The Nursery, No. 107, November, 1875, Vol. XVIII. | Page 5

and, when Aunt Patience took out
from it two or three quarts of chestnuts, it lost all its terrors. The boys
were allowed to play in the room as much as they pleased; and the
innocent hair trunk was made to do duty as a wolf, a bear, a tiger, and

various other wild beasts.
"I wish you would stay here a hundred years!" said little Bertie to his
aunt, one day. "I wish she would stay for ever and ever, and longer
too!" said Fred. "What do you go back to your old school for?" said
Bertie. "My school!" said Aunt Patience. "I have not any school, and
never had any."--"Why," exclaimed the little boy, "my mamma said
you were a lady of the old school!"
Then mamma and auntie had a merry laugh; and the boys were
informed that mamma only meant that Aunt Patience was a very polite
lady of the olden time.
The boys constantly forgot to call her "auntie," but remembered the
title of "great," and the precious old lady was just as well pleased to
have them call her "Great Patience."
When she bade them good-by, they both cried, though Fred was very
private about his tears; and both boys declared that the best visitors
they ever had were "Great Patience and her little red lion."
MAMMA.

[Illustration]
CROSSING THE BROOK.
Over the stepping-stones, one foot and then another; And here we are
safe on dry land, little brother.

[Illustration]
NELLIE'S LITTLE BROTHER.
When Nellie was quite young, she lost her dear mother; and two sad
years passed by for the little girl. She used to go and look at her

mother's portrait, and wonder whether she could see Nellie, though
Nellie could not see her.
But, at last, her father gave her a new mother, who was so kind and
good, that Nellie loved her very much; though she never could forget
her first dear mother. One happy day, Nellie learned that a little brother
had been born. How glad she was then!
Some weeks passed by before Nellie was allowed to take the little
fellow in her arms; but, when she was permitted to do this, it seemed to
her that she had never felt such delight before. When he would put up
his tiny hands, and feel of her face, she was ready to weep with joy.
But one night the nurse was ill; and there was nobody to take care of
the baby. Nellie begged so hard to be allowed to sit up and attend to it,
that she was at last permitted to do so. She passed two hours, watching
baby as he slept, and thinking of the nice times she would have with
him when he grew up.
At last he awoke; and then Nellie gave him some milk from the
porringer, and tried to rock him to sleep again. But the little fellow
wanted a frolic: so she had to take him in her arms, and walk about the
room with him.
She walked and walked till it got to be twelve o'clock; and then she
stood in the faint lamplight, before the portrait of her own mother, and
it seemed as if the sweet face were trying to speak to her.
But Nellie was so very sleepy, that she hardly knew what she was about.
She walked, like one in a dream,--from the bed to the cradle, and from
the cradle to the bed,--and all at once baby seemed quiet, and she was
walking no longer.
At last she started up, and found she had been lying on the bed. The
faint light of the early dawn was coming through the eastern
window-panes. Where was baby? Oh! what had Nellie done with him?
She jumped from the bed, ran here and there, but could not find him.

At last she looked in the cradle, and there he was, lying snugly asleep.
Without knowing what she had done, she had put him in the cradle, and
had covered him up, and then, without undressing herself, had gone and
lain down on the bed. "Oh, you darling, you darling!" cried Nellie; but
the tears came to her eyes, and she could say no more.
MARY ATKINSON.
[Illustration]

ANNIE'S WISH.
"I wish I were a fairy,-- A fairy kind and good, I'd have a splendid
palace Beside a waving wood. And there my fairy minstrels Their
golden harps should play; And little fairy birdies Should carol all the
day.
"A hundred fairy minions On my commands should wait; And want
and pain should never Be known on my estate. I'd send my fairy
heralds, To solace, soothe, and aid; And love and joy and pleasure Each
dwelling should pervade."
"But, ah! you're not a fairy, Dear little Sister Ann;