousin, poor Walter Young,
had long been confined to his room by sickness.
"I will take my Christmas-book of stories to Walter, and
read to him," thought Mary. So, after asking her mother's
permission, she ran off to her aunt's, and there sat a whole
forenoon, reading to Walter, and entertaining him.
When the hand of the clock pointed to five minutes be-
fore one, she rose, and said, "It is time for me to go home."
"I wouldn't have believed it," said Walter. "Why,
what a fairy you must be to make time pass away so I
haven't had such a happy forenoon these six months."
Mary bade him good-by; and, as she walked home, she
thought of all that the old woman had told her, and made
up her mind never to seek for fairies again, except in her
own heart.


N the neighbor's little yard see the children at
play! What a beautiful place for play! See
the old boards, the sticks, and the loose stones,
the dog's house, and the hole in the wall!
Truly what better place in all the wide world
could be found for a game of hide-and-seek! Little Ruth
is hiding behind the pales of an old broken-down fence.
Tiger, the dog, knows where she is; and Sister Susan
knows where she is; and the sparrow that sits on the roof
of the dog's house, he, too, knows where she is: but the
rest of the party will have to hunt before they can find
I hope none of those children will get a fall. I hope
they will not push those stones down on anybody's head.
See that little sparrow on the rim of the basin behind Su-
san! It is quite plain that he means to keep out of harm's
What a good neighbor it must be to let all those children
come into the yard and play! One little girl has crept into
a hole under the house by the side of the grape-vine. The
little boys on the wall mean to climb down and see if
they can find Cousin Ruth. I think it will not be hard to
find her. One little boy has already almost caught sight
of her.
Play on, children The neighbor's little yard is now to
you a very heaven of wonder and delight. By and by,
when you grow up, and go out into the big world, and see
fine cities, and stately parks, and squares, and public gar-
dens, you must not forget the little yard, with its rubbish,
its planks, and its stones, where you used to play hide-and-
seek when you were young and happy. uNCLE CHALES.



LITTLE Oleander-slip,
Cut from mother-tree,
Was about as disagreeable
As a little slip could be.
Didn't like her pot of earth;
Said she wouldn't grow :
This was very naughty,
And foolish too, you know.

Little Oleander-slip
A drink of water had:
Didn't do her any good;
Continued to be bad.
Sulky Oleander
Hung her little head,
And, drooping over sideways,
Pretended she was dead.

But it wasn't any good
Playing such a trick:
Tied up Oleander
To a little stick;
Shut her in a closet,
Very dark, you know,
Till she made her mind up
To be good, and grow.

Darkness had a good effect
On Oleander's head:
" What's the use of acting so ?"
To herself she said.
Straightened up'her wilting stalk;
Really tried to smile :
Guess we'll have to let her out
In a little while.

Morning bright and sunny,
Air so fresh and pure;
Oleander's had enough
Of closet, I am sure.
"Be good, Oleander ? "
"Yes," I heard her say;
And she's kept her promise
From that very day.

Other little flowers
Sometimes act just so,
And in darkened closets
Often have to go.
There, in calm reflection,
It will not be strange
If a short confinement
Works a wondrous change.
A. G. M.


TWICE one are two,
Violets white and blue;
Twice two are four,
Sunflowers at the door;
Twice three are six,
Rhodoras on their sticks;
Twice four are eight,
Coxcombs at the gate;
Twice five are ten,
Catkins of the aspen ;
Twice six are twelve,
Poppies for those who delve *

Twice seven are fourteen,
Flowers of the scarlet bean;
Twice eight are sixteen,
Blossoms of the lupine;
Twice nine are eighteen,
Purple thistles to be seen;
Twice ten are twenty,
Hollyhocks in plenty;
Twice eleven are twenty-two,
Daisies fringed with morning dew;
Twice twelve are twenty-four,
Roses who could ask for more ?


RACHEL was a good little girl, but apt to be heedless. Her
father had been lost at sea when a great steamship, filled
with passengers, was struck by a sailing-ship, and went
down. But Rachel had a darling mother and a sister
Rachel had been told that she must never go with wet
feet. She forgot this, like other good rules; and one day
she was so ill that her mother was obliged to send for the
The doctor came, and took the little girl's hands in his,


felt of her pulse, and asked what she had been doing. She
said she had been out in the wet snow without her over-
"That was a great mistake, my dear," said the doctor.
"There is no more certain way of taking a cold than to go
with wet feet. Will you remember this ?"

