The Nursery, No. 109, January, 1876, Vol. XIX.

In the evening, the little ones play blind-man's-bluff, or hunt-the-slipper. Sometimes Jack Frost steals down from the North, and pinches them. But he does not stay long. He likes his northern home best.

    Uncle Harry.

CHRISTMAS AT THE SOUTH.

THE CHRISTMAS PRESENTS

Mr. D. had promised to give his wife a beautiful rattan rocking-chair as a Christmas present. It was his employment to sell these articles. In due time, Mrs. D. called at his place of business, and selected a chair; but, as she sat enjoying it for a few minutes, a new idea came into her mind, and she told her husband that she would gladly do without her present, if he would give Jennie and Alice (their two little daughters) each a chair.

Her husband agreed to this; and on Christmas Eve he took home with him two elegant little rocking-chairs. Leaving them in his garden, he went in to tea, and, after taking his seat at the table, said to his children, "I have a story to tell you, and it is a true story. Would you like to hear it?"

Of course they were all eager to do so. So he said, "There was a lady in my store to-day, whose husband had promised to make her a Christmas present of a rocking-chair. After she had selected a very nice one, she turned to her husband, and said, 'If you will give each of our children a chair, I will forego the pleasure of having mine.' Now, wasn't she truly kind?"

The children were much interested in the story; and both exclaimed, "Yes, sir!" Then he added, "I liked the lady very much."

Here, little Alice, growing slightly jealous, exclaimed, "Did you like her better than you do mamma?"

"Oh, no! not better, but full as well," answered her father.

After supper, the chairs were brought in, much to the surprise and delight of Jennie and Alice, who both joyfully exclaimed, "O papa! you meant us!"

    D.

THE PROPER TIME

"Will you play with me? Will you play with me?"
A little girl said to the birds on a tree.
"Oh, we have our nests to build," said they:
"There's a time for work, and a time for play."

Then, meeting a dog, she cried, "Halloo!
Come play with me, Jip, and do as I do."
Said he, "I must watch the orchard to-day:
There's a time for work, and a time for play."

A boy she saw; and to him she cried,
"Come, play with me, John, by the greenwood side."
"Oh, no!" said John, "I've my lesson to say:
There's a time for work, and a time for play."

Then thoughtful a while stood the little miss,
And said, "It is hard, on a day like this,
To go to work; but, from what they all say,
'Tis a time for work, and not for play."

So homeward she went, and took her book,
And first at the pictures began to look;
Then said, "I think I will study to-day:
There's a time for work, and a time for play."

    Emily Carter.

OUR DOG MILO

Milo was the name of a fine Spanish pointer. He had such an expressive face, such delicate ears, and such wise eyes, that you could not help looking at him.

And then he could stand up so cleverly on his hind-legs, dressed in his little red coat and cap! An old beggar-woman, whose eyesight was not very good, once took him for a boy, and thanked the "little man," as she called him, for a present which we boys had trained him to go through the form of offering.

He had belonged to a travelling company of jugglers and rope-dancers, by whom he had been taught various tricks, though he had been made to undergo much hard treatment. He could fire off a pistol, stand on guard as a sentinel, beat a drum, and serve as a horse for the monkeys of the show.

This last piece of work poor Milo did not at all like. The monkeys would scratch and plague him; and, if he resented it, he would be whipped. His worst enemy was a little monkey named Jocko, who delighted to torment him.

At last, we boys talked so much to our good papa about Milo, that he bought him of the jugglers. How happy we were when we got possession of him! Poor Milo seemed to be aware of our kind act. After that, it seemed as if he could not do too much to show his gratitude.

How patiently he would stand on his legs, or march with us in our mimic ranks as a soldier, when we went forth to battle! In all our plays we could not do without Milo. He would stand on guard beside our camp; and he it was who always had to fire the pistol when a deserter was to be shot.

Sometimes we would play going through the woods, where the Indians were likely to waylay us. Then Milo was our pathfinder. With his nice sense of smell he must find out where the cunning redskins were lying in wait.

There was no end to the uses to which we put the dear little dog in our plays. Never did he snarl, or lose his temper. He saw that we loved him; and he repaid our love by taking all the pains he could to please us.

But a dark time came for Milo and for us. A fright about mad dogs broke out in our town. A bad fellow said he had seen another dog, who was known to be mad, bite Milo. This was untrue; for Milo was at home at the time.

But all our prayers were of no use. We must bring Milo to the town-hall to have him shot. How we children wept and took on! Poor Milo, our dear little playmate! Must we lose him forever? We could not bear the thought.

The little dog himself saw that something was the matter, and whined at seeing us all so sad. All at once up started our eldest brother, Robert, and declared it should not be. He would rescue the little dog.

He did so without letting any one know of his plan. He took Milo, at night, in the cars, to the nearest great city. Here one of our cousins lived. Placing Milo in his charge, Robert came back; and when the town-officer came after the little dog, to kill him, he was told that Milo had stepped out, and, if the town-folks wanted him, they must find him.

In a few months, the outcry about mad dogs was hushed; and then we had Milo home again. What rejoicing there was! And how glad was Milo himself to get back, and greet all his little friends with barks and leaps!

    From the German.

THE THREE CALVES

My little friend Max was on a farm, a whole week last May, and he likes to talk of the good time he had there.

He says there were no less than three calves in the great field; and he used to watch them and feed them two or three times a day.

They grew to be so tame that they would let him come up and pat them on the back, and feel of their budding horns. He gave them each a name.

One he called Daisy; one, Pink; and one, Rose. He said if he had been with them three weeks, he should have taught them to know their names.

He hopes to see them again next May; but I think they will be good sized cows by that time, for they grow very fast.

    A. B. C.

"WHY?"