The Nursery, April 1878, Vol. XXIII. No. 4 - A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers

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Title: The Nursery, April 1878, Vol. XXIII. No. 4 - A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers
Author: Various
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Nursery, April 1878, Vol. XXIII. No. 4 - A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers" ***

by Linda Cantoni.

THE

NURSERY

_A Monthly Magazine_

FOR YOUNGEST READERS.

VOLUME XXIII.--No. 4.

Contents

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

[Illustration: TIRED OUT.]

TIRED OUT.

[Illustration: O]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.

[Illustration]

THE HERONS.

[Illustration]

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.

[Illustration]

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.

[Illustration]

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.

[Illustration]

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.

[Illustration]

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.

[Illustration]

"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.

[Illustration: 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."

[Illustration]

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.

[Illustration]

"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.

[Illustration]

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."

[Illustration]

"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.

[Illustration]

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.

[Illustration]

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.

[Illustration]

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.

[Illustration: Music]

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:

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.")

*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Nursery, April 1878, Vol. XXIII. No. 4 - A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers" ***

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