E
LFRIDA is a little German girl who lives in Bonn. She has a brother in New York. He sent her, not long ago, a bound copy of "The Nursery." She was greatly pleased. She spent much time looking at the pictures. Then she said, "Oh, how I wish I could read the stories!"
"You have been saving up your money for some time," said her mother. "For what have you been saving it?"
"To buy one of those beautiful dolls that can walk without being touched: I do so long to have one!" said the little girl. "But why do you ask, mamma?"
"It was only a passing thought," said mamma.
"But I want to know your passing thought," said Elfrida.
"Well, dear, I thought that one-quarter of the money you will have to pay for a doll would buy you a nice English-German dictionary, by help of which you could learn to read those stories in 'The Nursery.'"
"Let me buy it at once, mamma!" cried Elfrida. "Dolls are nice; but I would rather have a dictionary. May I not go to the bookstore, and buy the book now?"
"Yes, dear: your choice is a wise one. You may go."
Elfrida ran up stairs, put on her cape and bonnet, ran out to the bookstore, and bought the book.
It was hard at first to find out the meaning of some of the words. But the stories were simple, and some of the words were so like the same words in German, that she did not have to look them out.
Little girl on the floor showing mother her book
One day she came running home from school, and said, "O mamma! a little American girl named Clara now comes to our school. She says she will teach me to read."
The little American girl kept her promise. First shewould give Elfrida a lesson in English, and then Elfrida would give her a lesson in German. And so they both grew to be nice little scholars. Elfrida would talk to Clara in English, and Clara would answer her in German. Soon they could each talk both languages quite well.
IDA FAY.
P
ARLEY-VOO" was the nickname of a little boy four years old, who was born in Paris. He did not come home until after he had learned to talk, and then he spoke French. So, when he went out to play with the other boys, they laughed at him, and called him "Parley-voo."
His aunt laughed at him too, sometimes. She was rathera queer aunt, and not at all like the aunts we read of in story-books. But his father was just the best father that anybody ever heard of.
They lived in Sunland, a little town not many miles from Boston; and every morning Parley-voo would hurry down to give his father a kiss before he went away to his business in the city. Then, when the train went by, he would stand at the window, and wave his little white handkerchief, and then his father would wave back at him, as if to say, "Good-by, once more, my dear little Parley-voo, good-by!"
But one morning he was so very sleepy, that he could not open his eyes when his nurse told him it was time to get up. He called the nurse abonne, as they do in Paris. He pushed her away, and went to sleep again, and the first thing he heard was the train going by with a "choo, choo, choo," and his father was gone without a kiss.
Then Parley-voo cried, and said it was hisbonne'sfault. He went to the window, and there he stood crying. He could not eat the nice breakfast that his nurse brought him, and would not let her dress him. So she went away, and shut the door, and left him to dress himself.
In his hurry he put on one red stocking and one blue one. His little kilt suit hung so high up in the closet, that he could not reach it: so he drew on an old faded dress a good deal too short, and it made him look just like a girl.
boy hugging his elderly aunt
In this rig he went down stairs, and his aunt laughed so that she almost cried when she saw him. That made him feel worse than ever, and he grew worse than ever. I am sorry to tell it; but he flew at her, and kicked her. His mother could not stop him, and his aunt had to run away.
But before long Parley-voo began to be sorry; for he was not a bad child, only thoughtless and wilful. And when his mother whispered to him to go and tell his aunt how sorryhe was, the little red and blue legs flew across the room, and up the stairs to find his aunt.
She sat in her room at her small table, and was taking a cup of tea. She did not look up when she heard him coming, and he hardly dared to go in. But he had a brave little heart; and calling out, "Aunty, I'm sorry," he ran up to her, and clasping her neck with his little loving arms, "I am very sorry, aunty," he said again. And they made it all up.
His aunt told him that she thought it would be a good plan to write to his papa, and tell him how it happened that his little boy was too late to kiss him good-by. Then she took out of her desk a sheet of paper; and Parley-voo, with his aunt's help, printed this letter:—
Dear Papa,—I did not see you, and I cried. Did you wave to me? I said it was thebonne'sfault, and I dressed myself. Aunt Tib laughed. I kicked her. I'm sorry. I sha'n't do it any more. Mamma sends love and three kisses. So do I. Aunt Tib sends her love too.Your loving littleParley-voo.
Dear Papa,—I did not see you, and I cried. Did you wave to me? I said it was thebonne'sfault, and I dressed myself. Aunt Tib laughed. I kicked her. I'm sorry. I sha'n't do it any more. Mamma sends love and three kisses. So do I. Aunt Tib sends her love too.
Your loving littleParley-voo.
After this, Parley-voo and his aunt Tib were the best of friends. It was a long time before he was too late again to say good-by to his father, or had any trouble with hisbonne.
ELIZABETH A. DAVIS.
Floral decoration
Music byT. Crampton.
Music: Winter
[Transcriber's Note: You can play this music (MIDI file) by clickinghereand a larger image of the music sheet may be seen by clicking on the image.]
1
'Tis snowing fast, hurrah! hurrah!Come o'er the hills away;Away we'll run for healthy fun,And in the snowdrifts play.Let me but pull my mittens on,I'll make the snowballs fly;If you look out the window, Nell,You'll see them whizzing by.
2
Papa thinks I'm not old enoughJust now to learn to skate;And mother says another yearWill not be long to wait.But famous forts I mean to build,And on the ice I'll slide;How swiftly o'er the glassy crustI shall securely glide.
3
Oh, glad am I the frost has come!What merry rides we'll take!We soon shall hear the jingling bellsTheir thrilling music make.I know that lovely summer bringsIts many fruits and joys;But then old frosty winter givesRare fun to lively boys.
Transcriber's Notes:Obvious punctuation errors repaired.The original text for the January issue had a table of contents that spanned six issues. This was divided amongst those issues.Additionally, only the January issue had a title page. This page was copied for the remaining five issues. Each issue had the number added on the title page after the Volume number.
Transcriber's Notes:Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
The original text for the January issue had a table of contents that spanned six issues. This was divided amongst those issues.
Additionally, only the January issue had a title page. This page was copied for the remaining five issues. Each issue had the number added on the title page after the Volume number.