THE

NURSERY

A Monthly Magazine

For Youngest Readers.

IN PROSE.

IN VERSE.

[97]

THE PARROT THAT PLAYED TRUANT.

[98]

THE PARROT THAT PLAYED TRUANT.

But one day, when the window was open, and the door
of the cage was open also, Polly thought it was a good time
to play truant. So she hopped out, rested on the sill a
moment, and then flew into the street, from tree to tree,
and from lamp-post to lamp-post.

Poor Miss Dorothy was in despair. How should she get
back her lost pet? She called in a policeman, and he
advised her to get out a handbill, offering a reward. So
in an hour this notice was pasted on the walls near by:—

Little Tony Peterkin was walking home from school, and
wishing he had money enough to buy a copy of Virgil
without going to his mother for it,—for she was a widow,
and poor,—when he saw a man pasting this handbill on a
wall. Tony read it, and said aloud, “Oh, I wish I could
find that parrot!”

A girl who heard him said, “I saw a parrot just now
on one of the trees in Lake Street.”—”Did you?” said
Tony; and off he ran. The parrot had flown from the tree[99]
to the top of the lamp-post; and when Tony got there, two
women, a newsboy, and a policeman were looking up at the
strange fowl.

It was the work of a second for Tony to spring at the
iron post, and begin climbing up. “No, you don’t!” cried
the parrot. That frightened Tony, so that he almost
dropped; but he took heart when he thought of the two
dollars and a new fresh copy of Virgil.

Up he climbed; but just as he was going to put his hand
on the little cross-bar under the lamp, “Boy, go away!”
cried Poll. Tony’s heart beat at these words; but he held
on. “Poll, Poll, pretty Poll!” cried he: “come and get
a cracker!”—”Polly wants a cracker,” replied the bird.

The truth was, Polly was tired of the street, and wanted
to get back to Miss Dorothy. So, when Polly heard Tony’s
kind words, she flew down to the cross-bar, and, when he
held out his hand, she lighted on it, and Tony slid with her
down the post to the ground.

“Well done, my lad,” said the policeman. He went with
Tony, carrying the bird, to No. 10, Maiden Place; and Miss
Dorothy was so much pleased that she gave Tony three
dollars instead of two. On his way home he bought that
copy Of Virgil.

[100]

FEEDING THE DUCKS.

A mild summer day, and one, two, three, four children
sitting on the ground by the pond, and feeding the ducks!

But I think I hear the larger girl, who is standing up,
say to the sitters, “Children, don’t you know better than
to sit there on the damp earth? You will every one of you
catch a cold. Get up this instant.”

That is what the larger girl ought to say; for many
children take bad colds by sitting on the grass. The other
day, as I went through the Central Park in New York, I saw
a maid in charge of three children, one of them an infant,
and she was letting them lie at full-length on the grass.

I told her she must not do so; but she said the weather
was warm, and there was no danger. As I knew the
parents of the children, I told her she must take the children
up at once, and let them sit on the seats near by.[101]

At length she obeyed me. Two days afterwards I called
on the parents of the children, and then learned that every
one of the little ones was ill with a cold. I told the mother
what I had seen at the Central Park and she told the maid
that never again must she let the children sit on the bare
grass. The maid promised she would not do so again.

A BABY LAY.

[102]

[103]

[104]

CHESTNUT-GATHERING.

Did you ever go chestnut-gathering? Such fun as it is!
especially when a lot of girls and boys go together.

On one of my father’s farms there were many chestnut-trees;
and every autumn, after the first frost, when the
leaves were all turning, and beginning to fall, we used to
have chestnut-gatherings.

The boys used to get long poles, with which they would
beat off the nuts. Sometimes they would climb the trees,
and shake or beat off such nuts as they could not reach
from below. And we girls used to help pick them up, and
put them into baskets.

Some years chestnuts are very scarce. I remember one
year there was only one tree that had any nuts on; and we
could not reach them: not even a man could climb it.

One day, Henry, who was a very kind man, said, “Perhaps
we will cut that tree down: it will make good rails,
and then you children can get all the nuts.”