Rachel promised that she would remember. But good
resolutions will not cure a cold. The little girl was soon
confined to her bed by a fever; and for several days she was
in great danger.
At last she was well enough to play with her doll, and
to read her favorite story-book. By and by, on sunny days,
she could take a little walk on the piazza; and soon she could
take a ride.
One bright spring day Rachel was quite well,-well


enough to come down stairs and sit at the dinner-table.
Her mother and sister Susan were very glad indeed to see
her. Rachel climbed into her mother's lap, kissed her, and
said she would never walk with damp, wet shoes again, if
she could help it.
That's right, my dear, and never sit on the damp
ground, even in summer," said mamma: "I have known
many little girls to take bad colds in this way."
"I will try and think," said Rachel.
"That is what is wanted, thought," said mamma.
"We must learn to think if we would do right."

-.-.. ---- ^ ^ --

1 .. .i,

Two little birds, one autumn day,
Sat on a tree together:
They fluttered about from bough to bough,
And talked about the weather.

"The wind is blowing so cold," said they,
"It chills us as we sing :"
Then away they flew to the sunny South,
And there they staid till spring.


WHAT could six-year-old Benny be doing ? For half an
hour he had been sitting quietly on an ottoman, busy with
pencil and paper, only looking up now and then to ask his
mamma how to spell a long word.
After a while he came to his mamma for an envelope, and
asked her to direct it for him. So mamma wrote on it, at
Then Benny sealed his letter, and took it to the post-office.
Two or three days after Benny had posted his letter, his
papa came into the parlor, looking very much amused. A
mail-agent on the postal-car had found among the letters
one directed to Santa Claus, which he had opened. See-
ing the signature, and happening to know Benny's papa,
the mail-agent had sent the letter to him. Papa had the
open letter in his hand. We will read it: -
WINDSOR, Nov. 2.
DEAR SANTA CLAUS, Next Christmas please bring me a drum, and a
pair of rubber-boots, and some oranges, and a peisil that marks red and
blue, and one that marks black, and some almonds, and a writing-desk,
and a rubber-ball, and some candy, and a pistol that shoots paper caps,
and a safe with a frog to swallow the pennies like the one Robbie Kendall
has got, and some figs and grapes, and a new sled with Gen. Grant on
it; and please bring me some writing-paper and a candy-cane. I liked
very much what you brought me last year; but the horses are broken off
from the wagon, and the key is lost that winds it up ; and Dickie broke
the smoke-stack off from my little steamboat.
Only one word spelled wrong, and all the words printed
quite evenly on the lines.
Benny asked his mamma, the other day, if she supposed
Santa Claus had got the letter yet.
Of course he had. Mamma sent it to him by a special
messenger. H.


FRANK is a little blue-eyed, round-faced boy, not yet
four years old, who lives next door to a little girl named
Grace. She is five years old; and she, too, has a chubby
round face, and clear blue eyes. They often play together.
Many a time, in the bright winter mornings, Grace says
to her mother, Mamma, I think it will do me good to take
the fresh air. May I go and slide with Frank ? Mamma
says, Yes;" for she likes to have her little girl take plenty
of fresh air.
So, after she has read and spelled her lesson, Grace puts
on her little blue "riding-hood," and well wrapped in coat,
leggins, and mittens, runs out for a play in the bright sun-
shine on the clean snow and ice. Frank is already waiting
for her with his sled; and they push and pull very hard for
a very little ride.


One day Frank's father came out and said, "Get on,
chicks, and I will give you a ride." So they both fixed
themselves on the sled,-Frank in front, and Grace holding
on behind. Oh! then how rosy their faces were as they
glided over the ice and snow, shouting to their mammas to
But, alas! by some sudden jerk poor Frank was thrown
off; and, as he jumped up, a little red stream was running
from his little pug nose. He cried lustily; and, with papa's
handkerchief held to his face, he was taken into the house
by mamma, who saw the accident from the window, and
rushed to the rescue.
Two or three days after this, Frank was on a visit to his
cousins; when one of them, a girl twelve years old, said.to
him, Come, Frank, I will give you a nice ride on the
sled." -" No," said Frank, "I will not ride." --" Why
not?" Etta said. "Oh, do!"-"No," answered Frank:
"if my father would tip me off, so would you." And,
though he runs and walks on the ice, he cannot be induced
to sit on a sled again. GRACE'S MAMMA.


FIDO is a little black-and-tan dog owned by a friend of
mine in Worcester. He is not usually fond of people out
of his owner's family; but he has taken a great liking to a
gentleman who lives near, and often goes to see him.
When this gentleman wants to send a message to any
one at my friend's house, he writes a note, ties it around
Fido's neck, and tells him to go home.
Home trots Fido, never stopping to play, and finds one of
the family. When the note is taken, he seems to think he
has done his duty, and barks and jumps as if very happy.
M. 0. JoHNsoN.


