The Nursery, April 1878, Vol. XXIII. No. 4 / A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers
Date: 2009-02-20T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Children's literature; American -- Periodicals

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Nursery, April 1878, Vol. XXIII. No. 4

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Title: The Nursery, April 1878, Vol. XXIII. No. 4

Author: Various

Release date: February 20, 2009 [eBook #28143]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. Music
by Linda Cantoni.

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, APRIL 1878, VOL. XXIII. NO. 4 ***

THE

NURSERY

A Monthly Magazine

For Youngest Readers.

VOLUME XXIII.—No. 4.

IN PROSE.

| PAGE
Tired Out | 98
Emma and the Book | 101
The Bear and Her Cubs | 103
How Two Boys Were Made Happy | 107
The Summer Shower | 109
A Monkey Story | 110
Drawing Lesson | 113
What Bravo Told Rory | 116
Playing the Chinaman | 119
Pansy's Secret | 120
Sagacity of the Deer | 125

IN VERSE.

| PAGE
The Herons | 100
Billy Brown Sold | 105
Time to Go to Bed | 114
A Trotting Song | 123
Grandma Asleep | 127
The Lay of the Grasshopper (with music) | 128

TIRED OUT.

TIRED OUT.

NE day Miss Lily Macnish heard the door-bell ring. She put down her spelling-book, and asked, "Who can that be, mamma?" Before mamma could give an answer, Jane the housemaid entered, and handed her a note.

"Why, this is not for me: it is for you, my dear," said Mrs. Macnish, giving the note to Lily.

"For me!" said Lily, while her cheeks flushed; for it was the first note she had ever received.

"Please read it for me, mamma," she said; for Lily could not read handwriting quite as well as some little girls of her age that I could tell of.

"It is an invitation to a children's party at Mrs. Vane's," said mamma. "Miss Lucy Vane asks the pleasure of Miss Lily's company on Thursday evening, at seven o'clock."

"Oh, can I go? Can I go?" cried Lily, jumping up, and clapping her hands.

"I do not quite approve of children's parties, especially when they take place in the evening," said mamma. "But I know who will say 'Yes,' and I suppose I shall have to do as he says."

She was thinking of Lily's papa, who loved the little girl so much, that he could not bear to say "No" to any request she might make.

Well, mamma was right. Papa saw that his little girl was bent on going to the party, and so he teased his wife into yielding her consent.

So, when Thursday came, Lily was dressed up in her little white robe, with straw-colored ribbons, and her pretty slippers, and sent in a carriage, with Jane the housemaid, to the party.

It was not quite such a party as I approve of. I do not like to see little girls and boys trying to act like grown-up people. I like to see them act like children.

Lily had the good taste to get tired of it all very soon. Little girls would come along and stare at her slippers; but she did not feel much pride in them. Little boys would come and bow, and ask her to dance; but she had had enough. There was music and singing, and then ice-cream and cake were handed round; but Lily had promised to eat nothing, and she kept her promise.

At half-past eight o'clock she saw Jane beckoning to her at the door; and very glad she was at the sight. Bidding Miss Vane "good-night," she let Jane put on her shawl, and lead her to the carriage. "Oh, I am so tired, so tired!" said poor Lily.

Mamma received her at the door of her own house, and, taking her in her arms, bore her up stairs to the little girl's papa. "What! has she come back so soon?" said he, throwing down his newspaper, and taking her on his knee.

"Oh, you dear papa, I am so tired, so tired!" murmured Lily. "Oh, do sing me 'Flow gently, sweet Afton,' and let me go to sleep on your lap."

But mamma said, "No, Lily. You must go to bed while you can keep your eyes open."

And so Lily kissed papa, and was borne off to bed. I think she will wait till she is older, before she will care much to go to another "children's party."

Dora Burnside.

THE HERONS.

A very shy bird
Is the heron, my dear;
It will run fast away,
If you come very near:
It has a sharp bill,
A neck slender and long;
It is fond of small fish,
And goes where they throng.
It builds a snug nest
On some very high tree,
And there lays its eggs,
Where the boys cannot see.
Woods marshy and wet,
It likes to frequent;
For there it finds food,
And there lives content.
No sportsmen with guns
Come often to kill:
And when they appear
The heron keeps still;
It keeps still and hides
On a lofty bough near,
Till the fowler says, "Well,
I can find no birds here."
Then he and his dogs
Go off in the dumps,
And the heron flies down
To the bushes and stumps;
There flaps its big wings,
Right glad to have cheated
The life-seeking foes,
Who now have retreated.

