The Nursery, January 1881, Vol. XXIX

Mary had a fine new doll. Harry had a box, and, on taking off the cover, up sprang a wise-looking little man, with a cap on his head. Jessy had a doll, and a very pretty one it was too. Tommy had a what-do-you-call-it. Why did he look up the chimney? I think it was to see if there was any sign of Santa Claus.

John mounted his horse, waved his sword, and held up his gun. But very soon he began to get tired of them all. The thought came into his head that he was more than eight years old. "What do I want of these toys?" said he. "Why was I so silly as to choose them, when aunt Susan would have given me a microscope?" And John laid down his sword and gun, feeling quite above such childish things.

When aunt Susan came, she saw that John did not seem as glad over his presents as the rest of the children did over theirs. "What is the matter, John?" she asked. "Why are you not playing with your toys?"

"Aunt Susan," said John, "I wish I had taken the microscope. Is it too late?"

"No, John. I thought you might repent your choice, so I said to Mr. Grover, who keeps the toy-shop, 'I think I shall want to change the microscope: can I do so?' He said, 'Yes.' His shop will be open till eleven o'clock. So run round and get the microscope, and tell him to send to-morrow and take back the toys."

In five seconds John had on his hat, and was running down the street to Mr. Grover's. He came back with the microscope in about half an hour, and was full of joy at the change. A merry Christmas it was then for all the children!

But may it not be the form or dress of the shepherd that the sheep know, and follow him? To test this, a traveller, who had put the question, once exchanged dresses with a shepherd, and went amongst the sheep.

The traveller in the shepherd's dress called the sheep, and tried to lead them; but "they knew not his voice," and did not move. But when the shepherd called them, though he was in the traveller's dress, they ran at once to him, thus proving that it was the voice that led them.

I have a dog that will sometimes bark at me when I put on an overcoat which he has not seen me wear before. But, the moment he hears my voice, he seems ashamed of not having known me, and will whine, as if he would say, "Pardon me, good master. It was very stupid in me not to know you. It was your coat I did not know. I will try to be wiser the next time."

He did not make much in a day; but what he got was a great help to his mother. That thought kept him daily at his work. One day he saw a little girl trying to lead her little brother across the street. The carts and the horses made her afraid, and she ran back timidly.

"What's the matter, little girl?" asked Henry.

"I am afraid we shall be run over," said the girl.

"I'll help you across," said Henry. Then, lifting the little boy in his arms, he took the girl by the hand, and led her safely to the other side of the street.

"Thank you!" said the little girl; and "Thank you!" said her little brother, as plainly as he could speak it.

I went up and asked the boy with the broom if he knew the children. "I never saw them before in my life," said he; "but such little ones can't get across without help."

"You are a good boy," said I. "I think you must have a good father."

"I had one once," said he; "but now I have only a good mother."

"Well, Henry," said I, "give her this shilling, and tell her I send it to her for teaching her boy to do good when he can get a chance."

Tears came to the boy's eyes. A shilling seemed a good deal of money to him, and it pleased him all the more because it was given him for his mother.

"Thank you, sir; thank you!" said he, and he ran back to his work one of the happiest boys in London, I think, at that moment.

One day the bird was hopping about on the floor. Somebody went out, leaving the door open, just as "somebody" is always doing. Dora's mother said, "Dora, shut the door, or the cat will be after your bird."

"Yes, mother, in a minute," said Dora. "I just want to finish this line in my drawing." But the cat did not wait till this was done. In he popped, and with one dart he had the bird in his mouth.

Down went the slate on the floor, and away went cat, bird, and Dora. There was a wild chase on the lawn. "In a minute" Dora came back weeping, with the poor bird in her hand, but, oh! the life had all been shaken out of him.

How Dora cried! Mamma was sorry for her, but said, "A great many things may happen 'in a minute,' Dora. I hope the next time you are told to do a thing, you will do it at once."

Spring and Summer and russet Fall
Come and go with a varied cheer;
Each has something, and none has all,
Of the good things of the year.

