The Nursery, No. 109, January, 1876, Vol. XIX. | Page 6

very near
the edge next time.
E. B.

[Illustration]
PUSSY GETS A WARNING.
"Pussy, now that you are here, I wish to say a few words to you; and it
will be for your peace of mind to give heed to them at once. I have seen
you several times, of late, looking sharply at that little wren's nest in the
pear-tree."
"Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow!"
"Yes, I know what you mean by that; but you need not plead innocence.
You think, that, as soon as those eggs are hatched, you'll have a good
feast on the little birds."
"Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow!"

"Oh, you needn't deny it. Now, old cat, take my advice, and, if you
don't want to come to grief, shun temptation in season. If I find you
harming those birds, do you know what will happen?"
"Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow!"
"Oh, you don't, eh? Well, I'll leave it to you to guess what will happen.
I'll only say this: there will be a noise at the river-side one of these fine
mornings, and a certain cat may get a ducking."
"Mee-ow, mee-ow! Fitt! Fitt!"
"You object to that, do you? Then, pussy, don't let me find you
meddling with the little birds or watching their nests."
FRANK.

[Illustration]
"PROUD AS A PEACOCK."
A DIALOGUE.
Laura.--Why is it, Rachel, that you wear that old winter dress to church,
this fine spring morning? Look at me.
Rachel.--What a pretty silk! And what a becoming hat and plume!
Laura.--I gave my mother no peace till she got them for me. Why don't
you make your father buy you a new spring dress, Rachel?
Rachel.--He would have given me such a dress, if I had not told him I
should like something else better.
Laura.--Indeed! Pray, what else would you like better than a beautiful
spring dress?
Rachel.--I knew that if my father gave me a silk dress this spring, he

could not afford to let me take music-lessons: so I told him I would
rather study music than have a new dress.
Laura.--What a silly girl, to prefer music-lessons to a nice new dress!
Rachel.--Hark! What is that harsh noise?
Laura.--It is the cry of that foolish peacock from the balcony of the
garden yonder. He wants us to admire him.
Rachel.--How he struts about, and arches his neck, and shows his fine
feathers, bright with all the colors of the rainbow!
Laura.--I would not change my canary-bird for him.
Rachel.--And I would not change my music for your new silk dress,
Laura.
Laura.--Why do you say that? But, first, who is that man standing there
by the garden-gate?
Rachel.--That is Mr. Blunt, the clergyman who is to preach for us
to-day.
Laura.--He looks at me, and now he looks at the peacock, and now at
me again, and now, with a smile, at the peacock, and now--O Rachel!
this is too bad. I know what he is thinking of.
Rachel.--Let us hurry on to church. The bell has begun to toll.
Laura.--Ah, Rachel, he says to me, as plainly as looks can say, that I
am as vain as yonder peacock.
Rachel.--Why, Laura, how you blush! Do you think you deserve such a
reproof?
Laura.--I do, I do. Here, this Sunday morning, I have been thinking
more of my new summer silk than of any thing else. Like that
screeching peacock, I have been vain of my fine feathers. Yes, let us

hurry on to church. One sermon I have had already. It was all given in a
look.
Rachel.--You are quick to take a hint, I see.
Laura.--I hope I may be as quick to profit by it. "Pride shall have a
fall," says the proverb; and my pride has fallen.
Rachel.--I shall not try to help it up, my dear.
ANNA LIVINGSTON.

GRANDMOTHER'S STORY.
One summer afternoon, when grandmother was sitting in her old
arm-chair, just outside of the door, little Jane looked fondly up in her
face, and said,--
"Tell us a story, grandma."
"A story, child!" said grandma. "Why, I never made up a story in my
life."
"But you can tell a true story," said Ruth, who was seated on the
doorstep,--"about something that happened when you were a little girl."
While they were talking, George and Charles and Snap, the dog, had
come running up to join the group. Grandma stopped in her knitting,
thought a moment, and said,--
"Well, children, sit down, all of you, and I will tell you a true story."
So the children all took seats; and grandma began:--
When I was a little girl, about the age of Ruth, my father was preceptor
of the Hingham Academy. You have all been in Hingham. It is only
fifteen miles from Boston. We go there now, by rail or by steamboat, in

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