The Nursery, May 1873, Vol. XIII.

"Hear, Jenny, dear Jenny, sweet Jenny Wren:
If you'll be my own wife,
I will love you through life;
We'll gather the moss,
Soft feathers, and floss;
And build us a nest,
The neatest and best,
And sing through the bright May mornings."

May blossoms, gay blossoms, curtained their nest:
Through the tiny mouse-hole,
Little Jenny she stole;
There, of no one afraid,
Ten fine eggs she laid,
While Timothy dear
Sang blithely and clear,
"How sweet are the bright May mornings!"

    George Bennett.

WHAT MAMIE DID

Mamie is a little girl five years old, with bright black eyes, and rosy red cheeks.

She is very fond of "The Nursery," as are a great many other Mamies.

Now, which Mamie is this story about? They are all wondering, but cannot tell certainly, till they have heard it read.

Well, one cold winter's day, this little Mamie came to her mother with a very urgent request. What do you suppose it was? To go out coasting? No.

To go to visit her little friend Nellie? No.

To take a sleigh-ride with her papa? Wrong again.

Ah! you can never guess, and I will tell you.

It was this: "O mamma! do put on my things, and let me go out and get exscribers for 'The Nursery.'"

Mamma shook her head; though she could not help laughing at the little girl's mistake, for she meant subscribers. It is a hard word; but this little Mamie knew the meaning well.

"O mamma! please do; for you know I love it. And Jennie and Katie and Bessie will love it too, if they only know about it; and, besides, I can get a present, if I send some new names to 'The Nursery' man."

Little Mamie was so urgent in her request, that her mother asked papa what he thought about it.

Papa said, "Oh, let her try if she wants to: it will do no harm." How the black eyes danced! and the little feet could hardly keep still, while mamma dressed her up very warmly, till she was just about as large one way as the other.

"Now, mamma, for my muff; and, oh! I must have a 'Nursery' to show." So, with a "Nursery" sticking out of one end of the little muff, this Mamie started on her errand. All the way along to Bessie's house, she kept saying, subscribe, subscribe, so that she might not make another mistake in the word.

She was gone but an hour, and returned with the names of six children, who were to be made glad each month by the visits of Mamie's friend.

Mamie was full of glee, and could hardly eat any supper, so anxious was she for her papa to send the names to Boston.

Well, they were all sent; and the six little friends have been made glad by receiving each a "Nursery" of her own; and next month they will be glad again, and so on for a whole year.

Did Mamie get a present? Oh, yes! She got a present from "The Nursery" man, which she values very highly.

Now, can you tell which little Mamie this is?

    Mary Myrtle.

SNIP'S STORY

My name is Snip. You can read it on my collar: though why my master put it there I can't tell; for everybody knows me, and almost everybody is my friend. People stop in the street to pat me; the little children love to have me play with them, because I never snarl and bite; and the butcher round the corner saves me a bone every day. I think butchers are very nice men.

Every morning I go down street to get the newspaper for my master. The bookseller always has it rolled up, waiting for me, and puts it in my mouth; and back I trot as fast as my legs will go. To-day I had a hard time of it; for, just as I got nicely started for home, some bad boys who were playing in the road saw me, and thought it would be fine fun to catch me, and take my paper away.

They ran after me, hooting and yelling; and I was so frightened, that I trembled all over. But I could run faster than they; and they soon gave up the chase. That was not the end, though; for one of them threw a stone after me, which hit me on one of my paws, and so I came home limping. But do you suppose I let the newspaper drop? Not a bit of it.

I have been barking at this door a long time; and yet nobody comes to open it. I wonder where my master is, that he doesn't hear me. Perhaps he is asleep. I am very hungry for my dinner; and I should like to get into the house, and lie down in my corner by the kitchen-fire.

I can push open the garden-gate with my nose; but this door won't move a bit when I put my paws on it. I wonder why dogs can't open doors as well as gates. I am going to bark again. Bow-wow-wow! There! Didn't you hear a footstep? Yes: there comes some one to let me in.

    H. B.

BABY IN HER HIGH CHAIR

Here I am all ready: here's my little plate
Wants some 'tato on it: papa, you'll be late.
Here's the milk a-waiting in my silver cup;
I'm so hungry! will somebody please to push me up.

Didn't see me, did you, scrambling up my chair?
Got up all alone too; would you think I'd dare?
Got my clothes all twisted; 'fraid I mussed my curls:
What did papa say about frowsy-headed girls?

Dear, I have such troubles! people are so slow!
Don't they want some supper, I should like to know?
There's a fly gone swimming in my silver cup;
And I can't quite reach him, 'cause I'm not pushed up.

Here's my mamma coming; here come Sue and Fred;
Now there goes the ding-dong, just as if it said,
"Little folks and big folks, time to come and sup!"
Thank you, papa, thank you, for pushing Bessie up.

    Helen Barron Bostwick.

THE BRINDLED COW