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by Linda Cantoni.











THE

NURSERY


_A Monthly Magazine_


FOR YOUNGEST READERS.


VOLUME XXII.--No. 1.


          BOSTON:
          JOHN L. SHOREY, No. 36 BROMFIELD STREET,
          1877.




          Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by
          JOHN L. SHOREY,
          In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.


          FRANKLIN PRESS:
          RAND, AVERY, AND COMPANY,
          117 FRANKLIN STREET,
          BOSTON.





[Illustration: Contents.]


IN PROSE.

                                                PAGE
  Percy and the Oxen                               3
  Pet Rabbits                                      5
  Fourth of July Morning                           7
  A Fish Story                                    11
  Buttercup's Circus                              13
  At Sea                                          14
  Drawing-Lesson                                  17
  Solomon and the tame Bear                       18
  Sixth Lesson in Astronomy                       21
  Pictures for Mary                               25
  The Chamois                                     28


IN VERSE.

                                                PAGE
  The Wild Bees' Home                              1
  Chipping-Birds' Song                             6
  The little Deserter                              9
  At Dinner                                       20
  Teddy's Kitten                                  23
  The Garden Tools                                30
  What does little Birdie say? (_with music_)     32

[Illustration: A Merry Christmas to You]

[Illustration:

          WILD BEES OF THE WOOD ARE WE;
          BUT OUR HIVE YOU MUST NOT SEE.

VOL. XXII.--NO. 1.]




THE WILD BEES' HOME.


          WILD bees of the wood are we;
          But our hive you must not see:
          Here behold our happy home,
          Where we labor, where we roam.
          Brooks that on their shining bosoms
          Catch the overhanging blossoms;
          Banks all bright with clustering flowers,--
          Here is where we pass our hours.

          Seldom on this solitude
          Does a girl or boy intrude;
          Few among you are aware
          What a home is ours, so fair!
          In the brook are little fish;
          You would like them on a dish:
          Keep away, and bring no hooks
          To these happy, murmuring brooks.

          You would like to find our hoard
          Of honey-comb and honey stored;
          You would track us, if you could,
          Through the field, and through the wood,
          Till, within some hollow tree,
          You our waxen cells could see.
          But beware now what you do;
          Treat us well, and we'll treat you.

                                                DORA BURNSIDE.

[Illustration]




PERCY AND THE OXEN.


SUMMER came, and the city streets were dry, dusty, and noisy, and the
bricks made everybody's eyes ache.

So mamma took little Percy, who was only three years old, and the rosy,
fat one-year-old baby, and went away in the steam cars to the green,
fresh, cool, sunny country. Grandpa was left all alone in the still city
home, with good old 'Titia to keep house for him until the family should
come back in the fall.

Well, those who could go to the country had just as much fun as they
could wish for,--sitting out under the trees all the sunny days, and in
the barn, when the sun was too hot for them to want him to shine on
them.

One day, great-aunt Hannah was giving her nephews and nieces a dinner of
corn and beans, and apples and cream, and nice bread and butter, and
they all sat at the table a long time, talking and laughing, and
enjoying themselves.

All at once little mamma said, "Why, where's Percy?" and sprang up, and
ran to the side-door, which opened on to the green.

No Percy was to be seen there: so all began to hunt through the
sitting-room, even through the parlor (where he never played), out in
the kitchen, farther out through the long wood-shed, still farther out
in the carriage-house; but he was in none of these places.

Then great-aunt Hannah opened the cupboards, and pulled out the drawers,
as though she expected to find the "grand-boy" rolled up in a napkin,
and tucked away in a corner.

There was a high state of flutter when mamma peeped round the edge of
the open dining-room door, and said, "Come with me."

She was so smiling, that every one knew the search was up; and a row of
tall people and short people, headed by little mamma, and ended by tall
aunt Hannah, streamed out and over the green, across the road. There
they were stopped, and told by mamma to go softly and look in one of the
barn-windows.

What did they see? A good load of sweet-scented hay piled on a wide
hay-cart, two big oxen yoked to that, standing in the middle of the
barn-floor, with their two great heads held down very low.

In front of them was little chubby Percy, in his clean white frock,
swinging a tiny pail, that would hold a teaspoonful of berries, in one
hand, and with the other holding out a berry to the oxen, as they put
their great mouths down to be fed.

                                                   AUNT EMMIE.

[Illustration]




PET RABBITS.


MANY of my little readers have owned tame rabbits; but I doubt if they
ever had for a pet the little wild rabbit who lives in the woods, and,
at the South, builds his nest above ground.

On a warm, sunny afternoon in May, two little rabbits, whose mother had
been killed by a dog, were brought home in a gentleman's pocket, and
given