Various
The Nursery, June 1873, Vol. XIII.
A SONG OF NOSES
UNCAN has a nose,
Points my finger at it:
Has a nose the hare,
He will let you pat it.
Has a nose the bull,
Soon he will be lowing.
Has a nose the fox,
He is very knowing.
Peacock has a nose,
Very proud he's feeling.
Has a nose the hog,
Soon he will be squealing.
Tell me which of all these noses
Duncan now the best supposes.
ABOUT SOME INDIANS
Last summer a party of Indians,—men, women, and children,—in nine little birch canoes, came paddling down the Mississippi River, and landed at our village in Illinois. They were of the Chickasaw tribe from Minnesota, who are half-civilized, and speak our language imperfectly.
Indians, you must know, do not live in good warm houses as we do. They live in wigwams, as they call their houses, which are merely a few poles stuck in the ground, and covered with skins or blankets.
They do not provide regular meals, but live from hand to mouth by hunting and fishing. Sometimes they have to go without food a long time. The men are too lazy to work. They like better to strut about with their faces painted all the colors of the rainbow.
The Indians who came to our village were very good specimens of their race. Of course, their visit made quite a sensation, especially among our young folks. As soon as they landed, the squaws (women) threw their blankets over their shoulders, swung their pappooses (babies) on their backs, and, with their little boys and girls, came up into town.
The Indian boys made some money by shooting arrows at cents stuck in a stake. They were quite skilful. The squaws offered for sale slippers, moccasons, and bags, which they had worked themselves with sinews and porcupine-quills.
Their chief, a large man, whose face was painted bright red, got the use of our town hall, and in the evening gathered his party there, and showed us some of their dances. Two of the men beat a "tum-tum" on their rude drums (which looked like nail-kegs); and the little and big Indians danced or hopped around in a circle, singing, "Ye, ye! yu, yu! hi, yi! ye, ye!"
Now and then the chief would pull out a long knife, and swing it around his head; and another Indian would draw up his bow, as if he were going to shoot. This was the war-dance.
We were all much amused; and our little boys and girls laughed heartily. We gave the Indians some money to buy their breakfast, and they said, "Yank, yank!"
When they, or a like party, come again, I will tell you more about them.
Carlos.
PLAYING TABLEAUX
The picture of "Miss Jones" in the February "Nursery" reminded me of two other little girls who are as fond of "playing people" as Edith May.
Nearly every day in winter, when they cannot play out of doors, these little girls dress up to represent different characters. They call this "Playing Tableaux;" but their tableaux are something more than pictures, as they act their parts as well as dress them.
Sometimes, for instance, one of the little girls appears as a peddler, who is quite as hard to get rid of as a real one.
Sometimes a washerwoman comes in, and gets about tubs and clothes, and makes all the confusion of washing-day.
Sometimes papa's great shaggy black coat covers what pretends to be "your good old dog Tiger," who is very kind to his friends, but has loud, fierce "bow-wow-wows" and sharp bites for those who are not good to him.
Sometimes poor little lame Jimmy, who can only walk on crutches, comes in to sell shoe-strings, "because," he says, "you know I can do nothing else to help my poor mother."
Sometimes a ring at the door-bell calls our attention to the wants of a deaf-and-dumb beggar, who makes fearful gestures till he is fed, and then forgets that he cannot speak, and says, "Thank you!" in a very familiar voice.
When these little girls have company, they often fit out travelling parties for California, or a trip to Europe; and the baggage they make out to collect would serve very well if they were "really and truly going," as they tell us they are.
Their good-bys are very affecting as they kiss us all, and beg us write by the first mail.
Aunt Mercy.