Ida Fay.

EMMA AND THE BOOK.

One day little Emma said to herself, "It is about time that I knew how to read. I wonder if I could read that big book on the table." So she went to the table, and tried to reach the book; but it was too high up.

Now, Emma had a brother Fred, who was older than she was. Fred was always very kind to Emma, and now he said, "That is not such a book as you would like, but if you will be quiet, I will read you a story out of my own book."

It was a pretty little story that he read; and Emma stood very still, and listened to every word. "Now," said she, "will you please let me have the book, Fred; for my dolly likes stories too, and I want to read to her." So Fred gave her the book, and she sat down and read to her doll.

Wilhelmina Grant.

THE BEAR AND HER CUBS.

"Are there any people besides Esquimaux in the snow-country?" asked Harry, one day.

"Not many," said I. "There is a small Danish settlement in Greenland; but, with that exception, the Esquimaux and the bears have the country pretty much to themselves."

"Tell me about the bears," said Harry. "I saw a bear last summer at the White mountains. He was chained to a tree."

"But the bear that roams about over the snow and ice of the Arctic regions, is much larger and more savage than the common black bear that you saw. It is of a dingy white color. When full grown, it sometimes measures nine feet in length."

"Didn't I see one in Barnum's menagerie?"

"I think not, Harry; for the polar bear suffers so much from heat, even in our coldest winters, that it will not live long in this climate.

"There is one thing very interesting in the bear nature, and that is the affection of the female for its young. This has often been noticed. Here is a picture showing an instance of it.

"A Greenland bear with two cubs, was pursued across a field of ice by a party of armed sailors. At first she tried to urge the young ones along by running before them, turning around and calling them to her; but finding that the pursuers were gaining upon them, she pushed and threw the cubs before her, one after the other, until she effected their escape.

"Each cub would place itself across her path to receive the impulse, and when thrown forward, would run onward until overtaken by the mother, when it would adjust itself for another throw."

"Well, that shows that even a bear has some good feeling," said Harry, "and some common sense too. I'm glad that the sailors did not catch them. What would those cubs have done without their mother?"

Uncle Charles.

BROWN BILLY SOLD.

Edith, with cheek against the window,
Is sobbing out her grief;
Gold-Locks is in a sad condition
Of pocket-handkerchief.

And Teddy at his play is sniffing,
His little nose all red!
Is Tony sick? Is pussy stolen?
Is the canary dead?

Else why this universal crying?—
Weepingly I am told,
With many a look of indignation,
"Brown Billy has been sold!"

And why? No one can tell the reason;
And yet I chance to know,
It was—ah, wicked little pony!—
Because he acted so.

Sometimes the phaeton all too heavy
Would grow for him to draw;
You'd think his feeble strength must perish
Under another straw.

Sometimes as light as any feather
He rolled its dainty wheels,
Humming and whirring like a spindle
After his flying heels.

And, worse than that, he had a fashion
Of rearing in the air;
And what became of load or driver
He did not know nor care.

Yet, without least alarm, the children
Would laugh at him, and say,
"Do see dear, cunning, old Brown Billy:
How well he likes to play!"

And bits of apple, lumps of sugar,
From little hands were given,
With fond pet names, and soft caresses,
And sometimes kisses even.

Brown Billy, but for your wild frolics
We might have had you yet;
And then these three sweet doleful faces
With tears would not be wet.

Mrs. Clara Doty Bates.

HOW TWO BOYS WERE MADE HAPPY.

May I tell the readers of "The Nursery" how happy two little boys were made this evening by the arrival of a present from a kind friend? And what do you think it was? A magazine with a green cover, on which Guy, one of the boys, pointed out these letters, "N-U-R-S-E-R-Y."

Max, with his chubby hand, turned to the first page, and found the Christmas-tree, with the baby and flag at the top. Then mamma had to read the story, and, after it was finished, the same little hand turned the leaf back; for the blue eyes wanted to see baby Arthur again.

Then how both pairs of eyes looked at Teddy with his new sled! and, while mamma read to them the pretty verses of Teddy's mamma, they were still as mice.

And how their eyes sparkled when they saw the picture of the wheelbarrows and cart loaded with earth! for this was just the way they used to play in the warm pleasant weather. They thought the three little boys must have had lots of fun.

Then they wanted to hear about "Georgie's Pet Mouse," and "Bess and the Kitten." They did not wonder that "Baby" felt cross at having his picture taken; for Max had to sit still so long, and so many times for his, that he knew how to pity the poor baby.

The "Rooster" pleased them very much; and mamma promised to take "The Nursery" to the Kindergarten, and draw the rooster on the board for the little children there.

When we came to "Bed-time," mamma thought it would be just the thing to read last, before putting her little boys to bed. But they begged for one more story, and just one more, till we came to "By-lo-land," and after hearing that read, they wanted me to sing it to them.

Then the night-dresses were brought, and snugly in their little bed the brown eyes and blue eyes were closed, and my happy little boys went "over the hills to By-lo-land."

Mrs. F. A. B. D.

THE SUMMER SHOWER.

Well do I remember dear old aunt Rachel, as we called her, my first schoolmistress. She wore spectacles, and I have heard it said that she sometimes took snuff; but, if she did, she was careful not to do it in the presence of her pupils.

She was the aunt of nobody in particular; but, had she been aunt to all of us, she could not have taken more pains to keep us from harm, and to lead us in the way of right.

One day, just as school was dismissed in the afternoon, a severe rain-storm began. "Oh! how shall I get you all home," said the dear old lady, opening the door, and looking up at the clouds.

First she fitted me and my little sister Eva out with her best umbrella, and told us to make the best speed we could, and send the umbrella back.

As for the boys, they ran out, rejoicing in the rain, and well pleased at the prospect of getting wet through. The other little girls were kept waiting till the sky should clear, or some one should come for them.

My sister and I started off, side by side, under our umbrella. It was a large cotton one, with a long, heavy handle,—just about suited to the capacity of a giant. But, by taking hold very high up, I managed to carry it without any trouble, and it kept us both dry. We really enjoyed our walk; and, the harder the rain came down, the better we liked it.

No sooner had we got home than the clouds broke, and patches of blue sky began to appear. Then Eva spied a rainbow. So mother told us to put on dry shoes and stockings, and take back the umbrella.

How glad Aunt Rachel was to see and welcome us! "I am so glad you did not get wet," said she; "but, as for those wild boys, they would rush out into the rain, and I could not keep them from it."

Ida Fay.

A MONKEY STORY.

This is one of the true stories that I tell my little boys over and over again, as we sit before the fire, and make ready for their journey to "Sleepy-Land."

"When your grandfather was a lad about twelve years old, an uncle of his made a voyage to South America, and brought home as a present to his nephew a fine large monkey. Of course Master Richard was very much pleased; and the frolicsome pet would have had a warm welcome from the whole household, had not the uncle seen fit to report some of Jocko's pranks on shipboard.

"This put the young ladies upon their guard. But old Bella, the cook, never seemed prepared for his capers; and the fuss she made over them pleased Jocko so much, that she became the object of his attacks.

"One day Bella went to the city, and brought home a fine new bonnet in a large bandbox. During the evening she showed it with great pride to the young ladies; and, unknown to her, Jocko enjoyed the sight of the ribbons and laces and flowers from behind the parlor sofa.

"Like Bella herself, he was fond of finery; and the bonnet seemed to him a very fit garment for a monkey to wear. So the next morning, while Bella was busy in the kitchen, Jocko went to her closet, took out her bandbox, dressed himself in the bonnet, and stole down the back-stairs.

"Bella, hearing a noise, looked around, and there he was, his head literally lost in a sea of red and yellow ribbons. With a shout of rage, she seized the broomstick, and hurried after the thief. But before she could reach him, Jocko had mounted two flights of stairs, leaped out on the porch, and climbed up to the roof of the house.

"There he rested; and there he was when the whole household, frightened by Bella's shrieks, came running up to see what was the matter. In vain Bella scolded. In vain Richard coaxed and threatened. Jocko would not come down until he had finished his work; for he was busily engaged in tearing poor Bella's bonnet into fragments.

"As ribbon after ribbon was destroyed, her screams grew louder and louder; and nothing could move her from her determination to kill the monkey, except the promise of a gayer bonnet than the one that Jocko had stolen.

"But Jocko never was forgiven; and the poor fellow would have gone supperless a great many times, had it not been for his devoted young master."

Mrs. G.

DRAWING-LESSON.

TIME TO GO TO BED.

DAUGHTER.