Winter laughs, though the trees are bare,
With a kindly laugh that is good to see;
For of all the forest is none so rare
As his merry Christmas-tree.

It blooms with many a taper's flame;
And hidden under the leaves of green
Are fruits of every shape and name,
The funniest ever seen,—

Book and bundle, and scarf, and shawl,
Picture and peanuts, skate and saw,
Candy and album, and bat and ball,
Hatchet, and doll, and taw,

Games and frames, and comical dames
With walnut faces wrinkled and old,
Fillets rare for the sunny hair,
And jewels of pearl and gold.

For the good St. Nicholas blest this tree,
And it blooms and bears for every one,
With a gift of love to you and me,
For beauty, or use, or fun.

Poorer than any the Child whose name
Has given a name to our Christmas-tree;
Yet kingly gifts to his cradle came,
And kingly gifts gave He.

GEORGE S. BURLEIGH.

Seeing a small boat tied to a big stone by a rope, he pulled the boat up to the shore. "What a nice little boat!" said he. "I will get into it, and rock it, as I once saw a big boy do."

So he got into the boat, and began to rock it. The boat got loose, and drifted down the river. Walter did not notice this until he was quite a distance from the shore; then, turning round, he saw what had happened. Every moment the current was carrying him further from home.

Walter was not a timid boy, and, instead of crying, he began to reason in this way: "The boat does not leak. It is safe and sound. There are no waves to make me afraid. The wind does not blow. Here on a seat is a thick blanket. In this box is a loaf of bread and a knife. The water of the river is good to drink, and here is a tin mug. I think I will not cry, but hope for the best."

So he sat down. He called to some people on the shore; but they did not hear him. He stood up, and waved his hat to a man in a passing boat, and cried, "Help, help!" But the man thought it was some little fellow making fun of him.

Meanwhile Walter's mother had become anxious. She ran down to the river, and followed his foot-tracks to the edge of the water. Then she ran back to her husband; but he was not in the house. In about an hour he came back, and she said, "Quick, quick! Get a boat, and call John to help you. Walter is drifting down the river in that little green boat, I am sure."

Mr. Dale ran out of the house, called his man John, and they went down to the bank. Here they took a good fast boat, pulled it out into the stream, and began to row with the current.

It was getting late. A mist was creeping over the great city of London. They could hardly see the tall stores, the masts and steeples on one side. But on they went, rowing swiftly with their good oars, as if for dear life.

They looked out sharply on both sides to catch a sight of the little green boat. At last, when they had rowed about two miles, with the tide in their favor, Mr. Dale cried out, "I see it! I see it! But, ah! it is empty. I see no sign of a boy in it. What can have become of poor Walter?"

On they rowed, and at last came up with the boat. Still no Walter was to be seen. The poor father was in despair, when all at once Walter started up from under the great blanket, where he had been hiding. He cried out, "Here I am, papa, safe and sound!"

"Oh, you little rogue! Come here and let me pull your ears!" They all got back to their home in time for a late tea, which mother had kept warm for them. Walter was kissed and then cuffed; but the cuffs were so tender, that they made him laugh even more than the kisses.

He lived with his parents in a neat cottage near by a mountain stream. He ran home, and showed the bird to his sister Edith. They named it Jack.

Jack was quite a large bird. His body was black as coal; his breast was white; and his wings and tail shaded off into a dark green. His bill was long and very strong. He had a shrewd, knowing look. As he was quite tame, he must have been some one's pet.

He would hop and strut around in such a funny, pompous way, that one could not help laughing. He would take food from any one's hand, but would not let any one touch him, except Mr. Hart, the children's father.

To Mr. Hart he seemed to take a great liking. He would hop on to his hand or shoulder: he would follow him all over the place. As soon as Mr. Hart came into the house, Jack would stand outside the door, and scream to him to come out. Indeed, Jack was almost too fond of him.

One day when Mr. Hart was chopping wood, Jack kept laying his bill within two or three inches of the place where the axe fell. It seemed just as if he wanted his bill chopped off.

Jack could talk a little. He could say "pretty," "what," and "yes, sir." When hungry, he would come round to the kitchen-door. There he would keep up a loud chattering, till food was given him to eat.

