The present number begins the eighteenth half-yearly volume of "The Nursery;" and we are happy to inform our friends that the magazine was never so successful as it is to-day. Thus far, we have entered upon every new volume with an increased circulation. We look for a still larger increase in the future; for there are thousands and thousands of children not yet supplied with the work, for whom no other magazine can take its place. We have something in preparation for coming numbers which will make the eyes of our little readers sparkle with delight. Now is the time for canvassers to go to work with a will.

The illustration by Merrill of the "Three Little Culprits" who were kept after school to study their spelling-lesson, is one of those happy touches of nature that every one can appreciate. The poem by Miss Wadsworth is worthy of the picture.

Children who are trying to learn to draw, will be pleased with the beautiful subject in our present number. By giving half-an-hour a day to drawing now, they will acquire a facility and a skill that will not only be of service to them, but a great pleasure to them, all their lives.

If parents or teachers would like to know of two books by the use of which teaching may be made a pleasure instead of a task to children, they cannot do better than order "The Easy Book" and "The Beautiful Book;" the former containing pieces in prose, and the latter, pieces in verse, and both of them richly and copiously illustrated with appropriate pictures. These books are published at "The Nursery" office by John L. Shorey.

Children who enjoy making paper dolls, will find an advertisement at the end of this number which is worthy of attention.

unny was a little rabbit, the youngest of a large family. His home was in an old wood, where the trees were very high, and wild-flowers grew in great abundance. His mother had given him to understand that he must not stray away from her, lest he should get lost, and not be able to find her.

But Bunny, like some young children, was self-willed. He thought his mother was over-careful; and so, [2] one day, when nobody was watching him, he slipped away from her, and sat down amid the grass, under two high beech-trees.

He heard his mother calling him, but took no notice of her call. It was a warm summer day, and he fell asleep. Soon he was startled by the loud barking of dogs. He woke up, and, oh, how frightened he was!

Luckily for him, the dogs did not come where he lay crouching; for their masters were shooting birds, not rabbits. Bunny thought the best thing he could do now was to scamper back to his mother, his brothers and sisters as fast as he could.

But it was not quite so easy to find them again. No sooner had he got into the open path than a troop of boys caught sight of him; and at once there was a volley of stones from their hands. By rare good luck he was not hit by the stones. But he had not gone many paces farther, when a man with a gun shot at him. Happily the man missed his aim, and the shot went into some bushes.

Having escaped this new danger, Bunny leaped swiftly over the high grass, till he came to the fallen trunk of a tree. Here he hoped to find his mother; but, ah! there was no trace of her to be seen. Night came on; and poor Bunny had to lie down all alone and go to sleep.

The next morning it rained heavily; and Bunny crept into the hollow trunk of the tree, where he could keep warm and dry. But before noon the sun came out beautifully; and the little rabbit, being very hungry, ran out.

The first thing he saw was his mother and the rest of the family eating their dinner. Oh, how glad he was! His mother did not scold him, but gave him plenty to eat; and he made up his mind, that he never would run away again from so good a mother.

Aunt Emma's Niece.

A TUG EXCURSION.

It was just after dinner when papa said, "Put on your hats quickly, and we will go down to the dock, and perhaps we shall find a tug going out."

Ralph had something beside his hat to put on; for, contrary to mamma's orders, he had taken off his shoes and stockings. But, with good Maggie's help, that wrong was speedily righted, and we were soon on our way to the dock.

There we found the stanch tug "Williams" just ready to leave. We jumped on board. The ropes were cast off; and a few turns of the wheel took us out on the broad expanse of Lake Michigan.

How delighted we all were with the beautiful picture there spread out before us!—the broad blue waters, dotted here and there with white sails; far away to the right, the smoke[4] arising from a huge steamer on her way from Chicago to Buffalo; and away, away, straight ahead of us, two white specks, which Captain Charley told us were the vessels he was going out for.