"Why must I go to sleepy-land, sleepy-land, sleepy-land?
Why must I go to sleepy-land
So early in the evening?
I'd like to stay up longer, pa, longer, pa, longer, pa;
I'd like to stay up longer, pa:
To sleepy-land it is too far,
So early in the evening."

FATHER.

"'Tis time to go to bed, my dear, bed, my dear, bed, my dear;
'Tis time to go to bed, my dear,
Though early in the evening.
For such a little girl as you, girl as you, girl as you,
For such a little girl as you
Should be abed, and sleeping too,
Thus early in the evening."

DAUGHTER.

"Oh! then I'll sing another song, another song, another song;
Oh! then I'll sing another song,
So early in the evening!
For you must take me pick-a-pack, pick-a-pack, pick-a-pack,
For you must take me pick-a-pack,
My good papa, upon your back,
So early in the evening."

FATHER.

"Then jump, and we'll go up the stairs, up the stairs, up the stairs;
Then jump, and we'll go up the stairs
So early in the evening.
Now here she is! My pig is safe, pig is safe, pig is safe,
Now here she is! My pig is safe:
It must not squeal, or kick, or chafe
So early in the evening."

DAUGHTER.

"So up we go! Good-by, mamma, by, mamma, by, mamma;
So up we go! Good-by, mamma,
So early in the evening!
I'm going off to sleepy-land, sleepy-land, sleepy-land,
I'm going off to sleepy-land:
To all good folks I kiss my hand,
So early in the evening!"

Emily Carter.

WHAT BRAVO TOLD RORY.

"Tell us a story, Kate," said Emma.

"Yes, do," chimed in Bertha.

"Will you tell us a story?" said Herbert.

Thus entreated by these dear, good children, I could not refuse. So while their three heads, close together, with their bright faces beaming upon me and upon each other, formed a pretty picture, I told them this story about two shepherd-dogs, Bravo and Rory:—

"When farmer John and his bride moved into their little white house, a mile from the old homestead, they took with them the young dog, Bravo, and left Rory to guard the old house. Bravo was large and wide awake, but only five months old. He seemed very happy in his new home. His master taught him many curious things; and for a week or more he showed no signs of home-sickness.

"But when old Toss, from the tannery near by, made an attack upon him, although Bravo's fleetness saved him from harm, he began to wish he had never left his puppy-hood's home to live with farmer John. Down he sat at the door of his kennel, with a lonely and forsaken look, trying to smooth down the hair of his sleek coat that old Toss had ruffled.

"The tanner's dog repeated his attack for two or three days, and, more than that, drove poor Bravo from his nice warm quarters at night, compelling him to lie out in the cold. Then Bravo said to himself, 'Something must be done. I dare not fight Toss; for he has long teeth, and is a savage dog,—more than a match for me. I think my best plan is to go and tell Rory.' And away he sped, just at sunrise, and came back in time for breakfast, with a cheerful look in his face.

"Now, Rory was steady and brave and wise. He had no love for running round nights: so it surprised his master, when, just as the sun went down that day, Rory started down the road, and up the lane to farmer John's. On he went, with a grave look, without stopping to greet any old friend, even by a wag of his tail. Bravo met him, and whisked around him; and, after a short consultation, the two dogs crawled into the kennel, Rory staying nearest to the door.

"The moon shone clear and bright, and all was still until about midnight, when farmer John's wife was suddenly awakened by a sound of growling, snarling, and yelping. 'Wake up, John, quick, quick! Get up!' she shouted. The farmer leaped from his bed, and, half-dressed, ran to the door, thinking that the dogs were killing sheep; but instead of sheep, Rory and Bravo had Toss at their mercy, and were giving him a fearful punishment."

"Good, good!" shouted Herbert. "That served him just right."

But little Bertha turned a wondering look upon Herbert; she could not help feeling pity even for Toss.

"Let us hear the rest of the story," said Emma.

So I went on,—

"The sharp voice of the farmer made Rory and Bravo release their victim; and Toss, in a crestfallen way, started for his home; but, before he could get over the fence, Rory gave him a final clutch that sent him off yelping. He never came back; and when he met Bravo afterwards, he was careful not to trouble him.

"In a short time Bravo grew to be so strong and brave, that he could fight his own battles without the aid of his friend Rory."

The three children, who had listened very attentively to the story, now talked it over; and they came to the conclusion that Toss received a good lesson, and was probably a better dog after it. "For," said Herbert, "a dog who abuses a smaller dog is almost as mean as a big boy who tyrannizes over a little boy."