We no sooner heard this than we gave him no peace till
it was done. And such an event! For we were to see the
tree cut down.

We children were stationed far away from danger; and
another man and Henry chopped and chopped, till it was
almost ready to fall, when they stepped back, and, in less
than a minute, there was such a whistling through the air,
such a crashing, and breaking of branches, and then a loud
thud!

The tree was down. I felt quite breathless with excitement;
and so did the others; for it was some minutes before
we ran up to see how many nuts there were.

Oh, such lots! all spread around, and beaten out of the
prickly burrs, all ready for us. I cannot remember how[105]
many we gathered, but it was some bushels; and we could
not take all that day: so we concluded to return the next
afternoon after school.

And what do you think? When we got there, not a nut
was to be found! The little squirrels had been busy in our
absence, and had taken away every one of them. Saucy
squirrels! But we did not grudge them the nuts; for we
had plenty.

[106]

THE PIGS.

A DAY WITH THE ALLIGATORS.

I Want to tell the young folks who read “The Nursery”
something of my visit to Florida last winter. We first went
to Jacksonville, which lies on the St. John’s River, and is a
very pleasant city. I wish you would find it on the map.

One day, as I sat in the reading-room of the hotel, I
heard shouts of laughter, followed by the clapping of hands.
“What can it be?” thought I, throwing down the newspaper
I was reading, and running into the corridor.

There I saw five or six little reptiles, about half the
length of my arm, that seemed to be running a race over
the canvas carpet with which the floor was covered. A
number of people were looking on. They appeared to be
highly amused by the queer movements of the creatures.[108]

“What are they? Lizards?” cried I.

“Lizards! No: they are young alligators,” said a little
girl, in a tone that implied pity for my ignorance.

“Alligators!” said I, retreating in alarm, as one of them
came towards me.

“Oh, you coward!” cried the little girl, laughing. “They
are too small to hurt you. See me.” And, saying this, she
took one of them up in her apron, and brought it towards
me. I ran into the reading-room, and she ran after me;
but when she saw that I was really afraid of the reptile, she
took it back to the corridor, and placed it on the floor.

These little alligators grow to be huge creatures, sometimes
more than twenty feet long. They live in the creeks
and little rivers that run into the St. John’s. They rarely
go very far from the shore. They live partly on land and
partly in the water.

In Florida the weather in January is often quite as warm
as it is in the Northern States in June. So on a fine winter
day, my father took my sister and me on board the steamer
“Mayflower” for a trip upon the St. John’s River, and
up some of the small streams, where alligators may be
found.

We went some thirty miles towards the south, and then
turned into a small river, where the scenery on both sides
resembled that given in the picture. Cypress-swamps and
high trees overgrown with moss everywhere met our view.
On the banks, and generally on fallen logs, might be seen
alligators basking in the sun.

[110]

THE SPIDER AND HER FAMILY.

Every child has seen
spiders in plenty, spinning
their webs in some corner;
or, after the web or tent
is securely fastened and
finished, lying in wait for
some unfortunate fly or
mosquito.

Oftentimes in these webs
small brown bags are to be
seen, and these, if opened,
will be found to contain a
great many little eggs which the spider has laid; or, sometimes
when you open them, you will find that the eggs
have just hatched, and that there is a bag full of tiny
spiders that have not yet seen the light.

Spiders indeed have as many children sometimes as the
“Old woman who lived in a shoe;” but, unlike that famed
personage, they seem to know just what to do. It is very
interesting to watch them, and see how they manage their
little ones.

One day as I was walking on a country road, where there
was not much travel, my attention was caught by a large
spider in the dust at my feet, so large that I stopped to look
at it. Its body seemed rough and thick, while its legs were
short. I took a stick, and poked it, when, presto change!
my spider had a small, round, smooth body, and long legs.

Truly this was more strange than any sleight-of-hand trick
I had ever seen. I had heard of snakes and frogs shedding
their skins, and many other queer stories of animals and
insects, but of nothing at all like this.[111]

I stooped closer to the ground to see if I could get a clew
to the mystery, and found that the dust all about the large
spider was alive with little ones that she had just shaken
off. What a load! And how did they ever get up on her
back? Did they run up her slender legs, and crowd and
cling on?

How I wished I knew the spider language, that I might
find out why this mother weighed herself down with such a
burden of little ones as she walked the street! Was she
giving them an airing, and showing them the world? or had
the broom of some housemaid swept away her web, and
forced her thus to take flight to save her family from
destruction?

Perhaps she had been burned out. Or was it the first
day of May to her? and had her landlord forced her out of
her house because she could not pay the rent?

Alas! she could not tell me; and I left her there in the
road with all her little ones about her.

[112]

HOW TO DRAW A GOOSE.

[113]

WHY UNCLE RALPH DID NOT HIT THE DEER.

Many years ago, when I was a little fellow, I went on
a sail with my Uncle Ralph on one of the prettiest of our
northern lakes. The day was fine, the air was mild but fresh,
and the hills and banks around us were clothed in green.

Besides Uncle Ralph, in the boat were my Aunt Mary,
and cousins Walter and Susan Brent. Uncle Ralph was a
sportsman, and he had a gun, with which he hoped to bring
down a deer, in case he should see one.

I did not at all like this part of his plan. I knew it
would mar my own and my aunt’s pleasure, if we were
made to see the death of a noble stag or a gentle fawn.
But I was too fond of a sail to express my dislike of Uncle
Ralph’s plan.

At the foot of a hill we stopped in our little boat to pick
berries. Aunt Mary said she would stay and read. The
rest of us went with Uncle Ralph to a clearing near by, to
pick raspberries.[114]

We had not been gone long, when Uncle Ralph sent me
back for a mug with which to get water from a cool spring.
As I came within sight of the boat, I saw Aunt Mary take
the ramrod of the gun, extract the bullet, and then put in
fresh wadding, and ram it down.

I understood it all, but said nothing. After we had got
berries and water enough, we set sail again, and this time
for the opposite shore, where Uncle Ralph’s keen eyes had
detected a stag and two fawns.

We landed in a little cove out of sight of the deer. Uncle
Ralph took his gun, and crept through the woods. In about
fifteen minutes we heard him fire. Aunt Mary smiled, and
took up her book. Soon Uncle Ralph came back.

“Where’s your game, Ralph?” asked Aunt Mary.

“Will you believe it,” said he: “I got within thirty feet
of them; had the fairest shot that a fellow could possibly
have, but somehow I missed my aim—didn’t so much as
graze one of them.”

“Well, I’m not sorry for it,” said Aunt Mary. “We
shall enjoy our luncheon under the trees all the better.”

I looked at her, and laughed, but she checked me with a
“Hush!”

FAITHFUL DANDY.

Mr. Baxter, a poor laboring-man, was the owner of a
fine dog, whose name was Dandy. Having to remove from
one village to another in the State of Maine, Mr. Baxter
hired a small wagon on which his furniture was packed.
Then he led the horse, while Dandy followed behind.

When he came to the place where he was to stop, Mr.
Baxter unloaded his wagon, but was sorry to find that a[115]
chair and a basket were missing from the back-part of the
wagon, and that Dandy, also, could not be found. The
day passed; and, as the dog did not appear, the poor man
feared that something must have happened to him.

The next day, as Mr. Baxter was on his way back to the
old cottage to take away another load, he heard the bark of[116]
a dog, which sounded very much like Dandy’s. Judge how
glad he was when he saw by the roadside, not only his lost
property, but his faithful Dandy, seated erect by the chair
and basket, keeping strict guard over them.

They had fallen from the wagon when Mr. Baxter was
not looking; but Dandy had seen them, and, like a good
dog, felt it his duty to stay behind and guard what belonged
to his master.

Although left for so long a time without food, the faithful
creature had never quitted the spot where the chair and
basket had fallen. But, when he saw his master, how glad
was poor Dandy! He leaped up, put his paws on the man’s
shoulders, and barked with joy.

“Good Dandy! good Dandy!” said Mr. Baxter: “you
must be hungry, old fellow! Come along: you shall have
a good dinner for this. While I have a crust of bread, I’ll
share it with you, you noble old dog.”

