The Nursery, May 1873, Vol. XIII.

That mother loves and kisses so;
Dearer they are than gold or lands:
Guess me the lilies,—baby's hands!

I know a rosebud fairer far
Than any buds of summer are;
Sweeter than sweet winds of the south:
Guess me the rosebud,—baby's mouth!

I've found a place where shines the sun:
Yes, long, long, after day is done;
Oh! how it loves to linger there:
Guess me the sunshine,—baby's hair!

There are two windows where I see
My own glad face peep out at me;
These windows beam like June's own skies:
Guess me the riddle,—baby's eyes!

    George Cooper.

PRINCE AND TIP

Prince is a small shaggy dog, of a light-brown color. Tip is also a small dog, but is black, and has short, smooth hair. They are very fond of each other, and frolic together like two kittens.

Prince is always making acquaintances. He has several places in the neighborhood where he makes himself at home. He is always welcome, and he knows it: so he comes and goes as he pleases. Even when his master ties him, he cannot be kept from visiting his friends.

It was for a long time a wonder to us how he got untied; but we kept watch one day, and found that Tip, with his paws and mouth, loosened the knot, so that Prince could slip his head out; and then the two dogs scampered off in great glee. Prince, or Pinny, as we call him, plays some funny tricks. When we tell him to shake hands, he stands up on his hind-feet, and gives first his right, and then his left paw.

Sometimes we say to him, "Now, Pinny, play sick." Then he lies down, droops his head, and puts on a woe-begone look. We run around him, saying, "Poor Pinny!" and he all the while seems to enjoy the joke. As soon as we say, "Up Pinny, all well," he jumps up, shakes himself, and gives a knowing look, which seems to say, "Didn't I do that well?"

When we tell him to play beggar, he sits up on his haunches, raises his fore-paws, and whines dolefully.

When we hear a noise, and say, "See if anybody's coming, Pinny!" he goes to the door, and listens: if any one is coming, he barks loudly; if not, he comes quietly back.

Sometimes the two dogs play horses. Their master takes a rope a few feet long, and ties one end around Pinny's neck, and the other around Tip's. Then, when the word is given, they set off and gallop up the road abreast, like two ponies. When their master whistles, they turn round, and come back.

Sometimes they are harnessed to a little wagon; and the children take turns in having a ride. The dogs seem to enjoy it as much as the children. They are impatient to start; but they wait for each other to be harnessed: they are not in quite such a hurry as the dog in the following picture.

    Gertie Adams.

MISTRESS MOUSE

Mistress Mouse
Built a house
In mamma's best bonnet.
All the cats
Were catching rats,
And didn't light upon it.

At last they found it,
And around it
Sat watching for the sinner;
When, strange to say,
She got away,
And so they lost their dinner.

THE NAPOLEON VIOLETS

There are three profiles of famous persons to be found among the outlines of this picture, which was drawn as long ago as the year 1815. One of the profiles is of Napoleon Bonaparte, a great soldier, who made himself emperor of France; another profile is of his wife, Marie Louise; and another of his son, Napoleon Francis Charles Joseph Bonaparte, styled King of Rome, and by his father proclaimed Emperor of the French, under the title of Napoleon II., in the year 1815, when he was only about four years old.

Owing to the defeats and disappointments of his father, the child Napoleon never actually became either King of Rome, or Emperor of France. He died in the year 1832, in Austria, where his grandfather was emperor.

Now, which of our readers will be able to discover the three portraits hidden in this symbolical bunch of violets?

"Oh, dear! What a big word is this! What does Uncle Charles mean by symbolical?" I fancy some of my little friends will exclaim. Well, then, a symbol is merely a sign, or mark, by which one knows a thing. When you see an umbrella in a man's hand, it is a symbol, or sign, that he expects a shower. So the profiles in this bunch of violets make it symbolical; that is, suggestive of a family group, who, it was hoped, would be renewed like the violets, and once more fill a large space in the history of France.

    Uncle Charles.

THE LIFE OF A SPARROW

BY HIMSELF

I am a very old sparrow, but not so old that I cannot still relish a cherry, a grape, or a nice fat worm. I am about to write a short history of my life, for the instruction of my children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

My parents, after having reared a numerous family, decided to seek a new home. One lovely day in spring, they came to a pretty village which pleased them, and alighted on a cherry-tree to consult together. "Here we will remain," said my father. "Look at the cherry-trees and the grape-vines. We have found the right place at last."

After looking carefully about for some time, they chose for their home a new house with a projecting roof, before which stood three large cherry-trees in full bloom. My mother, with the help of my father, built a nest high up under the roof of the house, and lined it with soft feathers. She laid four eggs, but hatched out only one little sparrow; and I was that lucky one.

My parents fed me constantly with tender worms; and it is no wonder that the feathers began to grow on my naked little body, or that my father soon thought me able to fly. So one fine day I stood on the edge of the nest, fluttered my wings, and flew out of my father's house. With many fears and a beating heart I at last alighted on an acacia-tree. While I sat there, I saw many large birds walking about, and also a cat, against whom my mother had already warned me; and, directly over my head, I heard the scream of a hawk.

In my fright, I cried out bitterly; but when the cat ran away, and the hawk flew into the woods near by, I grew calm again. My cry soon brought my mother to my side; and my father came, bringing a delicious worm to comfort me.

Before many days I was able take care of myself. About this time I met with an adventure. One day I saw several of my comrades fly in through an open window. Wishing to know what they found, I also flew in, and soon was as busy as any of them eating the grains of wheat with which the floor was covered. Suddenly the window was shut, and we were caught. A laughing boy put his hand over me, took me up, then cut my wings, and let me hop. He was very kind to me; but I longed for my liberty. Fortunately my wings soon grew; and one day, when the window stood open, I flew away, and found my mother again.

One sunny day in the autumn, my mother and I sat on a gate, eating some grains of wheat. A sly old cat who had hidden under a burdock which grew beside the gate, suddenly sprang up, and seized my dear mother with her sharp claws.

My mother was a very wise bird: so, instead of struggling to get away, she remained so quiet, that Mrs. Pussy soon thought she must be dead. Before long she put her down upon the grass, that she might admire at her leisure the nice fat sparrow she had caught for her dinner. All at once up flew my mother, and in an instant was far beyond the reach of the cat.

Now I thought I was old enough to have a family of my own. So I chose me a little sparrow-wife; but I had to fight several battles before I could conquer all my rivals. My bravery won her heart; and I think she has been well content with her choice. We built our nest, and soon I had the pleasure of seeing in it five bluish-white, brown-and-gray-dotted eggs, and, fourteen days after, five pretty sparrows,—three sons, and two daughters.

One saucy rogue, with a golden bill, we lost. Like me, he was caught; but he never regained his liberty. A friendly little maiden was his mistress, who made him so tame, that he would eat from her hand. She gave him so many dainties, that he became too fat, and died. I saw how the little maiden dug him a grave in her garden. Bitterly weeping, she placed him therein, covered him with earth, and planted a cross of flowers on the little mound.

Our other children, one after the other, founded homes of their own, and all lived good and useful sparrow-lives. The multitude of my grandchildren I am no longer able to count.

    From the German.

"The seed that springs, and the bird that sings,
And the shining summer sun,
The tiny bee, and the mighty sea,