M. Kate Brawley.

PLAYING THE CHINAMAN.

Franz is a little boy about four years old, who lives in Brooklyn, California. His favorite play is to take some pieces of cloth, fill his mouth with water, turn his head from side to side, letting the water squirt from the corners of his mouth upon them (as he has seen the Chinamen do at the laundry), fold them, turn the iron-stand on its back, and carefully smooth them. This is Foo Lee, washing and ironing.

Sometimes the clothes are not wet enough, and the sprinkling goes on with the ironing.

"Your clothes will smell of tobacco and opium, if you sprinkle them so much," says Franz's elder brother.

"No, they won't," says the little wash-man. "Me do them good; me do them cheap."

When he gets tired of this, he puts his wash into a piece of paper, and takes the bundle to mamma. "I hope the clothes are not too blue, John," says mamma.

"No," answers Foo Lee. "They done good this time."

"And did you find my stockings, which were missing from last week's wash?"

"Yes, they all here. I found them: they all right this time,—fifty dozen."

"How much shall I pay you?"

"Six bits." (Seventy-five cents.) "I do them velly cheap."

Mamma gives him two buttons,—one large one for the four-bit piece, (fifty cents), and a smaller one for the two bits (twenty-five cents).

"Thankee. Good-baah!" says Foo Lee. "Good-by," returns mamma.

L. M.

PANSY'S SECRET.

Pansy had a secret, and nobody could find it out. She would come down stairs in the morning, and seat herself at the breakfast-table, and then papa would say, "Well, Pansy, are you going to tell us your secret to-day?"

Pansy would shake her head, and reply, "You must guess it, papa! Can you not guess it?"

"Well, I guess you have a new tooth coming."

"Oh, no, that is not it. Mother can guess better than that, I think. It concerns you, mother."

"Well, I guess," said mother, "that you are to have the present of a kitten from aunt Julia."

"And I guess," said brother John, who was five years older than Pansy, "I guess you are knitting a pair of woollen cuffs for papa."

"You are all wrong," cried Pansy, "and I shall not tell you my secret to-day."

The next morning, as she was coming down stairs, she paused, and said to herself, "Shall I tell them my secret now? No, Pansy, let them see that you can keep a secret."

No sooner was she seated at the table in her high-chair, than papa said, "Well, Pansy, how much longer are you going to keep us in the dark? Are you going to tell us your secret?"

"Not yet, papa," said Pansy, looking up with a roguish smile.

"What can it be?" said mother, laying down her knife and fork, and putting her hand to her head.

"I don't believe it is any thing of any account," cried brother John. "She wants to keep us curious."

"Well, I think Pansy must be learning a new piece to recite," said her mother.

"That's not it," said Pansy. "It's a 'portant secret: one that my mother will like to hear."

"Oh, it's important, is it?" said papa. "I do wonder what it can be."

"Mother, what day was it that you lost your wedding-ring?" said John.

"Don't speak of it, John. It was more than a month ago. I have hunted high and low, and cannot find it. I would have given all my other jewelry rather than have lost it."

Here Pansy turned red in the face, got down from her high-chair, and ran out of the room.

"Did you see that?" said papa. "The little rogue has found the ring, and that's her 'portant secret."

In a minute Pansy came back, holding up the ring, and her face radiant with delight. "I found it, mother, among my doll's things. You must have dropped it there when you were fixing them."

And so little Pansy's secret was out at last!

Dora Burnside.

A TROTTING SONG.

Up and away! now up and away!
We've a good long journey before us to-day.
The road is smooth, and the sky is bright:
Whoa, now! My darling, hold on tight!
There's joy in the saddle. We'll scour the plain
With a gentle trot and an easy rein;
And, as we journey the way along,
I'll sing my darling a trotting song.

Up and down!
Up and down!
And over the hills to Sleepy Town!
Fast or slow,
Soon, we know,
Into the land of nod we'll go.
Oh, dear me!
Right off my knee,
Into a hollow I didn't see;
And baby small,
On steed so tall,
Came near getting a horrid fall.
She's not afraid,
My little maid,
Too oft on her that trick is played;
And good is she
As good can be,
If I'll only trot her upon my knee.
Over she goes!
But don't suppose
I'll let her tumble upon her nose,
Or give a fright
To my darling bright,
Who laughs and frolics with such delight.
Whoa! now, whoa!
We must not go
So fast, my darling; for don't you know,
At such a pace,
So like a race,
We never shall come to a sleepy-place?
Trot, trot away,
And tell me, pray,
How many miles we have gone to-day?
Up and down!
Up and down!
And over the hills to Sleepy Town!

