The Nursery, February 1881, Vol. XXIX A Monthly Magazine for Youngest Readers

FOR YOUNGEST READERS.

VOLUME XXIX.--No. 2.

BOSTON: THE NURSERY PUBLISHING COMPANY, NO. 36 BROMFIELD STREET. 1881.

Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1881, by THE NURSERY PUBLISHING COMPANY, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

& SON.

UNIVERSITY PRESS.]

IN PROSE.

PAGE Almost ready for Launching 33 Louis's new Plant 36 "One-old-cat" 39 What is the Horse doing? 40 Why wouldn't the Kite fly? 45 Drawing-Lesson 49 Bertie at his Uncle's 50 Rich and Poor 56 Red Coral Beads 58

IN VERSE.

PAGE The Would-be Travellers 37 A Queer Kitten 42 How Blue-Eyes watched for the New Year 43 The New-laid Egg 47 The Good Ship "Rosa Lee" 54 The Snow-Fairies 57 His Royal Highness 62 Nursery Song (with music) 64

VOL. XXIX.--NO. 2.]

ALMOST READY FOR LAUNCHING.

HERE we have a picture of a ship on the stocks, with a gang of men hard at work giving her the finishing touches. There are full twenty-six men in sight.

What are they doing? Well, most of them, I think, are calkers. Do you know what that means? I will tell you.

After the frame of a ship is set up, the timbers firmly bolted and braced, and the planking put on and fastened, inside and out, the next thing to be done is to make the seams water-tight.

For this purpose, slivers of oakum, rolled up in the hand, are driven into the seams between the planks. When the seams are filled, they are covered with melted pitch or rosin to preserve the oakum from decay. This process is called calking.

Most of the men seen in the picture are doing this work, but not all of them. Some are driving in the oakum with a tool called a calking-iron. Some are putting on the pitch. I will leave it for you to find out what the others are doing.

If we could look on deck and on the other side of the ship, we should see men at work there too. Hark! Don't you hear the sound of their hammers? All is bustle, but there is no confusion. Every man knows what to do, and does his work with a will.

After the calking is done, the painters will take their turn. They will put on two or three coats of paint; then the carvers and gilders will make a handsome figure-head; every thing will look as neat as a new pin; and then it will be time to be thinking of a name for the vessel, for, if I am not mistaken, the ship will be ready for launching. Let us fancy that we are present at the launch. I think I see her now gliding into the deep water that awaits her.

She floats away from her cradle. She sits like a duck upon the water. She is staunch and strong and tight. So far the work has been well done. What comes next?

The riggers will now take her in hand. Masts and yards and shrouds and sails will soon be in their places. Soon we shall see her in the harbor all ready for sea; and by and by, with sails all set and streamers all afloat, she will move gracefully down the bay. May she always have fair winds and prosperous voyages!

UNCLE CHARLES.

LOUIS'S NEW PLANT.

LOUIS moved to a new home last spring, and, to his delight, had the use of a plot of ground for a garden. Beans, morning-glories, and other common plants, edged the little space; but his mamma planned to have some new thing in the centre.

So they planted three or four peanuts. Louis expected to raise peanuts enough for the whole neighborhood; and one lady to whom he mentioned it engaged a bushel on the spot.

In due time a little plant appeared, carrying one of the nuts on its head; but, finding that too much of a load, it left the parent nut on the surface of the ground, and sent bright green leaves up, and little threads of roots down, until, with its sisters, which had been growing in the same way, it made a group of three pretty plants.

All summer Louis took pride in showing them. Although they grew so finely, many persons prophesied that they would never bear nuts. But, in the latter part of September, Louis dug from one of his plants a nut which was perfect in form, though not yet divided into shell and meat. It was like a raw potato.

He waited patiently, and early in November he dug a saucer-full of well-ripened nuts. The plants had sent out a shoot from each joint, and these grew downward into the ground, and at the end of each shoot grew a nut. So Louis thinks it is correct to call it a ground-nut.

Louis took a sample of the nuts to "The Nursery" office, and it was pronounced to be of good quality. Although he could not supply the order for a bushel, he intends to try again next year, and hopes to raise a larger crop.

AUBURNDALE, MASS. LOUIS'S MAMMA.

THE WOULD-BE TRAVELLERS.

ARTHUR.

OH, if I only had a pair Of Indian snow-shoes I could wear, The storms might beat, the winds might blow, Across the drifts I'd northward go, And see the Northland's splendid sights,-- The red, and green, and yellow lights, That up the sky at night-time stream, The icebergs on the sea that gleam, And, peering from his hut of snow, In walrus-coat, the Esquimau; And with my loud hurrah I'd scare From out his den the grizzly bear.

BERTHA.

And, if I only had a boat, I'd spread my sail, and eastward float, And see the far-off Eastern lands, The palm-trees, and the desert sands, The camels and the caravans; Tall shining towers, and curious towns, And men with turbans on, and gowns; And bring home, lovely to behold, A charming dress of cloth-of-gold.

DICK.

And, if I only had a horse, I'd westward, westward take my course; With flying feet and floating mane He'd gallop with me o'er the plain; As lightly as the wind we'd pass Across the waving prairie-grass, And strange, tall blossoms, blue and red, Would nod about my horse's head.

ELSIE.

And, if I had some wings to fly, I'd southward soar along the sky, And see the Southland all aglow With roses, when with us there's snow; And flutter down to rest me, where The starry myrtle scents the air, And humming-birds dart out and in The blossoms of the jessamine; Where his green mate the parrot calls, And oranges, like golden balls, Hang on the boughs, I'd spend the hours In gathering figs, and plucking flowers.

LITTLE SUSY.