قراءة كتاب The Nursery, May 1881, Vol. XXIX A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers
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The Nursery, May 1881, Vol. XXIX A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers
out of this pond, and let my ducklings alone."
"Do you hear that, Carlo?" said Jane. "Now don't stop to answer, but come with me like a good dog, and we will have a run in the woods."
And then Carlo gave up his chase of the ducks, and went quietly where Jane led him.
THE NAUGHTY CAT.
LITTLE JACK.
Old Tab, that's owned by aunty Gray:
She growls, and spits, and shows her claws,
As sharp as needles in her paws;
She always seems so full of spite,
She's sure to scratch me, or to bite.
My hands,—they were a frightful sight
When I came home last Saturday;
I'm sure that she would be no loss,
If she were killed, she is so cross;
Now, when I see her, "Scat, scat, scat!"
I mean to say, "you naughty cat!"
LITTLE JANE.
I'm sure she's very good with me;
For, when I go to aunty Gray's,
She always close beside me stays.
If I sit down, she climbs my knee,
And rubs her head against my cheek,
And acts as though she'd like to speak,
And say she wants my friend to be.
I'd rather have her for my own
Than all the cats I've ever known:
Black, yellow, Maltese, large and small,
Old Tab's the nicest of them all.
JAMES.
When you have been at aunty Gray's,
She's proved you both, and learned your ways:
She finds that Jack would never fail
To try and swing her by the tail,
While Jane will softly stroke her fur;
So she will answer by a purr,
To show Jane's gentle touch she likes,
But Jack, with her sharp claws, she strikes.
My mother says we ought to treat
With love each living thing we meet,
And even pussy-cats can tell
Who are the ones that use them well.
PICKING ORANGES.
ILLY and Ben are two little boys who live in the old city of Saint Augustine. They do not have sleigh-rides and coasts; for Saint Augustine is way down South, in Florida, where snow never falls.
But, while the boys and girls in the North are wearing mittens and tippets and thick coats when they go out to play, Willy and Ben are running about bare-headed in the orange-groves, or plucking roses from the garden.
All around the house are orange-trees, and in among the glossy green leaves hang the great yellow juicy oranges. The fruit is ripe early in December, and ready to be picked.
Miles, the colored man, takes his big clippers and goes up the high step-ladder which he has placed near the tree. He cuts each orange from the branch, taking care not to get hurt by the long, sharp thorns.
Willy stands at the foot of the ladder, ready to catch the oranges as Miles tosses them down. Sometimes they pick five or six baskets in an afternoon. Miles says Willy is a "bery good catch." He sometimes tires of catching them; but he never tires of eating them.
I looked into the packing-room this morning, and there lay seventeen hundred yellow balls. Papa lets both his little boys help wrap the oranges. Each orange is wrapped in a piece of tissue-paper that is cut just the right size. Willy always says as he begins, "Now let's see who'll beat!" Do you know what he means?
Ben cannot wrap oranges as fast as Willy; but, as they are wrapped, he hands them to papa to pack in boxes. He can read the word "Boston" that papa writes in black letters on the outside of the boxes.
Of course papa pays his workers, and they take their money all to mamma to keep for them. They have so much whispering to do about it, that I think they are saving it to buy holiday gifts.
THE MAY-QUEEN."When I was little," said grandma Gray,
"We used to welcome the month of May With a song and a dance on the village green, Choosing and crowning our May-day queen. We used to choose of the prettiest girls, The one who had the sunniest curls, The one who had the merriest eyes, As clear and bright as the May-day skies. "We made her throne of the daisies white, And of yellow buttercups, golden bright, And we twined gay blossoms about the hair Of our dear little queen so sweet and fair." So grandma said, and the children heard, And a loving thought in each heart was stirred; And they whispered together, and laughed in glee, "Dear grandmamma shall our May-queen be!" |
And the cushioned footstool for grandma's feet,
And led her merrily to the throne,
And crowned her queen of their hearts alone.
They twined the daisies and buttercups bright
In the queen's soft hair so silvery white,
And better than jewels or necklace rare,
Were the clasping arms of those children fair.
And the bees and butterflies hovered around;
And the sunbeams danced all over the ground;
And the birds sang merrily in the trees;
And the breath of summer was in the breeze;
And the delicate hue of the azure skies
Seemed to lend new light to the loving eyes
Of happy, dear old grandmamma Gray,
Crowned by the children their "Queen of May."