LEARN YOUR LESSON.

[117]

EMMA AND HER DOLL.

[118]

[119]

OUR OLD BILLY.

We call him old Billy; but he is not really old: he is a
young horse, and as full of capers as any puppy. After he
has been standing in the barn for two or three days, he acts
like a wild creature when he is taken out, and will whisk
round corners, and scamper up and down the hill, as if he
really meant to tear every thing to pieces. But just fill
the carriage up with ladies or babies, and he will step along
as carefully as if he thought an extra joggle would break
some of them.

He is very fond of my aunt, who usually drives him; and,
when she goes to ride, he always expects her to give him
something good,—an apple, or a crust, or a lump of sugar.
If she has nothing for him, he will grab the corner of her
veil, or the ribbons on her hat, and chew them, to teach[120]
her not to forget him next time; and he will lap her face
and hands, like a dog.

If she goes into a store, and stays longer than he thinks
necessary, he will step across the sidewalk, carriage and all,
and try to get his head in at the door to look for her.

There is another horse in the barn where he is kept,—a
very quiet, well-behaved nag, named Tom; and sometimes,
when Billy feels naughty, he will put his head over the
side of the stall and nip Tom, not enough to hurt much, but
just enough to tease him, and make him squeal.

One day auntie heard a great clattering in the barn, and
went out to see what was the matter. When she opened
the door, both horses were in their stalls, and all was quiet.
She noticed that the meal-chest was open: so she closed it,
and went out. Before she reached the house, the noise
began again, and she went quietly back, and peeped in at
the window.

There was Billy, dipping his nose into the meal-chest,
which he had opened. “Billy, what are you doing?” said
auntie; and it was fun enough to see him whisk into his
stall, and stand there as quiet and demure as a cat that
had just been caught eating up the cream.

Billy had slipped the halter, and so set himself free.
Since then he has been fastened more securely; yet he still
succeeds in freeing himself once in a while.

THE THRUSH FEEDING THE CUCKOO.

The cuckoo is a queer bird. It arrives in England about
the middle of April, and departs in the autumn for the
woods of Northern Africa. In every language the well-known
notes of the male bird have suggested its name.[121]

In its habits it is shy; and its voice may be often heard
whilst the eye seeks in vain to find the bird itself. Its
food consists of caterpillars and various insects.

The female cuckoo makes no nest, and takes no care of[122]
her young. How do you suppose she does? Having a
wide bill, she takes up in it one of her eggs, which she puts
in the nest of some other bird that feeds on insects.

The strange nurses to whom the cuckoo confides her
young become not only good mothers to them, but neglect
their own children to take care of the young cuckoos.

As the young cuckoo thrives and grows strong, he thrusts
the other birds out of the nest, so that he may have all the
room to himself. For five weeks or more his adopted
mother supplies him with food.

In the picture a thrush is represented as feeding a young
cuckoo, that has probably driven off all the thrush’s own
children.

JIPPY AND JIMMY.

[123]

THE JOLLY OLD COOPER.

[125]

THE CAT AND THE STARLING.

The European starling is a sprightly and handsome bird,
about eight inches long, of a black color with purple and
greenish reflections, and spotted with buff. It may be
taught to repeat a few words, and to whistle short tunes.

A little boy in England, who had one as a pet, which he
named Dicky, tells the following story about it:[126]—

“I took it home with me, and got a cage for it. But
Master Dicky was not satisfied with so little room, and got
out, and took possession of the whole house. One morning
I was awakened by his chirping, and, on looking around, I
saw him on my pillow, to which he used to come every
morning.

“We had at the same time a cat, with whom he soon
became very good friends. They always drank milk out of
the same saucer. One afternoon, a basin of milk being on
the table, Master Dicky thought he would take a bath: so in
he went, splashing the milk all over the table.

“Sometimes he would take it into his head to have a ride
on the cat’s back, to which she had no objection. At night
he would sleep with the cat and kitten; and once when the
servant came down in the morning, she said that she saw
the cat with her paw around the bird, keeping him warm,
though that seems almost too much to believe.”

THE EXPRESS PACKAGE.

[127]

[128]