a young lady.
Sometimes she plays she is mamma; and then she runs round taking care of
her dollies, and says she doesn't know what she _shall_ do now that
Tilly has the measles, and Hannah has the chicken-pox, and she _verily_
believes that the baby has the measles too.

The other day, she said she was going to be Miss Jones, and go down to
the saloon and have her picture taken.

So she fixed herself up with cap and spectacles and shawl, and went down
to the photograph-room, and told the artist that she was Miss Jones, and
she had called to have her picture taken.

Then the artist placed a chair for her, and she sat up as straight as
she could. When the pictures were finished, he sent them to her mamma,
who has sent one to me; and here you have it in "The Nursery."

S. F. W.

[Illustration]

SUE'S SEASONS.

IN the spring, when the leaves all start,
The crocus thrills at its glowing heart,
The windflower opens its tinted cup,
While the sap mounts merrily up and up.

In the spring all the birds begin,
Early and late to build and sing:
Sweeter music was never heard
Then the merry note of a building bird.

In the summer the roses smile,
Painting the roadside, mile by mile;
The sweet-brier catches you as you pass,
The violets thicken among the grass;

Little nests run over with song,
Little wings grow restless and strong;
Daisies shine in the fields afar,
Odors float where the lilies are.

In the autumn the sap runs down,
And leaves are tinted with gold and brown:
In the winter when wild winds blow,
The leaves are dead in a shroud of snow.

MARY N. PRESCOTT.

"CLEAR THE COAST!"

I TOLD you last month how Robert hoped that Santa Claus would bring him
a sled; and how Robert woke on Christmas morning to find by his bedside
a beautiful sled, painted red, with thick iron runners.

The next day he went with Uncle Charles to the hill on Boston Common,
near Park Street, to see the boys coast. Here is a picture of the scene,
drawn from life; and a very correct idea it will give you of the sport
that may be witnessed in Boston after every snow-storm.

Robert had his sled with him; and as he stood with Uncle Charles,
looking at the coas