قراءة كتاب The Nursery, January 1877, Volume XXI, No. 1 A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers
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The Nursery, January 1877, Volume XXI, No. 1 A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers
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But one day, when he had been left alone, the chain, that held him by a ring in his nose, got loose from the ring; and Dandy was soon a free bear. Taking his pole, he made his way, as fast as he could, to a mountain where the woods were high and thick.
Here he found a number of fellow-bears. Instead of treating them as equals, he put on fine airs, told them what a rare life he had led among men, how many nice tricks he had learned, and how much wiser he was than all the bears that had ever lived.
For a time the other bears were simple enough to take him at his word. They thought, because he said so, that he must be a very great bear indeed. He never was at a loss when they asked him a question, never would confess his ignorance, and so had to say much that was not true.
Dandy boasted so of the respect which men had paid him, that he made the other bears think he was doing them a great honor by living with them. He made them all wait on him. But at last a young bear, that had escaped from a trap which some men had set for him, said to Dandy, "Is that ring in your nose for ornament or for use?"
"For ornament, of course," said Dandy. "This ring was a gift from a man who was once my partner. He was so fond of me, and so pleased with my dancing, that he never tired of serving me. He brought me all my food. In fact I had him at my beck and call."
"My friends," said the young bear, "he tells a fib. That ring was put in his nose to be fastened to a chain. He was held a slave by the man who, he says, treated him so finely. He was made to dance through fear of being touched up with a red-hot iron. In short, he is what men call a 'humbug.'"
"Yes, he is a humbug," cried the others, though they did not know what the word meant. "We will have no more of his fine airs."—"I never liked him."—"Drive him off."—"Send him back to his dancing-master!"—"Kick him!"—"Stone him!"—"Beat him!"—"We'll have no humbug here."
And so poor Dandy was driven out from the woods, and forced to get his living by himself; while the knowing young bear that had exposed him, looked on and laughed at his misfortune. If Dandy had not been so boastful; if he had spoken the truth, and been modest,—he might have been respected by his fellow-bears to the end of his days.
DRAWING-LESSON BY HARRISON WEIR.VOL. XXI.—NO. 1.
A SQUEAK!
That lives in somebody's house,
And in that same house there's a cat;
But oh, ho! what care I for that?
She sits in the sunshine,
And licks her white paws,
With one eye on me,
And one on her claws.
How she watches the crack
Where she sees my brown back!
But she'll never catch me!
For oh, ho! don't you see
That I'm just the smartest young mouse
That lives anywhere in the house?
I'm only a little brown mouse
That lives in somebody's house,
And in that same house there is Rover:
He has chased me the whole house over.
And there, too, is fat Baby Tim;
But oh, ho! what care I for him?
When he sprawls on the carpet,
And bumps his pink nose,
I scamper around him,
And tickle his toes.
How he kicks and he crows!
For he knows, oh, he knows,
That I'm only a little brown mouse
That lives in his grandmother's house.
That lives in somebody's house;
And in that same house there's a clock,
That says, "Tick-a-tock, tick-a-tock!"
And I've not forgotten yet quite,
How once, on a very still night,
I was sitting just over the clock,
When it gave such a terrible knock,
With a whirring and whizzing,
And buzzing and fizzing,
That I tumbled headlong from my perch on the shelf,
And, scampering wildly, I crowded myself
Right under the door, through such a small crack,
That I scraped all the hairs off the top of my back.
Oh, I am the merriest mouse
That lives anywhere in a house!
I love toasted cheese, and I love crusts of bread,
And bits of old paper to make a soft bed.
Oh! I tell you it's nice
To be one of the mice,
And when the night comes,
And the folks are abed,
To rattle and race
On the floor overhead.
And, say, don't you wish you could run up a wall
As I do, every day, without getting a fall?
And don't you wish you were a mouse,
Living in somebody's house?
WHAT YOU DO, DO WELL.
"Why do you take such pains in cutting out these little figures?" asked Winifred of her brother Ernest.
"I will tell you why, sister," replied Ernest. "I take pains because my teacher tells me, that, if a thing is worth doing at all, it is worth doing well."
"Did he mean that we should try to do well even in trifles?" asked Winifred.
"Yes," answered Ernest, "because, as a great man once said, 'Perfection is no trifle.'"
Winifred sat looking at her brother, as, handling a pair of scissors, he carefully cut out figures of horses, dogs, pigs, and various other animals.
Three years afterward she remembered this conversation; for it happened at that time, that, her father having died, her widowed mother was left almost destitute with a family of seven children to support.
