The Nursery, January 1873, Vol. XIII.

THE STORY OF THE SPARROWS

WE are little English sparrows. We have been two years in America. We were brought over by Mr. Wakefield's gardener. He let us loose in the grove; and there we have been ever since.

Mr. Wakefield has built little houses for us, and put them on the boughs of the trees. We go into these houses when it rains hard or blows. Once the doors of our houses were all blocked up with snow.

The winters here are much colder than in England, where we were born. More snow falls, and thicker ice forms here. But we like our new home very well.

Many young sparrows have been born to us. They are proud of being Americans. They think they are cleverer than their parents, because their parents, you see, are English. Pride is not right, is it?

There is a bird called the butcher-bird,—a very savage bird,—that tries to kill us. We have to look out for these butcher-birds. But they cannot get into our houses: the doors are too small for them.

There is a little bird called the snow-bird, that comes in winter. We are not afraid of him. He is afraid of us. We drive him away when Emily feeds us all. Emily calls us naughty when we do this: she threatens to punish us for it.

Emily and her folks live not far from our grove. Emily has a father and mother, a grandfather, a brother Philip, and a baby sister, whose name is Nelly. Grandfather and Nelly are great friends. Grandfather brings Nelly in his arms to see Emily and Philip feed us.

One day, just as it had begun to snow, we thought we would fly over and make a call on Emily. She saw us from the window, and came out. Philip came too. They gave us crumbs and seed. Grandfather brought baby to see us. We did not fly off when baby said, "Goo!" We were not afraid.

By and by two saucy snow-birds came, and tried to get some of our seed. We flew at them, and drove them off. But Emily said, "You naughty sparrows! Let those snow-birds be! They are as good as you are, any day."

Now, that was not kind in Emily. We think we are better and handsomer than snow-birds. We were so much offended, that we all flew away, and left her with her precious snow-birds.

But the next day we were hungry: so we forgave her, and made her a visit. She was glad enough to see us. So were grandfather and baby. Those hateful snow-birds kept out of the way.

THE LITTLE TEACHER

Little Mary is seven years old. She loves "The Nursery." She has read it for nearly three years; and her mother says she has learned more from it than she has learned at school.

At first she used to look at the pictures, and ask her brother Cecil to read to her about them. Oh, how happy they were reading together! By and by she began to try to read the story she had just heard; and soon she learned to read to herself very well.

A black man named John has lived with Mary's father many years. He could not read. Mary felt sorry for John. She thought he would like to read nice stories too.

One day she said, "Mamma, may I teach John to read?" "Yes, dear," said her mother, "if you can."

After tea, Mary's mother looked into the kitchen; and what do you think she saw? John was holding little Mary on his knee, and she was teaching him to read.

She was pointing to the letters, one by one, and trying patiently to make him remember his A, B, C; and John, with his eyes fixed upon the book, was giving close attention to the words of his little teacher. It was a pretty picture.

Mary did not give up trying until John had learned to read, though it took a long time, and she had to give him many lessons. He tried hard to learn; and now he is glad that he can read, and Mary is glad too.

CHRISTMAS MORNING

KATY'S CHRISTMAS-PRESENTS

Poor Katy Carr was an invalid. She had to lie in bed all the time; for not long ago she had a bad fall from a swing, and hurt her spine.

But Katy had brothers and sisters. There was Clover, the little girl, who, in the picture, is seen looking over the head of the bed, behind the pillow. There was Elsie, who is seen hugging Katy.

Sister Joanna is the girl with black curls, who stands with a stocking in her hand. Brother Phil, not yet old enough for trousers, stands at her side; and that boy with his hand on the knob of the bedpost is Dorry.

It is Christmas morning; and the children have brought in presents for poor sick Katy. Observe that nice large chair with a long-cushioned back, ending in a footstool, and which tips back so as to be just like a bed: that is a present from Katy's father.

See that little evergreen-tree planted in a red flower-pot: the boughs are hung with oranges and nuts, and shiny red apples, and pop-corn balls, and strings of bright berries. These are all presents from the children. A little silver bell, with "Katy" engraved on the handle, is among the pretty things.

Then there is a new book, which you may spy out if you will look sharp. How the children do enjoy seeing dear Katy happy! They have all had presents themselves; and they will soon show them to her. They hope she will be well enough to play with them before spring.

These children used to have rare frolics among themselves. On St. Valentine's eve, they had many letters, most of which, I think, must have been written by Katy.

But among them there was one from Little Red Riding Hood, over whose sad fate Joanna used to cry. As many other children have heard about Red Riding Hood, they will be glad to have good news of her. Here is her letter:—

I send you my picture, dear Johnnie, to show that I'm just as alive as you, and that you needn't cry over my fate any more, as you used to do. The wolf didn't hurt me at all that day; for I kicked and fought and cried, till he dropped me out of his mouth, and ran away in the woods to hide.