Josephine Pollard.

SAGACITY OF THE DEER.

A friend of mine who has been in the habit of hunting deer in the Adirondack Mountains, is of opinion that the deer is often more than a match for the dog in sagacity. The deer seems to be well aware that the dog is guided by his faculty of scent in tracking him; and all the deer's efforts are directed to baffling and thwarting this keen and wonderful sense with which the dog is gifted.

With this purpose, the deer will often make enormous leaps, or run around in a circle so as to confuse and puzzle his pursuers. He will mount a stone wall, and run along it for some distance, well aware that the dog cannot scent him so well on the rock as on the grass. If he can find a pond or stream of water, the deer will plunge in and swim a long distance, so that the dogs may lose his trail.

It is a joyful sound to the poor hunted deer when the dogs send up that sad, dismal howl, which they give utterance to when they have lost all scent of the deer, and despair of finding it. He is then a happy deer. He hides quietly in some covert among the bushes, and he will take care to place himself where the wind will carry all odors of his body away from the direction where he supposes the dogs to be.

So you see the deer is by no means a stupid animal. He knows, better than many a little boy, how to take care of himself, and get out of the way of danger. And now can you tell me in what part of the State of New York are the Adirondack Mountains?

From a correspondent in Springfield, Mo., I have a letter, in which the writer says: "I suppose the Boston boys don't have deer for pets. I have a young one named Billy, and he eats corn out of my pocket. When I come home from school he always runs to meet me. Although he can jump over fences, he never tries to run away. He wears a collar with a bell on it: so we can hear him when he is down in the orchard eating apples, which he seems to be very fond of."

Uncle Charles.

GRANDMA ASLEEP.

Grandma dear has gone to sleep;
See how still the children keep!
Little Johnny leaves his toys,
And, without a bit of noise,
Rests his book on grandma's lap
While she takes her peaceful nap;
Darling Mabel on the floor
Sits all quiet and demure;
And old pussy tries to be
Just the stillest of the three.

Jane Oliver.

THE LAY OF THE GRASSHOPPER.

[Transcriber's Note: You can play this music (MIDI file) by clicking here.]

1. There was a grasshopper lived in a palm-tree,
Silver-voiced as a frog in June;
Was not pleas'd with his situation,
Thought he'd like to go to the moon.
Oh! Heigh-ho! . . . How shall I get there? oh! . . .
A hop and a skip and a flop and a flip, and over the clouds I'll go.

2. Up he went like a streak of lightning,
Lit on the moon like a thunderbolt.
Nought could he find but a man with a lantern,
Riding about on a pea-green colt.
Oh! Heigh-ho! . . . Why did I come here? oh! . . .
A fling and a swing and a flap of my wing,
And back to the earth I'll go.

3. Off he shot like a blazing rocket;
Down he came like a falling star.
What should he meet but a gay little goshawk,
Flying up from the earth so far.
Oh! Heigh-ho! . . . Poor little grasshopper, oh! . . .
A snap and a squeak in the bonny bird's beak,
And there was an end of him, oh!

Transcriber's Notes:

The title page and table of contents were created for this issue following the pattern from the 1877 issues.

Page 104, opening quote added ("Each cub would)

Page 128, "silver-voiced" was capitalized.

Page 128, closing quotation mark removed. Original read (earth I'll go.")

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Table of Contents

- THE

- NURSERY

- A Monthly Magazine For Youngest Readers.

- IN PROSE.

- IN VERSE.

- TIRED OUT.

- THE HERONS.

- EMMA AND THE BOOK.

- THE BEAR AND HER CUBS.

- BROWN BILLY SOLD.

- HOW TWO BOYS WERE MADE HAPPY.

- THE SUMMER SHOWER.

- A MONKEY STORY.

- TIME TO GO TO BED.

- WHAT BRAVO TOLD RORY.

- PLAYING THE CHINAMAN.

- PANSY'S SECRET.

- A TROTTING SONG.

- SAGACITY OF THE DEER.

- GRANDMA ASLEEP.

- THE LAY OF THE GRASSHOPPER.

- Transcriber's Notes:

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE