The Nursery, No. 169, January, 1881, Vol. XXIX | Page 5

name, The funniest ever seen,--
[Illustration: Another Christmas Tree]
Book and bundle, and scarf, and shawl, Picture and peanuts, skate and
saw, Candy and album, and bat and ball, Hatchet, and doll, and taw,
Games and frames, and comical dames With walnut faces wrinkled and
old, Fillets rare for the sunny hair, And jewels of pearl and gold.
For the good St. Nicholas blest this tree, And it blooms and bears for
every one, With a gift of love to you and me, For beauty, or use, or fun.
Poorer than any the Child whose name Has given a name to our
Christmas-tree; Yet kingly gifts to his cradle came, And kingly gifts
gave He.
GEORGE S. BURLEIGH.

DOWN THE RIVER AFTER THE BOY.
Walter Dale was a little boy six years old, who lived with his parents
on the bank of the River Thames in England. One day, after dinner, he
went to the water's edge to play.
Seeing a small boat tied to a big stone by a rope, he pulled the boat up
to the shore. "What a nice little boat!" said he. "I will get into it, and
rock it, as I once saw a big boy do."
So he got into the boat, and began to rock it. The boat got loose, and
drifted down the river. Walter did not notice this until he was quite a
distance from the shore; then, turning round, he saw what had happened.
Every moment the current was carrying him further from home.
Walter was not a timid boy, and, instead of crying, he began to reason
in this way: "The boat does not leak. It is safe and sound. There are no
waves to make me afraid. The wind does not blow. Here on a seat is a
thick blanket. In this box is a loaf of bread and a knife. The water of the
river is good to drink, and here is a tin mug. I think I will not cry, but
hope for the best."
So he sat down. He called to some people on the shore; but they did not
hear him. He stood up, and waved his hat to a man in a passing boat,
and cried, "Help, help!" But the man thought it was some little fellow
making fun of him.
Meanwhile Walter's mother had become anxious. She ran down to the
river, and followed his foot-tracks to the edge of the water. Then she
ran back to her husband; but he was not in the house. In about an hour
he came back, and she said, "Quick, quick! Get a boat, and call John to
help you. Walter is drifting down the river in that little green boat, I am
sure."
Mr. Dale ran out of the house, called his man John, and they went
down to the bank. Here they took a good fast boat, pulled it out into the
stream, and began to row with the current.

It was getting late. A mist was creeping over the great city of London.
They could hardly see the tall stores, the masts and steeples on one side.
But on they went, rowing swiftly with their good oars, as if for dear
life.
[Illustration: Searching for Walter.]
They looked out sharply on both sides to catch a sight of the little green
boat. At last, when they had rowed about two miles, with the tide in
their favor, Mr. Dale cried out, "I see it! I see it! But, ah! it is empty. I
see no sign of a boy in it. What can have become of poor Walter?"
On they rowed, and at last, came up with the boat. Still no Walter was
to be seen. The poor father was in despair, when all at once Walter
started up from under the great blanket, where he had been hiding. He
cried out, "Here I am, papa, safe and sound!"
"Oh, you little rogue! Come here and let me pull your ears!" They all
got back to their home in time for a late tea, which mother had kept
warm for them. Walter was kissed and then cuffed; but the cuffs were
so tender, that they made him laugh even more than the kisses.
ALFRED STETSON.
* * * * *

"FLUTTER, FLUTTER!"
Flutter, flutter, with never a stop, All the leaves have begun to drop;
While the wind, with a skip and a hop, Goes about gathering in his
crop.
Flutter, flutter, on bustling-wings, All the plump little feathered things:
Thrush and bobolink, finch and jay, Follow the sun on his holiday.
Flutter, flutter, the snowflakes all Jostle each other in their fall. Crowd
and push into last year's nest, And hide the seeds from robin-redbreast.

Flutter, flutter, the hours go by; Nobody sees