And grandma and I have lived ever since in the little brown house so small, and churned fresh butter, and made cream-cheeses, nor seen the wolf at all. So cry no more for fear I'm eaten: the naughty wolf is shot, and, if you will come to tea some evening, you shall see for yourself, I'm not.

If you would like to hear more about the Carr children, you will find their full history most charmingly written in a book called "What Katy Did;" a story by Susan Coolidge, nicely illustrated by Addie Ledyard, and published by Roberts Brothers.

LITTLE MISCHIEF

I shall tell you some stories about a little girl whose name was Bessie Allen. She was so fond of being busy, that she sometimes got into sad scrapes. So people called her Little Mischief.

One day she thought her papa's hat looked rough and rusty: so what did she do but wash it with a sponge wet in water. She thought she was making the hat look quite nice and shiny; but she nearly spoiled it.

Her father did not like it at all when he found what she had done. He loved his little girl; but he thought her much too meddlesome.

One day Bessie was at her aunt's house when the folks were away. But Carlo the dog was at home; and Bessie had her doll Cornelia to play with. At last she placed Cornelia up on the arm-chair with her arms over the back.

Then seeing near by an inkstand, and a bottle of gum with a brush in it, Bessie thought she would amuse herself by painting Carlo's face with ink. This was very silly, and Carlo seemed to think so; for he struggled, and tried to get away.

The brush tickled him; he did not like to taste of the ink: at last he broke away, and hid himself under the sofa.

Bessie had a piece of biscuit in her pocket. She took it out, and offered it to Carlo. It was so nice to get biscuit without having to stand on his hind-legs first, or jump a great height, or do something funny to earn it, that Carlo came out.

Then Bessie seized him, and tried once more to ink his face; but this time Carlo tore himself loose, and ran out of the room, knocking over the stool on which stood the inkstand, as he went.

In trying to stop him, Bessie soiled her nice white frock; and the ink streamed over the carpet. Here was mischief.

Next month I will tell you more stories about Bessie Allen.

SANTA CLAUS

BECKY

ROBERT'S PROMISE TO SANTA CLAUS

Robert's hope was that he should have a sled. "O Santa Claus!" said he, "if you will only bring me a sled, I will promise to give all your other presents away to those who need them most."

Uncle Charles heard this speech, and said, "May I send word to Santa Claus of your promise?"

"Yes, you may," said Robert; "for I am in earnest about it. If Santa Claus will only bring me a sled, I shall be content."

"And you will bestow his other Christmas-gifts on those who need them most,—is that the bargain?" asked Uncle Charles.

"Yes, that is it," said Robert.

The little boy went to sleep that night, wondering who Mr. Santa Claus was, and whether he would heed a hint from Uncle Charles.

Early Christmas morning, Robert woke; and what do you think he saw by the side of his bed? Well, it was a fine sled, painted red, with thick iron runners.

Robert could hardly believe his eyes. He jumped out of bed, and dressed himself. Then, as the morning light grew clearer, he saw other presents,—a beautiful pair of skates, a rabbit that could hop out of a box, but was not alive, a bat and ball, a bag of marbles, a fine pocket-knife, a silver pencil-case, a ship all rigged, a paint-box, and many more things that I cannot name.

"And all these things are mine!" cried Robert. But he then remembered his promise to Santa Claus, and sighed. "What a nice pair of skates!" thought he. "And this knife and this pencil-case,—they are just what I want. Will Santa Claus ever find it out, I wonder, if I keep them?"

It was only for a moment that the little boy hesitated. Then he put his hand on his sled, and said, "No! a promise is a promise. Here is what I asked for. I sent word to Mr. Santa Claus what I would do; and it would be mean now if I were to break my promise."

I am glad to say that Robert distributed all the presents, except the sled, among the boys and girls of his acquaintance, whose parents were too poor to spend money on Christmas-gifts.

Uncle Charles was so much pleased with Robert's conduct, that he bought the prettiest pair of skates he could find, and put them on Robert's feet, and told him they were his own.

PIGGY'S VISIT

Mary stood by the table kneading dough. Annie was washing Dolly's apron. Bobby was making a pasteboard wagon for Dolly. Clara was rocking the cradle, which was baby Dan's carriage to the land of Nod. Cook was paring the "taters," as she called them. Mother sat quietly sewing on Annie's sack. How still every thing was!

All at once piggy put his nose in at the door with an "Ugh, ugh! May I come in?"

Mary let some flour fall; Annie hugged Dolly closely, perhaps to keep piggy from eating her; cook got the broom; baby screamed; and Clara laughed aloud.

Mother took the baby, and sat still. Where was piggy? and where was Bob?

Down came the broom where piggy had been; but piggy was scampering down the path, with Bob at his heels, and in a few minutes piggy was in his pen in the far corner of the lot, grunting with fear and weariness.

Bob came up, and closed the door of the pen, "Piggy," said Bob, "naughty piggy, to come where you are not wanted! I should think you would like to stay in your own house, so neat and comfortable."

"Ugh, ugh!" said piggy.

"Oh! you were lonesome, were you?" said Bob. "You thought it was no more than civil to call on your neighbors. You wanted to show us that you were not too proud to be sociable. Next time please to send in your card first."

