The Nursery, August 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 2

DEAR LITTLE MARY

Dear little Mary,
Susan and Loo,
Jenny and Lizzie,
And Margaret too;
Now the sun's peeping,
Softly and sly,
In at the window,
Pets, where you lie!

Up, up, my darlings,
Up and away!
Out to the meadows
Sweet with new hay;
Out where the berries,
Dewy and red,
Hang in great clusters,
High overhead!

Out where the golden-rod
Bends on its stalk,
And the wild roses
Gladden our walk;
Where amid bushes
Hidden but heard,
Joyous and grateful
Sings many a bird.

Out where the waters,
Merry and sweet,
Ripple and tinkle
Close by your feet;
Where all things happy,
Fragrant, and fair,
In the bright morning
Welcome you there!

    Mathias Barb.

A JOURNEY TO CALIFORNIA

Two little girls, Annette and Lisette, went to California with their parents in 1849. There was no Pacific Railroad at that time; and the journey across the plains was a long and a hard one.

Annette and Lisette rode in the great wagon drawn by oxen. They thought that fine fun. At night they slept in a tent. On pleasant days they walked with their mamma for miles over the green prairies, plucking wild-flowers as they went along.

They saw great numbers of the funny little prairie-dogs sitting in the doors of their cunning houses; sometimes they caught sight of an antelope; and they often passed great herds of shaggy buffaloes.

They liked the prairie-dogs and the antelopes; but they were afraid of the buffaloes; and, when their papa went out to shoot one, they would almost cry for fear he would get hurt. But, when he came back with plenty of nice buffalo-meat, they had a real feast; for they had had no meat but salt-pork for many a day, and they did not like that very well.

Sometimes a storm would come up with fearful peals of thunder, and flashes of lightning. More than once the tent was blown down, and the rain came pouring on them; but the little girls put their heads under the bed-clothes, and crept close to their mamma, and never minded the storm.

After travelling in this way three or four months, they were still many, many days' journey away from California, and Annette and Lisette began to wish themselves back in their old home; for now the plains were no longer green and bright with flowers, but hot, sandy, and dusty, with only ugly little bushes, called "sage-bushes," growing on them.

Sometimes they would have to go all day without water; for the water was so warm and impure, that nobody could drink it,—not even the cattle. They saw several hot springs, so hot that they could not put their hands in them; but their mamma found them very nice for washing clothes.

Late in the fall they crossed the Sierra Nevada Mountains; and, oh! how steep and narrow and rough the road was! Often their papa had to fasten logs of wood to the wagons to keep them from going down the mountains too fast. Sometimes a wagon would upset, and go rolling down hill.

Yet the children enjoyed being in the mountains; for they liked to play under the tall pine-trees, picking up the cones, and hunting for lumps of pine-gum, and hearing all the time the sweet music of the wind as it sang in the branches.

But in a few days the weather got very cold. Heavy snow-storms came on. One night twenty head of cattle were frozen to death; and as there were few oxen left, and the flour was almost gone, the little girls began to be very much afraid that they should perish too.

Luckily their papa shot some fat deer, which gave them plenty to eat; and, after many hardships, the whole party reached the Sacramento River in safety. Here they got on board of a flat-boat, and went to Sacramento City, where they lived in a tent for many months. I may some time tell you how they went to the mines.

A journey to California is a very easy matter now-a-days. You may go by railroad all the way, and have every comfort by day and night.

Annette and Lisette have made the journey more than once in a palace car; but they often think of the times when they were two happy little girls riding over the prairies in a baggage-wagon, or playing together under the mountain pines.

    A. F.

Salt-Lake City, Utah.

A LETTER TO GEORGE

Dear George,—I wish you were with me now on my farm. We are having nice times. There is a little colt here that follows me all about. He does this because I give him apples. But I think he is more fond of the apples than of me.

One day I had nothing to give him; and this made him feel very cross. He put back his ears, and kicked up his heels, and scared the chickens almost to death.

There are ten little chickens. One of them was sick; but it has got better. One of them was running along the other day, and caught his foot in a string; the string caught on a bush, and held him fast; and there he was standing on one leg and struggling until I pulled the string off.

William and Jane are going down to Mr. Walker's to get a basket of apples. Come and see me, and I will give you some; and you shall make friends with the colt.

    W. O. C.

THE BLACKBERRY FROLIC

"Why, where are you going, Nelly?" asked Martin Ray of his sister, as, with a plate of pudding for him, she entered his chamber where he was confined to his bed.

Poor Martin had broken his leg by a fall from a tree, and he had to keep very still.

"We have made up a blackberry-party," said Nelly. "The girls and boys are waiting for me at the door; and I can only stop a minute to say that you must be good, and not fret while I am away."

"Don't be late in returning home," said Martin; "for mother is going to take me down stairs for the first time, this afternoon; and I want to see you before I go up to bed."

"All the sweetest berries I can find shall be saved for you," said Nelly, as she tied the little scarf about her neck, put on her hat, and kissed Martin for good-by.

Nelly's companions were waiting impatiently for her at the door; and, when she came, they raised a shout of "Here she is!" Then they set off, through a shady lane, on their walk to Squire Atherton's woods, along the borders of which the blackberries grew in great profusion.

Soon they came to a place where a brook crossed between two fields, with such a narrow plank for a bridge that some of the girls did not half like going over it; for the brook seemed to be quite full and deep.