A SOLDIER.
[A REGIMENT OF ROBBY'S SOLDIERS.]
[ROBBY THINKS HE LOOKS LIKE THIS.]
Mrs. Nye loves peace and a quiet house. But Robby Nye, her lit-tle son, loves racket, noise, hubbub, con-fu-sion and war. Mrs. