The Nursery, November 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 5
TextA FIELD-DAY WITH THE GEESE
Joseph wants to be a soldier; but, not having any boys to drill, he has to content himself with drilling his uncle's geese. See them on parade! He has opened the gate: he has cried out, "Forward, march!" and in come the geese, black and white, single file.
Joseph stands proudly aside, as a commander ought to, while reviewing his troops. He has a flag in his hand. His cousin Richard is the trumpeter. Mary looks on with admiration, and does not remark that Fido, the sly dog, is trying to find out what she has good to eat in her basket.
Now let me tell you a few facts about geese. They have the reputation of being stupid; but Richard has not found them so. That leading goose goes by the name of Capt. Waddle. He does not hold up his head as a captain should; but he minds a good deal that Richard says to him, for he is very fond of Richard, and tries to do all that he is told to do.
I have heard of a goose who became very fond of a bull-dog. Grim, for that was the dog's name, had saved her from the clutch of a fox; and after that it seemed as if the poor goose could not do enough to show her gratitude. Every day she would keep as near to Grim as she could; and, when he was chained to his kennel, she would stay by, and show her affection in many ways.
At last the bull-dog was sent off to a neighboring town; and then the poor goose lost her appetite, and seemed to pine so, that her owner, Mrs. Gilbert, who was a humane woman, and took a great interest in dumb animals, sent for Grim to come back.
It would have pleased you to see the meeting. The instant the goose heard Grim's familiar bark, she started up, and ran with outstretched wings to greet him. She came as near to embracing him as a goose could. Grim seemed well pleased with her delight, and barked his acknowledgments in a tone that could not be mistaken.
The goose soon regained her appetite, and was not again parted from her dear Grim. The best of this story is, that it is true. So you see that even geese are not so stupid but that they show gratitude to those who befriend them.
Indeed, geese seem to be constant in their affections. They know, also, how to show anger. I remember once seeing a boy tease some geese in order to make them angry. They ran after him in a rage, seized hold of his clothes, and nipped him smartly to punish him for the insult.
Once, in Scotland, a young goose became so fond of its master, that it followed him everywhere, no matter how great the distance, and even through the crowd and tumult of a city.
Uncle Charles.
WHAT WILLY DID
When the gas was lighted,
Willy's mamma said,
"Maggie, feed the children,
And put them both to bed."
When the milk was eaten,
Maggie went for more:
So she put the baby
Down upon the floor.
Then the naughty Willy
Climbed up for a match,
And he lit it quickly
With a little scratch.
But it burnt his fingers
When the flame arose,
And suddenly he dropped it
On the baby's clothes.
Up it blazed so fiercely,
That, when Maggie came,
There was little baby
Screaming in the flame.
Maggie put the fire out,
And saved the baby too;
But Willy was so frightened
He knew not what to do.
He was sorry, too, for baby,
With arms all burnt and sore;
And so he never meddled
With matches any more.
H. F. W.
LEARN TO THINK
Walter Dane was in a hurry to go off to play at ball with some of his schoolfellows; and so he did not give much thought to the lesson which he had to learn.
It was a lesson in grammar. Walter's mother took the book, and said, "I fear my little boy finds it hard to put his thoughts on his lesson to-day."
"Try me, mother," said Walter. "I will do my best."
"Then, I will put you a question which is not in the book," said mamma. "Which is the heavier,—a pound of feathers, or a pound of lead?"
"A pound of lead, to be sure!" cried Walter confidently.
"There! you spoke then without thinking," said Mrs. Dane. "A little thought would have made it clear to you that a pound is a pound, and that a pound of feathers must weigh just as much as a pound of lead."
"When I spoke, I was thinking that Tom Burton was out in the yard waiting for me," said Walter.
"Well, take your thoughts off from Tom Burton, and put them on the question I am now about to ask you. What is a noun?"
"A noun is a word used as the name of any object."
"Very well. A noun, then, is a name-word."
"But why is not every word a name-word just the same?" asked Walter.
"Different sorts of words have different uses," said Mrs. Dane. "If I say, 'Walter, come here,' by the word Walter, I name an object or person; and it is therefore a name-word, or noun. Noun means name. By the word come, I tell Walter what to do; and therefore come is a different sort of word from a name-word. Come is a verb. By the word here, I tell Walter where he must come; and so here is a different sort of word from both Walter and come. Here is an adverb."
"But, if I say 'Come,' do I not name something?" asked Walter.
"You certainly do not. What thing do you name? Come is not an object or thing; come is not a person. You cannot say, 'Give me a come,' or 'Let me see a come.'"
"But dog is a name-word, and tree is a name-word," cried Walter. "I can say, 'Give me a dog,' 'Let me see a tree;' can I not?"
"You certainly can, my son," said Mrs. Dane.
"And sister, father, mother, sky, cloud, sun, moon, bread, butter, horse, cow, book, picture, water, land, doll, cart, ball, bat, are all name-words, or nouns; are they not, mother?"
"Yes: I think you begin to see now what a noun is. And let me say one thing more, and then you may run to see Tom Burton."
"What is it, mother?" inquired Walter.
"When your uncle gave you a box of mixed shells last winter, what did you do with them?"
"I sorted them carefully, putting those of the same kind together, so that I might learn their names, the places where they are found, and the habits of the little animals that live in them."