Summary

Various The Nursery, March 1877, Vol. XXI. No…

Presently the mother-hen, turning round, happened to spy him. She stopped scratching, and looked at him as if she were saying, "All my chickens swim: now what is the matter with you? I know it must be laziness; and I won't have that."
Then spreading out her wings, and making an angry clucking, she flew towards the unlucky duckling, took him by the back of his neck in her beak, and threw him as far as possible into the water. As she walked back to her weeds again; it seemed almost as if I could hear her say,—
"The chicken who can swim and won't swim must be made to swim."
Source: Gutenberg

Various The Nursery, March 1877, Vol. XXI. No…

Santa Claus never allows himself to be caught in that way. You never see even his feet. He never leaves his shoes on the floor, nor dirty old brushes, nor shovels. It is not Santa Claus—it is only a chimney-sweeper.
"But what is a chimney-sweeper?" I think I hear you ask. Well, we do not have such chimney-sweepers now-a-days, at least not in this part of the world. But ask your grandfathers and grandmothers to tell you about the chimney-sweepers that were to be seen in Boston forty or fifty years ago, and I warrant that many of them will remember just such a scene as you see in the picture.
Source: Gutenberg

Various The Nursery, March 1877, Vol. XXI. No…

First they crossed a potato-field, and then a meadow where there was a brook, and where they lost Gyp so often among the bogs, that Harry carried him at last so as to know where he was. Dick ran through the brook, and shook himself over Ned's new sailor-suit; but that was no matter.
Then they came to a rickety old stone wall, and Dick barked. "It must be a woodchuck in the wall. We've got him!" shouted Ned. "Down comes the wall!" Then the stones fell; and Gyp jumped up and down with excitement, while Dick gave a low and terrible growl. "He must be here," said Ned.
Source: Gutenberg

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