The Nursery, No. 106, October, 1875. Vol. XVIII. | Page 6

and told them of the
lonely hours he had spent in the little room below the lamp, while the
waves dashed, and the storm beat outside.
[Illustration]
For many weeks in the winter he lives there all by himself, and sees no
one; but, in the summer time, there is hardly a day when he does not
have a boat full of visitors. He always gives them a hearty welcome,
and makes himself very agreeable. I suppose he feels as though he must
make the most of society while he can get it.
The children listened to his talk with great interest. With many thanks
for his kind attentions, they bade him "Good-by," and, intent on
collecting shells on another island near, stepped into their boat, and
were rowed away, leaving the man and his friendly dog to enjoy each
other's company.

CHARLIE'S MAMMA.

GOING AFTER COWS.
When Edward was eight years old, his mother told him he might go
with John, the hired man, to drive the cows from the pasture. How
happy the little boy was!
Every day he would be ready as soon as John gave the word; and off
they would go, through the woods, over hills and rocks, and gurgling
brooks, wherever the ding-dong of the distant cow-bells pointed the
way.
Sometimes they had a long search before they could find all the cows;
for the pasture was very large, and the cows would wander about in
every part of it, to find the best feeding-places.
[Illustration]
On the way home, Edward would run ahead of the cows, and open the
bars; and sometimes he would sit on the wall, and pat each cow as she
came through.
When the cows reached the barnyard, Edward would help milk. There
was one old cow which he called his own, and which he named Carrie.
She always stood very still while being milked, and that was one reason
why he liked her better than any of the rest.
After milking, he helped John to carry in the milk, and his mother often
gave him a mug full. Oh, how nice it was!
W.T.O.

[Illustration]
ROLY-POLY.

Roly-Poly is three years old, Three years old, and a trifle over:
Roly-Poly is round as a ball, Jolly as larks, and sweet as clover.
Roly-Poly has stars for eyes, A heavenly chin with a dimple in it,
Peaches for cheeks, the bud of a nose, And a tongue that is never still a
minute.
Roly-Poly gets up in the morning,-- Morning, quoth I? it's the crack of
the dawn!-- Dresses himself in a boot and a stocking, Flies to his sister
as swift as a fawn.
Pulls at her eyes with his fat little fingers,-- Crazy for stories, that's all
the matter!-- "Oh! I am sleepy and cross," she cries; "You, Roly-Poly,
disperse and scatter!"
But Roly-Poly's a resolute tyrant; Father and mother are captives
wholly: So what can a poor big sister do But yield to a king like
Roly-Poly.
Roly-Poly's a man of business: He canters to market on grandpa's cane,
Orders a breakfast of peppermint-candy, And gallops his pony home
again.
Roly-Poly's a man of pleasure: Sorrow and care are for grown-up
stupids: Pictures and kisses, toys and caresses, Fondling and fun, for
dimpled Cupids.
After the sun has gone out of the south, The night comes down on his
eyelids slowly; He topples asleep with his thumb in his mouth,-- What
an iniquity, Roly-Poly!
OLIVE A. WADSWORTH.

ELSIE'S DUCKS.
Elsie was the daughter of poor parents, who lived on the borders of a
lake. Once, when she was very ill with a fever, a good neighbor made

her a present of three young ducks. Elsie was much pleased, and she
soon began to get well.
Her mother would bring a large tub of water into the room where the
little invalid lay; and the three ducks would swim about, and swallow
the crumbs which Elsie threw to them.
As soon as she got well, she would drive the ducks down to the lake,
and let them swim. They were so tame, that they would come out of the
water at her call.
Sometimes her father and the rest of the family would get into a boat,
and he would row across the lake to the opposite side, where some
families lived who employed Elsie's mother to wash clothes for them.
[Illustration]
At these times, the three ducks would follow the boat. Perhaps they did
not like to trust their dear Elsie on the water, unless they were by to
help her in case of need.
Sometimes old and young would join in a song; and then far over the
lake would be heard the words:
"Come to the sunset tree, the day is past and gone, The