The Nursery, April 1873, Vol. XIII

Then he saw Jamie take off his skates, and lay them down on the ice, and go off on an errand for his mother.

All at once it popped into Tad's head to slip down the back-stairs, and out through the gate, and just see if he could not skate.

"I'm sure," said he, "it can't be so very hard: the boys do it so easy! What if I do tumble down a few times at first! I don't mind a little bump."

So he sped down the stairs, tied on his cap and scarf, tucked his mittens in his pocket, and was off for the ice.

"The skates are too long for me, but that is no matter. I know how to put them on. There! now they're on. Hurrah! here I g—! Oh!"

Down he sat, before he had hardly got upon his feet. He got a hard bump; and his bare hands rubbed upon the ice till they were so cold, that, if he hadn't made up his mind to be stout-hearted, he would have been glad to go in and warm them.

But he pulled out his mittens, saying, "I must get up slowly: that's the way the boys do." So he raised himself on his hands and knees first, planting one foot at a time firmly before trying to stand. But, as he was straightening up his back, somehow his heels slipped up; and this time it was his poor little head that rapped so smartly upon the treacherous ice.

Taddy lay still a minute, not feeling quite so hopeful about the next attempt; when he happened to see a little tree just a few steps off. So he crept quickly over to it, feeling sure now of success. Catching hold of it, he helped himself up to a firm stand, saying, "Now, I must put one foot out at a time, so,—and then the other. Oh! I can do it now."

So he tried again. One beautiful stroke, then another, and over he went again, flat on his nose! But this was not all. Such a crash as even his little body could make was too much for the ice, which happened to be rather thin around that friendly tree; and, by the time Taddy had picked himself up, he was above his knees in water. There was a terrible ache at his nose; and he put up his hand to warm it a minute, but was frightened to find his mittens all spotted with blood. This was too much for him. He sent forth a cry that would have made your heart ache.

Just then Jamie came back; and there he found poor Taddy standing in the water, holding out one hand, and looking at the bloody mitten through his tears, the other covering tightly his aching nose; while a big purple bump was rapidly appearing on his forehead.

"Halloo! what's going on?" shouted Jamie. Taddy's story was very humble; and kind-hearted Jamie carried him into the house, where his mother was just inquiring for him.

"I left my little boy to learn another kind of lesson," she said. "But perhaps the one he has taught himself will do as much good."

    M. L.

THE OLD CLOCK

ICK, tock! tick, tock!" That is what the old clock said. And the boy sat at a table near by, and leaned his head upon his hand, and put the end of the pen-holder in his mouth, instead of writing his theme on the "Flight of Time."

"Tick, tock! tick, tock!" said again the old clock; and then there was a little buzzing noise, and the old clock began to strike; and all at once a little door over the dial-plate opened, and there stood a little bird crying, "Cuckoo, cuckoo!" And over the bird, on the top of the clock, a little man started up in a red coat, with sabre and musket complete, and began to march backwards and forwards.

Henry did not look up to see the bird and the little man; for he wanted to be out in the garden at play with his sister, instead of trying to write a theme on the "Flight of Time."

At last Henry finished his theme in these words: "Time does not fly at all fast for me when I am trying to write a theme. On the contrary, it seems very long indeed. We ought to improve our time. We ought to work. Life is short. My theme is ended. And now, having written the required number of words, I will go out in the garden, and see if any peaches have fallen during the night."

So Henry ran out in the garden; and he and his sister had a good frolic among the flowers and the fruit-trees. Whether he got a good mark, the next day at school, for his theme on the "Flight of Time," I cannot tell you.

    Carl Heinsman.

IN THE MAPLE WOODS

In the early spring, when the snow melts, thousands of men in the Northern and Western States are busy making maple-sugar. If you have seen only the dirty-looking brown cakes of maple-sugar sold in many places, you know very little about it. I have seen it as white as snow, although it is generally brown. Then there is the nice sirup; and did you ever eat any maple-candy? Well, I will tell you a story.

Willy and his sisters lived in Vermont, where a great deal of maple-sugar is made. One spring, when their Cousin Leonard came to see them, they thought it would be fine fun to go to the maple woods, where the men had been making sugar, and try to make some candy. It was a bright day, not very cold, although some snow was still left upon the ground.

"Mother," said Willy, "may we go to the woods to-day, and make some maple-candy?"—"Yes," said his mother, "only be careful not to wet your feet."—"Oh! what a nice time we will have!" said the two girls; and they all clapped their hands for joy.

In a few minutes their mother had put them up a nice luncheon. Then they took a small kettle, two or three tin cups, three spoons, and a hatchet. These things they packed upon a hand-sled; and, when all was ready, they set out at a brisk pace through the fields, over the snow, the boys drawing the sled, and the girls following close behind.

There was a good path, and they soon came to the woods. On the edge of the woods was a hut, where the men rested sometimes while making sugar. The children thought they would play that was their house. Nobody was there that day: so they had it all to themselves.

A little way out of the woods were two large stakes with a pole across them, on which hung a large kettle. Some half-burnt logs and ashes were under the kettle, but the fire was all out. A pile of wood was not far off; and branches of trees, chips, and logs were scattered around.

The children gathered dry leaves and sticks, and made a fire in a safe place. The next thing to do was to get some sap to boil into candy. What is sap? It is the juice of a tree. When the warm spring sunshine melts the snow, the roots of the tree drink in the moisture of the earth. This goes up into the tree, and makes sap. The sap within the tree, and the sunshine without, make the buds swell, and the bright fresh leaves come out.

For making sugar the sap of the maple-tree is used. But how is the sap got from the trees? and how is it made into sugar? I will tell you. A hole is bored in each tree, a spout put in the hole, and a bucket is placed underneath. This is called "tapping the tree." The sap runs from the tree into the bucket, drop by drop, until it is full. Then the sap is boiled till it becomes sirup; and the sirup is boiled into sugar.

The children found that the sap was dropping from the spouts in the trees around them. Some of the buckets were nearly full. They soon gathered enough into their little tin cups to fill their kettle; and then they put it on the fire to boil.

While it was boiling, they thought they would eat their luncheon. What do you suppose they had besides bread? I will tell you. They had thin slices of raw meat. "But did they eat it raw?" perhaps you will ask. Oh, no! The boys whittled out some clean, pointed sticks, on which they held their meat close to the fire till it was roasted to a beautiful brown; and then you cannot think how good it tasted. After eating their bread and meat, they had some nice crullers and cheese to end off with.

Well, by and by the sap in the little kettle had boiled into sirup. Then the children brought some clean snow in their cups, and carefully dipped a spoonful of hot sirup into each cup. The snow cooled it at once, and turned it into clear, hard candy. I wish you could have had some of it to eat! I know they thought it was delicious.

Soon after they had eaten their candy, they put out the fire with snow, and went home, having had a very happy time; and they did not forget to take candy enough with them for mother and little sister, and all the rest of the family.

    Anna Holyoke.

WHERE IS THE BABY?

Oh! who has seen my baby?
Does anybody know
Where I can find my darling,
My precious little Joe?

The house is very lonesome;
No baby do I see:
Oh! if my missing treasure
Would but come back to me!

Ah! here is a young lady,
Just four years old to-day,
Who tells me that my darling
Is not so far away.

What! this great girl my baby?
Well, well, it must be so;
But, really, it's amazing
To see how babies grow.

    Kate Cameron.

THE BIRD'S RETURN

"Where have you been, little birdie,—
Where have you been so long?"

"Warbling in glee
Far o'er the sea,