[i]

THE

NURSERY

A Monthly Magazine

For Youngest Readers.

[ii]

[iii]

IN PROSE.

[193]

HIDE AND SEEK.
VOL. XXX.—NO. 1.

[194]

HIDE-AND-SEEK.

“No answer. Hark! I hear a noise
up in that tree. Can that be Charley?
Oh, no! It is a bird. ‘Little bird, have
you seen a small boy with curly hair?
Tell me where to look for him.’

“The bird will not tell me. I must
ask the squirrel. ‘Squirrel, have you seen a boy with rosy
cheeks?’ Away goes the squirrel into a hole without saying
a word.

“Ah! there goes a butterfly. I will ask him. ‘Butterfly,
have you seen a boy, with black eyes, rosy cheeks, and curly
hair?’ The butterfly lights on a bush. Now he flies again.
Now he is off without making any reply.

“Dear me! what shall I do? Is my little boy lost in the
woods? Must I go home without him? Oh, how can I
live without my boy!”

Out pops a laughing face from the bushes.

“Here I am, mamma!” says Charley. “Don’t cry.
Here I am close by you.”

“Why, so you are. Come out here, you little rogue, and
tell me where you have been all this time.”

“I have been right behind this tree, and I heard every
word you said,” says Charley.

“What a joke that was! Why, Charley, you must have
kept still for as much as three minutes. I never knew you
to do that before.”

[195]

FLOWERS FOR MAMMA.

[196]

HAMMOCK SONG.

[197]

OUTWITTED.

Suddenly, however, the rooster saw him
and flew, in a great fright,
to the top of the wall.

The fox could not get
him there, and he knew
it: so he came out from
his hiding-place, and addressed
the rooster thus:
“Dear me!” he cried,
“how handsomely you
are dressed! I came to
invite your magnificence
to a grand christening
feast. The duck and
the goose have promised
to come, and the turkey,
though slightly ill, will
try to come also.

“You see that only
those of rank are bidden
to this feast, and we beg you to adorn it with your splendid
talent for music. We are to have the most delicate little
cock-chafers served up on toast, a delicious salad of earthworms,[198]
in fact all manner of good things. Will you not
return then with me to my house?”

“Oh ho!” said the rooster, “how kind you are! What
fine stories you tell! Still I think it safest to decline your
kind invitation. I am sorry not to go to that splendid
feast; but I cannot leave my wife, for she is sitting on seven
new eggs. Good-by! I hope you will relish those earthworms.
Don’t come too near me, or I will crow for the
dogs. Good-by!”

ROSIE AND THE PIGS.

[199]

ZIP COON.

Zip had a long, low body, covered with stiff
yellowish hair. His nose was pointed, and his eyes were
bright as buttons. His paws were regular little hands, and
he used them just like hands.

He was very tame. He would climb up on Isabella’s
chair, and scramble to her shoulder. Then he would comb
her hair with his fingers, pick at her ear-rings, and feel of
her collar and pin and buttons.

Isabella’s mother was quite ill, but sometimes was able to
sit in her chair and eat her dinner from a tray on her lap.
She liked to have Zip in her room; but, if left alone with[200]
her, Zip would jump up in the chair behind her, and try to
crowd her off. He would reach around, too, under her arm,
and steal things from her tray.

Once the cook in the kitchen heard a brisk rattling of tin
pans in the pantry. She opened the door, and there, on a
shelf, was Zip. There were two pans standing side by side.
One had Indian-meal in it, and the other nice sweet milk.
In front of the pans stood Zippy.

He had scooped the meal from one pan into the milk in
the other pan, and was stirring up a pudding with all his
might. He looked over his shoulder when he heard the
cook coming up behind him, and worked away all the faster,
as if to get the pudding done before he was snatched up, and
put out of the pantry.

Zip was very neat and clean. He loved to have a bowl
of water and piece of soap set down for his own use. He
would take the soap in his hands, dip it into the water, and
rub it between his palms; then he would reach all around
his body, and wash himself. It was very funny to see him
reach way around, and wash his back.

One day, Isabella, not feeling well, was lying on her bed.
Zippy was playing around her in his usual way. Pretty
soon he ran under the bed, and was busy a long while
reaching up, and pulling and picking at the slats over his
head. By and by he crawled out; and what do you think
he had between his teeth? A pretty little red coral ear-ring
that Isabella had lost several weeks before. Zip’s bright
eyes had spied it as he was playing around under the bed.
So you see Zip Coon did some good that time.

When Zip grew older, he became so cross and snappish,
that he had to be chained up in the woodshed in front of
his little house. On the door of his house was printed in
red letters, “Zip Coon: he bites.”

[201]

THE FUSS IN THE POULTRY-YARD.

But if we could look round a corner, and take a view of[202]
the other side of the barnyard, we should see something
quite exciting.

The trouble was made by three hens of foreign breed.
They felt so proud because they had big tufts on their heads,
that they looked down on the native barn-yard fowls. One
old white hen they never cease to pick upon.

Now, the old white hen, although plain, was very smart.
If there was a good fat worm to be found anywhere, she
was sure to scratch it up. This was what caused the fuss.

Old Whitey scratched up a worm. Three tufted hens at
once tried to take it away from her. There was a chase all
around the barnyard. Old Whitey, with the worm in her
mouth, kept the lead.

Out she dashed through an opening in the fence. Down
she went, down the hill back of the barn. The three tufted
hens, like three highwaymen, were close upon her.

Well, what was the end of it? They didn’t get the worm;
I can tell you that. But there was a fight, and I can’t say
that poor Whitey got off without being badly pecked.

[203]

WHAT’S UP?

Why does Miss Prim; So stylish and slim, Hold up her head so high? What does she see? A bird in the tree? Or is it a star in the sky?
	And here is young Jane In bonnet so plain: And why is she looking up too? Do they seek at high noon For the man in the moon? Now, really, I wish that I knew? V. W.

[204]

[206]

OUR CHARLEY.

What I am going to tell happened one spring day. It was
warm and beautiful out, and the doors and windows of the
house were left open for the fresh air to circulate freely.
Charley was turned into the front-yard to nibble the green
grass for a while. It must have seemed good to him after
eating straw and hay all winter.

He ate and ate until he had eaten all he wanted, and
probably felt as boys and girls sometimes do when they have
room for nothing more, except pie, or pudding, or whatever
the dessert may be.

In the house dinner was over, and the table was waiting
for Katy to come from the kitchen to clear it off. The
family had gone into the sitting-room, and were busy talking
about a ramble in the woods for flowers, which had been
promised us children for that afternoon.

All at once we heard the tramp of heavy feet passing
through the hall into the dining-room. “Run, Willy,” said
mother, “and see what is making such a noise.”

Willy ran out, and came back laughing so he could hardly
speak. “It’s old Charley,” said he. “He’s in the dining-room.”
We all rushed to the door, and, sure enough, there
stood Charley by the table, eating what he could find on the
platters and children’s plates.

Oh, how we all laughed to see him standing there, as
sober as if it were his own stall and manger! We were[207]
willing that Charley should have what we had left; but it
seemed hardly right that a horse should be in the house;
besides, we feared that he might push the dishes off.

So Willy took him by the mane, and led him out of the
house. He went off chewing what he had in his mouth, and
nodding his head, as much as to say, “That pie-crust and
salt are pretty good. If you please, I’ll call again.”

PEET-WEET.[A]

[209]

DRAWING-LESSON.
VOL. XXX.—NO. 1.

[210]

MORE ABOUT “PARLEY-VOO.”

“Where’s Parley-voo?” asked aunt Tib one afternoon.
“I haven’t seen him for a long time.”

“Where can he be?” said mamma, looking concerned.

“Where can he be?” echoed the French nurse, throwing
down her sewing, and going in search of him. “Where
can he be? Le méchant!” (She meant “The naughty little
boy.”) Then she ran down the walk, calling out, “Parley-voo,
Parley-voo, Parley-voo!” But not a sound came back.

She went down the lane to the house of the tailoress,
where Parley-voo had sometimes been known to go. “Have
you seen our little boy to-day?” she asked anxiously of the
tailoress, who sat at the window, making a vest.

The tailoress looked up over her glasses, and laughed.
“Why, yes: he’s here,” said she; “and I don’t know what
his mother will say when she sees him.”

The nurse went up to the window, and looked in. There
sat Parley-voo on a little wooden cricket, and ever so much
of his bright, pretty hair—as much as he could get at—lay
on the floor beside him.

When Parley-voo saw the nurse, he ran into a corner, and
hid his face. The poor nurse was so amazed, that she could
hardly speak. How came the child in such a plight?

The tailoress told the story as follows. She had gone out
to pick some peas in the garden, leaving her husband, a
blind man, in the room with Parley-voo. He heard the little
boy about the room, and, fearing that he might be in some
mischief, told him that he “must not meddle.”

[211]

But pretty soon the blind man heard the sound of shears
going across the table. Parley-voo was certainly doing
something with the shears.

“Little boy, you must not meddle,” said the blind man
again. The noise stopped. “Ah! the boy does not dare
to disobey me,” thought the blind man.

All of a sudden the noise began again; but it was a very
different noise. It was not on the table. The shears went
together every little while with a sharp click.

The blind man felt very uneasy. “I do wish,” he thought,[212]
“my wife would come in and see what the little chap is
up to.”

To console himself, the blind man opened his snuff-box
and took a pinch of snuff. What do you think the little
chap did? He slyly put in his finger and thumb, and took
a pinch too. And then how he did sneeze!

The tailoress heard him sneeze, and came in. She saw at
once what had been going on. Parley-voo had been cutting
his hair.

“Oh, my!” exclaimed mamma, when the nurse brought
him home.

“Dear, dear!” cried aunt Tib, “what a looking child!”

Then the bonne told where she found him, and they
looked at his hair, and talked so much about it, that Parley-voo
wished he could sink through the floor out of sight.
And he thought to himself that he would never again touch
any thing he had been told not to.

The nurse took him up to the nursery, and dressed him
all fresh and nice before his father came home. But the
pretty yellow hair was two or three months growing out.

BABY’S RIDE.

[214]

THE OLD PUMP.

[215]

WINTER ON LAKE CONSTANCE.

People came from far and near to see it and to
skate on it. The lake was black with skaters who were
gliding over its surface.

Men, women, and children alike shared the fun. There
had not been such skating before for fifty years, and it is no
wonder that they made the most of it while it lasted.

In January a warm wind blew for two days: the huge[216]
masses of snow melted, and the little brooks were once more
set running down the mountain-sides. But winter was soon
back again with redoubled severity, bringing fresh snow and
severer frost, and thus keeping the lake frozen.

On Candlemas Day (the second day of February) there
was a grand festival on the ice. The peasants came from
far and near. There were thousands of them there. In
the evening there was a grand illumination, and after that
there were fireworks, and then a dance on the ice.

In summer the water of Lake Constance is of a dark
green color. The River Rhine enters it at the western end,
and flows out at the eastern end. The lake is about forty-four
miles long and nine miles wide.

The view of the frozen lake from the mountains is said
to have been very fine. As you looked down on its smooth
glittering surface, the skaters moving over it appeared like
mere specks, while the houses in the village were like doll-houses.

SWAN-UPPING.

Some miles from London, on one of the most
beautiful parts of the River Thames, a great number of
swans are kept, which are owned by the Dyers’ and Vintners’
Companies.

The owners value them so highly, and take such care of
them, that they have about as nice a time as any birds could
wish to have. I fancy that these Thames swans hold their[217]
heads higher, and feel prouder, than any other swans in
England.

They build their nests in the osier-beds, by the side of the
river, but out of the reach of the water. These nests are
compact, handsome structures, formed of osiers, or reeds.

Every pair of swans has its own walk, or district, within[218]
which no other swans are permitted to build. Every pair
has a keeper appointed to take the entire charge of them.

The keeper receives a small sum for every cygnet that is
reared; and it is his duty to see that the nest is not disturbed.
Sometimes he helps these lordly birds by building
the foundation of the nest for them.

Once a year, in August, the swans are counted and
marked. This is called “swan-upping,” and a good time
it used to be. In gayly decorated barges, with flags flying,
and music playing, the city authorities came up the river to
take up the swans and mark them.

The “upping” began on the first Monday after St. Peter’s
Day. But, before the swans could be taken up, they had to
be caught. This was no easy matter; for the swans are
strong; and often they would lead the uppers a hard chase
among the crooks of the river.

[219]

The mark of the Vintners’ Company is two nicks: hence
came the well-known sign on so many inns in England, “The
Swan with Two Necks,” a corruption from “two nicks.”

These “Thames swans” are very beautiful birds, and well
worth a trip up the river to see: so I hope, that, if ever the
little readers of “The Nursery” take a trip to England,
they will visit Hurley in Bucks, and there they will find
“The Swans with Two Nicks.”

THE MAN IN THE MOON.

Then I get into the rocking-chair, take Helen on one knee
and Lewis on the other, and as they lean on my breast, with
their eyes shut, I rock and talk to them thus:—

“Here we are up in the sky on the moon. Oh, how high
we are! Below us see the clouds blown about like feathers.
Here we are safe and sound in the moon. Look down, and
see the trees on the earth. There’s where the birds are going
to bed. Do you see that streak that looks like a silver
ribbon? That is a river flowing to the sea. Now we are
over the ocean. You can see our moonlight like great plates
of silver all over it. See! there comes a ship all white. It
looks as if it had its nightdress on.

“Here we are over a town. How beautiful the streets
look with gas-lamps burning! And see all the pretty things
in the shop-windows. I know what Helen is looking at.[220]
It is the big doll dressed in silk and satin. I know what
Lewis is looking at. He is looking at the ginger-bread.

“Oh! now we are just over a little white house. I can
see through the window a man with two children in his lap.
Oh, dear! he’s going to do something dreadful with them.”

“What’s that?” asks Helen. “Put them to bed,” I
say. But Lewis says nothing. He is fast asleep.

THE BOY AND THE CAT.

He is looking out of the window.
He sees a cat on the sill
outside. It is an old
strange cat.

The little boy is
fond of kittens; but
he does not like cats.
He is not polite to the
strange cat.

“What do you want
here?” he says. “Why do you
stare at me so? Do you want to eat
me? I’m not a mouse. Go away!”

The cat answers with one word, “Mew!”

“What do you say?” asks the boy. “Are
you cold? Do you want to come in? Do you want some
milk?”

[221]

And all that the cat says is, “Mew!”

“Go away!” says the boy again. “My mother does not
like strange cats. I do not like strange cats. If you are
hungry, go and catch a rat. You can’t come in here.”

The cat does not budge an inch. But still she answers
with a pitiful “Mew!”

Cats cannot talk; but they can think. This cat looks in
at the window and sees the boy. This is what she thinks.

“That boy looks like a boy that I knew when I was a
kitten. I was a pet then. Now I am a cat without any
home. Nobody cares for me. I go from house to house;[222]
but nobody takes me in. I wonder if I can’t make that
little boy take pity on me. I will try.

“Ah! he treats me like everybody else. He tells me to
go away. Pretty soon he will say, ‘Scat!’ and throw water
on me. No: he will not do that. He is so much like the
little boy who used to pet me when I was a kitten, that
I will not run away from him. I will beg to be let in.”

So the cat sat still and said, “Mew!”

And the cat did not
make a mistake. The little
boy did take pity on
her at last. He toddled
off to his mother as fast
as his legs would carry
him, and got a pan of milk, which he set on the floor.

His mother opened the window for him, and the strange
cat came in. How eagerly she lapped up the milk! She
was really a very nice cat. The little boy soon began to
make a pet of her.

And the cat was happy, and the boy was happy; and I
don’t know which was the happier of the two.

BABY-BROTHER.

[223]

[224]

UNDER GREEN LEAVES.