A look through the glass proved that the "specks" were really vessels, and huge ones too. While we were looking and talking, what do you suppose one of the men brought forward for Ralph's amusement?—A dog? No. A kitty? No. A parrot? No. I think you will have to give it up. A bear! Just the cunningest little bear any one ever saw.

He was just about the size of a tan-terrier, and so full of play, that he got himself into all sorts of shapes, and performed all the antics imaginable. But the most laughable thing was to see him as a tight-rope performer. I am sure he outdid any circus actor who ever travelled.

Ralph thought it jolly to play with a live bear. As one would suppose, the bear was a great pet with all on board the tug. He had always been handled with kindness; and the captain told us he had never yet bitten any one.

All this time, we are nearing the vessels we are to tow back. See what a huge cable is thrown out to join the vessels to the tug. Here we go, homeward bound.

We must not forget to tell of the nice race we had with the steam barge "Reitz," and how Ralph shouted when we came out ahead; nor about Ralph's getting hungry, and going down into the cabin, and making friends with the cook, and coming up with his pockets full of crackers and cookies, which were so much better than any he ever ate before.

Don't you think just as we do, that we had a jolly time? Ralph says he should like to live on board the tug; but I think he would want to come home every night.

TIT, TAT, TOE!

Tit, tat, toe!
Three in a row!
The heavy schoolroom clock strikes loud and slow.
"Now every little one
May go and take his fun,"
The gentle teacher cries, "for the school is done."

Tit, tat, toe!
All in a row!
Out through the open door the merry children go,
Leaving only three,
Sad as sad can be,—
Wretched little culprits with their Spellers, as you see!

[6] Tit, tat, toe!
Three in a row!—
Billy Bumble, Benny Bell, and little Kitty Coe.
Little Kitty sighs;
Little Benny cries;
And little Billy Bumble pokes his fingers in his eyes.

Tit, tat, toe!
Three in a row!
That's the game they played upon their slate, you know:
The 0's were made by Kate;
The crosses, by her mate;
While Billy kept the tally at the bottom of the slate.

When their class was heard,
They couldn't spell a word:
They put an "i" in burly, and they put a "u" in bird!
So, according to the rule,
They must study after school,
Or by and by they'll have to sit upon the dunce's stool.

Tit, tat, toe!
Three in a row!
The teacher's pencil taps on the desk broad and low.
"Now come," she says, "and spell;
I'm sure you'll do it well;
By the brightening of your faces, I readily can tell."

Tit, tat, toe!
Three in a row!
Straight to the teacher's desk the willing children go:
They say their lesson o'er,
Not missing as before,
Then fly away, determined to be idle never more.

[7] Tit, tat, toe!
Three in a row!
Is a fascinating pastime the little people know;
But oh! it never pays
To walk in folly's ways;
For pleasure quickly passes, while pain much longer stays.

Olive A. Wadsworth.

THE KEEPER PUNISHED.

Elephants, when kindly treated, become very much attached to their keepers, and will obey their orders as readily as good children obey their parents.

But sometimes the keepers are cruel men, and, instead of managing the elephants by kindness, will goad them, and treat them badly.

One day a new keeper was set over an elephant named Tippoo, that had been accustomed to good treatment. This new keeper, if he had been wise, would have won the elephant's love by kindness.

Instead of that, the man kept thrusting his goad at the elephant, and hurting him without any good cause. Tippoo bore it patiently for some time; but at last, with his great trunk seizing his tormentor, he ran with him down to the river that was near by.

Here, after ducking the man several times in the water, he laid him down gently on the dry ground, as much as to say, "Now, sir, behave yourself, and treat me like a gentleman, or I will give you a worse ducking than that."

Finding that Tippoo was not to be trifled with, the man began to treat him well, and the elephant soon forgave him, and at last grew quite fond of him. Love wins love.

NEDDY'S SAND-BANK.