OUR little Lucy was three years old last August. She
is very fond of sewing, and is learning to sew quite a
straight seam.
She thought it would be very pleasant to make some-
thing for her father for Christmas: so I gave her a piece
of silvered perforated-board, and a worsted-needle with a
long, blue worsted thread tied in it, and a big knot in the
end of the thread.
Then I showed her how to take the right stitches for a
border all around the edge of the card-board, so as to make
a pretty book-mark to put in the Bible. She kept saying,
while she made it, "Mother, I am making this all myself:
please show me where to put the next stitch."
Before she finished it, she lost the worsted-needle, and


came to ask me for another. "Mother," she said, "have
you a worsted-needle ?"-"No, Lucy, I have no more."-
"Well, have you any 'fives to tens?'"
Then I got my needle-book, .and showed Lucy that the
"fives to tens" have such little eyes, that the coarse
worsted will not go through them.
Lucy is learning her letters out of the newspapers and
the Bible. She finds the large letters at the beginnings of
the different chapters in the Bible. She knows I and 0 and
L and W. Do you know as many?
The other day I was rocking her little baby-brother, and
singing "By-o-by." Lucy said, "What shall I buy?"
Was not that a funny little joke of hers ? Lucy's MOTHER.

OF course, most children have been told about saga-
cious dogs and horses; but have they ever heard of a
sagacious calf? Uncle Horace, who lives on a farm, has
one, the only one I ever saw. Her name is Bessie, and
she is not quite a year old yet.
In the lot where Bessie is kept, there is a trough which
is usually filled with water, so that the calves can come and
drink when they are thirsty. The other day the trough
happened to be empty when Bessie came to drink; and
what do you think she did ?
Why, she put up her fore-feet into the trough, and, reach-
ing her head over the fence, took hold of the pump-handle
with her mouth, and worked it up and down just as she
had seen the folks do when they were pumping water.
Aunt Nancy thinks that when Bessie grows up, she will
know so much that there will be no living with her."
L. P. A.


JOSIE is a little boy three years old, who lives in Boston.
He has seen the hand-organ men go round the streets, and
stop at the doors to play.
He thinks he will be a hand-organ man. He puts on his
hat, and takes a little wooden cricket under his arm, and
marches down stairs.
Papa is in the sitting-room: so are grandpa and Aunt
Helen. Josie walks in, and begins to sing; at the same
time he strikes with his hand on the top of the stool.
He sings very loud, -

"Do you know the muffin-man,
The muffin-man, the muffin-man?
Do you know the muffin-man,
Who lives in Drury Lane ? "


He keeps on singing, -

"Yes, I know the muffin-man,
The muffin-man, the muffin-man:
Yes, I know the muffin-man,
Who lives in Drury Lane."

When he is done, he takes off his hat, and passes it
round. First he goes to papa, who puts in a cent; then
to grandpa; then to Aunt Helen.
When he has been to every one, he makes a bow, puts
his hat on over his pretty curls, and goes out.
Soon he comes back. His papa says, "Why, there's
that hand-organ man again! He is going to give us more
Josie's mamma has come in, and she smiles; and he
begins another little song, -

Over the brook to grandmama's, -
Over the brook, little boy:
The flowers are sweet beneath our feet;
We sing as we go for joy."

At this all the folks in the room clap their hands, and
laugh; and Josie, who does not laugh at all, takes off his hat
again, and passes it round for more money. Papa puts in a
bunch of keys; and mamma, a spool of thread.
.Grandpa catches up the little man and his hand-organ,
sets him on his shoulder, and marches out with him into
the hall; while Josie still sings, so you can hear him all
through the house, -

"Do you know the muffin-man,
The muffin-man, the muffin-man ?"


FOUR little birds came out to greet
The first pond-lily, so fair and sweet,
The first that opened its petals white '
To the wooing breeze and the golden light.
They flew around, then sat on the tree,
And sang, "You are sweet as sweet can be :
O dear Pond-lily! we do not jest:
Now, which of us all do you love best ?"
Pond-lily spoke not, but, instead,
Dipped in the water her beautiful head,
As much as to say, I'm well content
In this my own pure element."
The birds they sang in their very best style,
But got no answer, not even a smile; -
For Pond-lily knew it was safest and best
To' keep where she was, on the wave's cool breast,
And never to listen to flattering words
From idle suitors and wandering birds.


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