attention to the illustration of "The First Corner" on
page 117. It is a design by Perkins, exquisitely engraved by John Andrew
& Son.

"The Boy who loved his mother" is another picture that is worthy of
special notice. The "Drawing-Lesson" by Weir, should attract the
attention of all children who want to learn to draw.

Canvassers will find from our terms that we offer them rare inducements
for extending the circulation of "The Nursery." It is poor economy, even
in the hardest times, for parents to neglect what may largely contribute
to the education of their children.

"The Easy Book" and "The Beautiful Book," are now recognized as Standard
works for the young, and continue to be in great demand. To these we
shall soon add "The Nursery Primer," which will surpass everything of
the kind yet got up.

"Next to a baby," writes a subscriber in Charlotte, Mich., "there never
was such joy in a household as 'The Nursery.' My little girl will repeat
nearly every poem, though she does not know a letter. My boy is just
two, and such a yell of delight when he finds a '_bow-wow_,' as he calls
the dog, all to himself, would astonish a Piute Indian. I don't have to
keep any 'cramp drops,' 'baby jumpers' or 'patent food,'(?) for the
children. I find they never have an ail or grievance, but 'The Nursery'
acts as a specific. I wish every mother in the land would give it to her
children on trial. And really it makes old people feel quite sunny."

It will be seen by a notice in our advertising pages, that the Publisher
of "The Nursery" is prepared to execute various commissions in the way
of purchasing and forwarding books, Maps, Games, Stationery, &c., for
parties desiring them.

[Illustration: THE BOY WHO LOVED HIS MOTHER.]

THE BOY WHO LOVED HIS MOTHER

When Felix was a little fellow, hardly two years old, he used to pet his
mother, and tell her how much he loved her.

As he grew up, he showed his love by his acts. He minded his mother; he
gave her his attention when she talked to him; and, if she told him not
to do a thing, he would not do it.

If she said, "Felix, don't do that," he would not fret, and say, "Why
not, mother?" Oh, no! He would at once give up what he was doing; for he
knew she would not, without some good reason, forbid him to do a thing
that pleased him.

Once, when Felix had grown to be six years old, his mother took him with
her on a journey in the railroad-cars to New York. It was a fine day