"Ugh, ugh!" said piggy.

That was more than a week ago; and piggy has staid at home since then. Perhaps he is waiting for us to return his call.

Now, how many persons have I told you about?

THE JOHNNY CAKE

STOPPING THE EXPRESS

Charles had a small flag which his father gave him. It was fine fun for a while to march about and wave it; but it did not seem to be of much use. So at last Charles hit upon a plan of making his flag do some good. This was the plan: When his father had any bundles to send to Boston, Charles ran down to the street, and put his flag in the fence.

This was a signal for the expressman to stop. When the man saw the flag in the fence, he knew that he was to stop and take a bundle.

Here he is, waiting while Charles brings out the bundle. He knows that Charles is on the watch for him, and that there is no need of driving through the gate. Charles likes to do errands for his father.

Here is Charles, carrying out the bundle. He is running fast, because the man cannot wait long. "Hurry up, little boy!" says the man (who is fond of a joke); "there's no time to play marbles. This wagon must get to the station by nine o'clock."

WHAT THE SHIP BROUGHT

HOW SMART MANAGED THE SHEEP

Smart was a sheep-dog that belonged to a Mr. Scott, who lived in Scotland. On the large sheep-farms of that country a single shepherd often has the charge of from three to six thousand sheep.

The shepherd has with him usually two dogs; of these, one is the driving-out, the other the bringing-in dog. To the first the shepherd points out a number of sheep, and informs him by voice and action that he wishes him to drive them to a distant hill. The dog at once does as he is bid.

In the same way the shepherd informs the second dog that a lot of sheep on a distant hill are to be brought to the spot on which he then stands; and off runs the second dog, and brings the sheep to his master.

Mr. Scott's dog Smart was so trained, that he would never frighten the sheep. In driving a flock from one pasture to another, the sheep would often take a wrong turn, and then scamper off as fast as they could go.

At such times it is the custom of shepherds to send a dog after them at the top of his speed. He is not long in overtaking them, when, if the weather be warm, and the lanes narrow and dusty, the sheep are much frightened, and not infrequently are hurt.

Now, to prevent this, Mr. Scott would order his dog Smart to go the other side of the hedge or fence, saying, "Now, go ahead, and bring them back, and take care not to frighten them."

Smart would trot off so that the sheep should not see him, and in a short time would peep over or through the hedge. At length, when he had satisfied himself that he had got ahead of the sheep, he would come out gently in advance of them, and drive them back down the lane so quietly as not to give them the least alarm.

Smart would never attempt to go ahead of a flock in the usual way: he would manage so that the sheep should not know he was trying to get ahead of them. The picture will show you how he did. Was he not a wise dog?

HOW TWO BOYS PASSED CHRISTMAS

MORNING

There were two little boys who were cousins. One was named Richard; the other was named Paul. Richard lived where he could see from his chamber-window the Atlantic Ocean. There was a thick clump of trees at the back of his house; and in winter the ground in front would be often covered with snow.

Paul lived in Southern California, where, from his chamber-window, he could see the Pacific Ocean. He had a brother Harry and two sisters. It never snowed where he was: and he had no use for skates; for the water never froze.

Richard had a sister Mary, of whom he was very fond. Here is what Richard wrote to his Cousin Paul about his way of passing Christmas morning:—

"I wish you and Harry and the girls had been with us; for we had a good time on the ice. I'll tell you what we did. As soon as we had breakfasted, I got out my sled 'Dauntless,' and told Mary to wrap up, and bring her skates along.

"She got ready, and took her seat on the sled. Tiger began to bark; for he saw that a frolic was on foot. Off we started to the pond. A dozen boys and girls were there before us. They had made a fire on an island in the middle of the pond. It was a cool, bracing day; but the wind didn't blow.

"Our island we called 'The Isle of Refuge,' Julia Peters named it. She has a knack at inventing names. The island is fifteen feet long by twelve wide; and it has a rock that makes a capital fireplace.

"We had a fine time. All the girls could skate well. Nobody broke through the ice; but some of us had falls. No harm done. We thought of you, and wondered what you and the rest of our cousins in California might be about. I hope you will write me as you promised."

Well, Paul did write; and here is an extract from his letter: "We all woke early; for father had been out in a boat with some friends all night, and we were expecting them back. We dressed, and went down to the beach; and there, right in the face of the sun, we saw father's boat.

"Harry had a spyglass; and he knelt on the beach, and spied out father on the deck of the boat. Mother and the girls waved their handkerchiefs, while I jumped and shouted.

"It was a mild, lovely, morning,—so mild, that we wore our straw hats and light clothing. We thought of you; and I said, 'Wouldn't Richard like to be here, where Christmas morning opens as soft and warm as a day in June?'

"But Harry cried out, 'Don't you believe it! Richard is either coasting or skating; and I wish I were with him. How I would enjoy a high old time on the ice, and then a coast down hill over the snow! That's the fun for me!'