On lovely summer afternoons, when the sky is blue, and the sea bluer, I take my books or work, and go out to sit under a great oak-tree that stands at the top of a sand-bank, which slopes gently down to a broad, white, beach.

This sand-bank is a wonderful place for the children. Every fine day Neddy takes his box of playthings, and marches off to the sand-bank; and I think, as I kiss his dear rosy cheeks, what a nice, clean boy he is in his linen blouse, broad-brimmed hat with blue ribbons, white stockings, and neat buttoned boots. He returns after a few hours, looking like a little savage.

What do they play on the sand-bank? I will tell you what they did yesterday, while I sat under the oak-tree and worked, and listened to their prattle.

"Let's build cities to-day," said Tommy Abbott. "Oh, yes!" said Jamie Newton. "I will build Boston," chimed in Neddy: "I don't know much about other places." After each had selected a city to build, they were silent for some time.

[10]But by and by Neddy looked up, and called to me, "Oh, do come down here, mamma, and see my Boston!" So I climbed down the bank to visit his city. He had scooped a hole in the sand, lined it with clay, filled it with sea-water, and stocked it with his shining tin fish. Of course I knew at once this was the pond on Boston Common.

Jamie Newton, who studies geography, and knows all about great cities everywhere, made a model Philadelphia, with its long, wide streets. Jamie's streets were so clean, and so beautifully shaded with sprigs of evergreen, that Mary Whitman said her grandest doll, Arabella Rosetta, should take a nice ride through them. So Rosetta was set[11] up in her carriage, and one tucked the crimson afghan about her dainty feet, while another opened her very best sky-blue parasol, (for Rosetta is particular about her complexion), and Mary put on her hat with the blue plumes, and pink roses, smoothed down her flounces, and said, "Be a good girl, Rosy. Don't stay out after dark, for the dew will spoil your clothes."

By and by it grew late. The sun sank down into the sea; while the moon, broad and full, rose from behind the hill; and I said, "Come, Neddy, we must run home to tea."

But Tommy Abbott, who had built a most wonderful Chicago, begged for a match to burn his city with. So the children gathered a heap of sticks and dry leaves; and Tommy set fire to the pile, and up and away flamed the beautiful city. Then we all went up to the hotel together,[12] and very soon tea was ready; and it was a wonderful thing to see how the children disposed of bread and milk, baked sweet apples, and gingerbread.

After we went up to our room, I wrote this story, and read it to Neddy. How his eyes sparkled with delight! "It's just as true as I live, every word of it," he said as I finished.

"But, mamma, you forgot little Rose Ellsworth's town. She made a real hill, and covered it with grass, and dotted it all over with violets; and Daisy lent her a cow from her 'Noah's Ark;' and we made it stand up under a tree, and, if it had only whisked its tail, it would have looked almost alive.

"I think, mamma," he continued, "that Rose is the nicest little girl here. I've painted her picture in my album."[13]

So I was not surprised, while looking over Neddy's pictures, to see that he had wasted a great deal of paint in trying to display Rose's pink cheeks and lovely golden hair: He had painted her cheeks redder than the reddest cherries you ever saw.

SURF-BATHING AT CONEY ISLAND.

Coney Island, about eight miles from the city of New York, is four and a half miles long and about half a mile in width. It is quite a resort in summer for those who want to breathe the briny air of the ocean.

Charles and Laura had long been promised a visit to this famous bathing-place, and one warm day in June their father drove them down to the island; for there is a bridge connecting it with the main land.

As they drove along the beach, they saw the bathers in[14] the water, and Charles was very desirous of having a dip in the salt sea himself; but he had no bathing-dress, and so he had to give it up.

It is very pleasant on a fine day in summer to stand on the beach, and watch the waves as they come foaming up. The children were much entertained at seeing a Newfoundland dog rush into the water after a stick which his master would throw far out.

They will long remember their pleasant visit to Coney Island; but the next time they go, they mean to take their bathing-dresses and have a swim.

A FUNNY FACT.

Taddy Pole and Polly Wogg
Lived together in a bog:
Here you see the very pool
Where they went to swimming-school.

By and by (it's true, but strange)
O'er them came a wondrous change:
Here you have them on a log,
Each a most decided frog.

M. A. C.

AN EXCITING SCENE.

Early last spring, Mistress Jenny Wren took possession of the little box nailed to a tree immediately in front of Mr. Philip's house. She had not really moved in, when who should peep in but Mr. English-Sparrow.

He was abroad house hunting, and never mistrusted that any one had got this house before him. He was thinking how well it would suit himself and mate, when whir-r-r-r! whir-r-r-r! up came Mrs. Jenny; and before he could offer a word of excuse, she began with, "Fie, fie! I took you for a gentleman! What business have you here?"

[16] "My dear madam," began Mr. Sparrow; but Jenny would not hear him. "Out, out with you, you saucebox, you interloper!" she screamed; and she dashed at him and pecked him till he beat a speedy retreat.

The next day, however, he came round again; whether to express his regrets in due form, or to buy her off, I cannot say; but Mrs. Jenny was unwilling to accept anything but the most humble apology.

One look convinced her that he didn't want her pardon, but her house; and out she flew at his very eyes, and on she chased as far as Mr. Philip, who was sitting at the window, could see. But Mr. Sparrow was seen no more.

I knew Jenny Wren was spirited; but I should hardly have thought that of her; should you!

"MAKE A PIE."

The summer before our Mary was two years old, she and her brother used to make pies in the sand, cutting them out with the cover of a little tin pail, always using water to mix them, if they could obtain it.

"Little drops of water, little grains of sand,
Make the mighty ocean, and the pleasant land."

"Little drops of water, little grains of sand,
Make a pie."

"No, make a pie," said Mary; and she could not be induced to say it right till months afterwards.

From Sir Edwin Landseer's painting. In outline
by Mr. Harrison Weir,
as a drawing lesson. VOL. XVIII.—No. 1

A BIG DOG.

I am a big dog, and my name is Bouncer. I want to tell you, little boys and girls, how I spend my time all the day long. In the morning I am always the first one awake: I take a walk around the house, and see if every thing is right; then, perhaps, I am let into the house. I look from one to another to see if all the family are at home; and I am much pleased when somebody has a good word for me, or when I get a pull from the baby's hand.

For breakfast, the kitten and I have the leavings from the table; but there never is half enough for both of us: so I let her clean out the platter, while I run to see my master off. When I get as far as the gate, he says, "Go back!" I sit down and watch him till he is out of sight.

Then there comes the milkman. I know him well; for he comes every morning and fills the can, and I watch it until it is taken in. Perhaps, when the door is open, a bone is thrown out to me. I hide it, quickly; for I see another dog coming. He is a friend of mine. He comes quite often to see me. We take a run around the house, and have a quiet talk together; then he takes himself off.

By that time I hear a team coming. I run to see if it is coming to the house. It is a man with a load of coal. I lie down and watch him. Perhaps I take a nap; but I sleep with one eye open; and if it is warm, and the flies trouble me, I have to switch my tail to keep them off.

Toward night, I station myself at the gate to watch for my master. I run to meet him. He pats me on the head, and says, "Good Bouncer!" I jump up and wag my tail, and try to let him know how glad I am to see him.

THE YOUNG CRITIC.

Ernest is five years old; and for three years he has been a subscriber to "The Nursery," the pictures in which he has enjoyed very much.

Last autumn, his parents took him with them to France. In the great city of Paris, they had rooms in a boarding-house, where they made the acquaintance of a young American painter, who had a studio in the building.

Ernest was such a quiet little fellow, and was so fond of pictures, that Mr. Norton, the artist, was always glad to see him in his studio; for Ernest did not trouble him, but would stand looking at the pictures for a quarter of an hour at a time.

One day, as he stood admiring a painting in which some horses were represented, he noticed a fault; for Ernest was a judge of horses: he was himself the owner of one—made of wood. "Look here, Mr. Norton," said he, "isn't one of the hind-legs of this horse longer than the other?"

Mr. Norton left his easel, and came and told Ernest to point out in the painting what fault he meant. The little fellow did so; and the painter exclaimed, "Why, you little chip of a critic, you are right as sure as I'm alive! We must make a painter of you."

Ernest is not quite old enough yet to decide whether he will make a painter or a confectioner. The sight of the beautiful candies and cakes which he has seen in some of the shops, inclines him to the belief that a confectioner's lot is the more enviable one. He thinks it must be a charming occupation to make molasses-candy, and be able to eat as much as he wants. He must live and learn.

JACK.

Jack was not a handsome dog. His best friends could not call him a beauty; but as he was a very wise, good dog, we were all very fond of him.

One afternoon, some of the younger members of the family were sitting on the piazza, waiting for papa, who was expected home on the five-o'clock train. Jack was lying beside them.

At last, the whistle sounded in the distance; and the little four-year-old "flower of the family" said, "Run, Jack, to meet papa at the station." Jack looked up, listened intently for a moment, and then lay down again with a sigh of disappointment.

"Oh, what a lazy fellow!" said six-year-old Annie. "If mamma would only trust us to go to the station, we would[26] not wait, or play sleepy." But the train passed on, and papa had not come.

In a little while, another whistle sounded; and this time, without a word of command, Jack sprung off the steps, dashed down the street, and returned in a few moments, escorting his master.

How did Jack know that the time-table had been changed that day, and a freight-train had taken the place of his master's train?

Another time, an uncle, who was visiting the family, had occasion to stay in town until the last train. Jack refused to be shut up, and, at eleven o'clock at night, went in the dark to the station, and escorted our guest up to the house.

How did he know what train to meet? and what instinct impelled him to do his part towards keeping up the courtesy of the family?

A LETTER FROM CALIFORNIA.

Here we are in Santa Cruz, in a hotel right on the beach. We had such a lovely stage-ride over the mountains, and enjoyed the mountain air so much, that I was almost sorry when we arrived. I wish you could see the great madroña-trees on the mountains with their dark-red wood and beautiful green leaves. I do not believe you have any Eastern trees so beautiful.

On the top of the Santa Cruz mountains, where we stopped to water the horses, there is a little house, and while we waited there, out from the house came a man whose face was all scarred and seamed. After we drove away, the stage-driver told us that the man was a hunter, known as "Mountain Charley," and that his scars were made by a grisly-bear.[28]

Well, we have now been at Santa Cruz a week, and I have had a good time. Every morning we go in bathing. It is a funny sight to see everybody racing down into the waves, and catching hold of a big rope that is stretched from the shore a good distance into the water. The undertow here is so strong, that it is not safe to venture away from the rope.

Yesterday we all went to Moore's Beach to have a "clam-bake." We rode in a big wagon; and the first thing we did, when we got to the beach, was to pull off our shoes and stockings, and wade in the water. Papa and Uncle John dug the clams; while the rest of us ran about hunting for sea-urchins and shells.

As soon as the clams were boiled, we sat down on the beach, and unpacked the lunch-baskets. Oh, how hungry we were! and how good every thing tasted.

There was one lady in the party, who sat up high on the rocks, with her kid gloves on, and her sunshade over her, while the rest of us were running about with bare feet, and skirts tucked up. But at lunch-time she came down from her high place, and I saw her eating clams with as good a relish as any of us.

Next week we are going to Pescadero, and, perhaps, I will write to you again from there.

THE PARROT WHO PLAYED THE MASTER.

A STORY WITH A MORAL.

The master of the house had gone out on business. As he shut the door, the parrot, whose place was on a perch in the room, thought to himself, "Hi! Now I am master in this house, and I'll let people know it."

[30] He thereupon threw his head proudly on one side, and spread himself in a very pompous manner; then, as he had seen his master do, broke the finest rose from the bush, and put the stem in his bill; then looked at his gay-colored coat in the glass, and felt as grand as a born nobleman.

Near by, on the rug, two dogs, Ami and Finette, lay asleep. They were well-trained, obedient dogs, clean-limbed and civil, expert in many clever tricks, but not quite a match for the parrot in cleverness and cunning.

As soon as the latter spied them, he cried out, imitating his master's tones, "Finette, attention! Ami, make ready!" Whereupon Ami stood up on his hind-legs, straight as a sentinel; while Finette hurried up, expecting to have something thrown for him to bring back.

There stood and stood the poor simpletons, steadfastly looking up, while Master Poll cried sternly all the while, "Ami, make ready! Finette, attention!" Finette became almost wild with eagerness; and poor Ami could hardly stand on his hind-legs any longer.

The moral of my story is this: whenever a simpleton puts on airs and plays the master, there are always other simpletons ready to obey his commands.

CATSKILL-MOUNTAIN HOUSE.

My little friend Mabel is passing the summer amid the Catskill Mountains. These mountains are in the State of New York, on the west side of the Hudson River.

Round Top and High Peak, two of the highest summits, are about thirty-eight hundred feet above the level of the sea. They are well covered with forests, and in autumn, when the leaves begin to change, they make a very brilliant show.

The Catskill-Mountain House is finely situated on a rocky terrace, twenty-two hundred feet above the river. It is twelve miles from the village of Catskill, and is much resorted to in the summer season.

The prospect from this house is quite extensive. Mabel writes me that the view of the sunrise is grand; the air is cool and bracing; and the sight of the tops of trees rolling below, like a sea, for miles and miles, is a thing to remember.

SLEEPING IN THE SUNSHINE.

Words by Matthias Barr. Music by Robert Mills.

Sleeping in the sunshine,
Fie, fie, fie!
While the birds are soar-ing,
High, high, high!
While the birds are op'-ning sweet
And the blossoms at your feet,
Look a smil-ing face to greet.
Fie, fie, fie!

Sleeping in the sunshine,
Fie, fie, fie!
While the bee goes humming,
By, by, by!
Is there no small task for you,—
Nought for lit-tle hands to do;
Shame to sleep the morning through!
[33]Fie, fie, fie!

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[34]

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Address "DEW DROP" PUBLISHING CO.,
P. O. Box 2448. Boston, Mass.

A CARD.—We offer a cash prize of $5.00 for the best—we have not space to give full particulars, but there are ten articles for competition, for each of which we shall give $5 cash. A splendid chance for boys and girls to earn a little pocket money. Send 5 cents for full particulars and a specimen copy of "The Dew Drop."

PREMIUM-LIST for 1875.

For three new subscribers, at $1.60 each, we will give any one of the following articles: a heavily-plated gold pencil-case, a rubber pencil-case with gold tips, silver fruit-knife, a pen-knife, a beautiful wallet, any book worth $1.50. For five, at $1.60 each, any one of the following: globe microscope, silver fruit-knife, silver napkin-ring, book or books worth $2.50. For six, at $1.60 each, we will give any one of the following: a silver fruit-knife (marked), silver napkin-ring, pen-knives, scissors, backgammon-board, note-paper and envelopes stamped with initials, books worth $3.00. For ten, at $1.60 each, select any one of the following: morocco travelling-bag, stereoscope with six views, silver napkin-ring, compound microscope, lady's work-box, sheet-music or books worth $5.00. For twenty, at $1.60 each, select any one of the following: a fine croquet-set, a powerful opera-glass, a toilet case, Webster's Dictionary (unabridged), sheet-music or books worth $10.00.

*** Any other articles equally easy to transport may be selected as premiums, their value being in proportion to the number of subscribers sent. Thus, we will give for three new subscribers, at $1.60 each, a premium worth $1.50; for four, a premium worth $2.00; for five, a premium worth $2.50; and so on.

BOOKS for premiums may be selected from any publisher's catalogue; and we can always supply them at catalogue prices. Under this offer, subscriptions to any periodical or newspaper are included.

SPECIAL OFFERS

BOOKS.—For two new subscribers, at $1.60 each, we will give any half-yearly volume of The Nursery; for three, any yearly volume; for two, OXFORD'S JUNIOR SPEAKER; for two, THE EASY BOOK; for two, THE BEAUTIFUL BOOK; for three, OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER; for three, SARGENT'S ORIGINAL DIALOGUES; for three, an elegant edition of SHAKSPEARE, complete in one volume, full cloth, extra gilt, and gilt-edged; or any one of the standard BRITISH POETS, in the same style. GLOBES.—For two new subscribers, we will give a beautiful GLOBE three inches in diameter; for three, a GLOBE four inches in diameter; for five, a GLOBE six inches in diameter. PRANG'S CHROMOS will be given as premiums at the publisher's prices. Send stamp for a catalogue. GAMES, &c.—For two new subscribers, we will give any one of the following: The Checkered Game of Life, Alphabet and Building Blocks, Dissected Maps, &c., &c. For three new subscribers, any one of the following: Japanese Backgammon or Kakeba, Alphabet and Building Blocks (extra). Croquet, Chivalrie, Ring Quoits, and any other of the popular games of the day may be obtained on the most favorable terms, by working for THE NURSERY. Send stamp to us for descriptive circulars.

MARSHALL'S ENGRAVED PORTRAITS OF LINCOLN AND GRANT.

Either of these large and superbly executed steel engravings will be sent, postpaid, as a premium for three new subscribers at $1.60 each.

Do not wait to make up the whole list before sending. Send the subscriptions as you get them, stating that they are to go to your credit for a premium; and, when your list is completed, select your premium, and it will be forthcoming.

Take notice that our offers of premiums apply only to subscriptions paid at the full price: viz., $1.60 a year. We do not offer premiums for subscriptions supplied at club-rates. We offer no premiums for one subscription only. We offer no premiums in money.

Address, JOHN L. SHOREY, 36 Bromfield St., Boston.

The Nursery.

TERMS—1875.

SUBSCRIPTIONS,—$1.60 a year, in advance. Three copies for $4.30 a year; four for $5.40; five for $6.50; six for $7.60: seven for $8.70; eight for $9.80; nine for $10.90; each additional copy for $1.20; twenty copies for $22.00, always in advance.

A SINGLE NUMBER will be mailed for 15 cents. One sample number will be mailed for 10 cents.

VOLUMES begin with January and July. Subscriptions may commence with any month, but, unless the time is specified, will date from the beginning of the current volume.

BOUND VOLUMES, each containing the numbers for six months, will be sent by mail, postpaid, for $1.00 per volume; yearly volumes for $1.75.

COVERS, for half-yearly volume, postpaid, 35 cents; covers for yearly volume, 40 cents.

PRICES OF BINDING.—In the regular half-yearly volume, 40 cents; in one yearly volume (12 Nos. in one), 50 cents. If the volumes are to be returned by mail, add 14 cents for the half-yearly, and 22 cents for the yearly volume, to pay postage.

IN CLUB WITH OTHER PERIODICALS.
(ALL POSTPAID.)

N.B.—When any of these Magazines is desired in club with "The Nursery" at the above rates, both Magazines must be subscribed for at the same time; but they need not be to the same address. We furnish our own Magazine, and agree to pay the subscription for the other. Beyond this we take no responsibility. The publisher of each Magazine is responsible for its prompt delivery; and complaints must be addressed accordingly.

NOTICE TO SUBSCRIBERS

The number of the Magazine with which your subscription expires is indicated by the number annexed to the address on the printed label. When no such number appears, it will be understood that the subscription ends with the current year. No notice of discontinuance need be given, as the Magazine is never sent after the term of subscription expires. Subscribers will oblige us by sending their renewals promptly. State always that your payment is for a renewal, when such is the fact. In changing the direction, the old as well as the new address should be given. The sending of "The Nursery" will be regarded as a sufficient receipt.

Any one not receiving it will please notify us immediately, giving date of remittance.

JOHN L. SHOREY, 36 Bromfield St., Boston, Mass.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NURSERY, NO. 103, JULY, 1875. VOL. XVIII. ***

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PAGE
The Lost Rabbit	By Aunt Emma's Niece	1
A Tug Excursion	By Aunt Nellie	3
Tit, Tat, Toe!	By Olive A. Wadsworth	5
The Keeper Punished	By Uncle Charles	7
Neddy's Sand-Bank	By S. B. T.	9
Surf-Bathing at Coney Island	By F. H. W.	13
A Funny Fact	By M. A. C.	14
An Exciting Scene	By Mr. Periwinkle	15
'Make a Pie'	By Mary's Mamma	16
A Drawing Lesson		17
A Big Dog	By Bouncer	18
The Butterfly	By Marian Douglas	19
The Young Critic	By Arthur Selwyn	20
Playing Horse	By A. B. C.	22
Jack	By A.	25
A Letter from California	By Daisy	27
The Parrot who Played Master	By Victor Bluthgen	29
Catskill-Mountain House	By Anna Livingston	31
Sleeping in the Sunshine	(Music by Robert Mills)	32

Scribner's Monthly	$4.00,	and The Nursery,	$4.75
Harper's Monthly	4.00,	and The Nursery,	4.75
Harper's Weekly	4.00,	and The Nursery,	4.75
Harper's Bazar	4.00,	and The Nursery,	4.75
Atlantic Monthly	4.00,	and The Nursery,	4.75
Galaxy	4.00,	and The Nursery,	4.75
Old and New	4.00,	and The Nursery,	4.75
Lippincott's Magazine	4.00,	and The Nursery,	4.75
Appleton's Journal	4.00,	and The Nursery,	4.75
Living Age	8.00,	and The Nursery,	9.00
Phrenological Journ'l	3.10,	and The Nursery,	4.00
The Science of Health	2.00,	and The Nursery,	3.10
The Sanitarian	3.00,	and The Nursery,	4.00
St. Nicholas	3.00,	and The Nursery,	4.00
The Household	1.00,	and The Nursery,	2.20
Mother's Journal	2.00,	and The Nursery,	3.25
Demorest's Monthly	3.10,	and The Nursery,	4.25
Amer. Agriculturist	1.50,	and The Nursery,	2.70
Leslie's Illustrated	4.00,	and The Nursery,	4.75
Optic's Magazine	3.00,	and The Nursery,	4.25
Lady's Journal	4.00,	and The Nursery,	4.75
Godey's Lady's Book	3.00,	and The Nursery,	4.00
Hearth and Home	3.00,	and The Nursery,	4.00
Young People's Mag.	1.50,	and The Nursery,	2.70
The Horticulturist	2.10,	and The Nursery,	3.20
Ladies Floral Cabinet	1.30,	and The Nursery,	2.60

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Nursery, No. 103, July, 1875. Vol. XVIII.

No. 103. JULY, 1875.Vol. XVIII.

$1.60 a Year, in advance, Postage included. A single copy, 15 cts.

THE

NURSERY

A Monthly Magazine

FOR YOUNGEST READERS.

BOSTON:

JOHN L. SHOREY, 36 BROMFIELD STREET.

AMERICAN NEWS CO., 119 NASSAU ST., NEW YORK. NEW-ENGLAND NEWS CO., 41 COURT ST., BOSTON. CENTRAL NEWS CO., PHILADELPHIA. WESTERN NEWS CO., CHICAGO.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by John L. Shorey, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

CONTENTS OF NUMBER ONE HUNDRED AND THREE.

EDITOR'S PORTFOLIO.