Jack was shy of Marcus, the dog. But, while Marcus was eating his dinner, Jack would steal up, and seize a bone from the plate. Then he would run off and hide it.

I believe that all magpies are thieves. I know that Jack was a sad thief. He would carry off almost any thing he saw lying about. One day he was caught in the act of carrying off the gardener's pipe.

It was fun for Ernest and Edith to watch him at his mischief. All summer they made much of him. Now, in October, though the trees are still green and the wild flowers are not gone, we have had in our Colorado home a taste of winter.

The ground has been white with snow. Jack is still with us, and seems quite happy. Edith and Ernest may stay here all winter. Perhaps I may tell you something of their winter sports. Would you like to hear it?

It is my niece Clara. She has been out with her brothers and the men to gather holly and evergreen for Christmas. First they cut down a little pine for the Christmas-tree. It was not so very little either; for it was twenty feet high.

There was snow on the ground, and they had a sledge on which to pile the hemlock-boughs, the evergreens, and the holly. Clara saw a squirrel run up a tree, and called to her brothers to look; but they were not quick enough to see it.

Then she spied a hollow place by the side of a hill, and going to look at it, she found it was a little pond of ice. It was smooth as glass, and she and her brothers had a nice time sliding on it.

Clara was sorry when it got to be twelve o'clock, and it was time to go home. The sledge was piled up with boughs, and the oxen wanted their dinner. Yes, they must go.

But when Clara was nestled in her little bed that night, and had said her prayers, this was her thought, "Oh, I never shall forget this happy, happy day; the bright, bracing air, so sweet and clear; the mild, soft sunshine; the smell of the pines; the frolic on the pond; the ride on the sledge; the little snowbirds that came in a flock when I began to feed them. Oh, I never shall forget it; no, never, never-r-r, nev—;" And with this last word half uttered, my little niece fell asleep.

Albert is a bright little fellow. He is not three years old; but he can read ten words in "The Nursery." These words are, cat, dog, cow, horse, bird, mother, father, brother, sister, apple.

One day, John the gardener left a basket of apples at the top of the garden-steps. Albert saw it, and knew it was meant for the house. "I will take it in," said he. "I am strong."

But the basket was not so light as he had thought. Indeed it was quite heavy. Perhaps this was because it was full of apples. The gardener had just picked them from a fine old tree in the orchard.

Albert was a stout little fellow; but the basket was too much for him. In trying to lift it, he upset it; and some of the apples rolled out down the steps as fast as they could go. Perhaps they saw it was a good chance to run away.

Albert did not cry. He knew that crying would do no good. What was now the first thing to be done? Albert thought for a while, and said to himself, "The first thing to do is to set the basket upright."

He did not find it hard work to do this. All the apples had not run out. Some were still in the basket.

Albert picked up one, smelt of it, and then put it back. He next placed the basket upright.

Having done this so that the basket stood firm, he said, "What is the next thing to do? The next thing to do is to put back the apples; and I am the boy that can do it."

And he did it well. He did not once think of keeping any of the apples for himself; nor did he even take a bite of one of them. He was a good boy, and too honest for that.

If any one had said to him, "Give me an apple," Albert would have said, "The apples are not mine to give."

"Now it is all right again," said Albert. "What next? If the basket will not let me carry it, the basket shall carry me. That would be fair play."

So he mounted the basket, as you see, took hold of the handle with his left hand, and cried out, "Get up, sir!" He made believe it was a horse. "Get up, sir!" he cried. But the horse would not move.

Albert then began to shake the basket, as if to urge it on. Ah, me! who would have thought to see it play the gay horse in earnest? It seemed so gentle!

Who would have thought to see it shy, and kick up, and throw Albert off? But so it did. Albert put out both hands to save himself, but he could not keep his seat. Over he went.

Over went the basket. Albert, apples, and all rolled down the steps. "Help!" he cried. The gardener ran up to see what was the matter.

"Where are my apples?" said he. "Here!" said Albert, jumping up, for the lucky rogue was not hurt a bit.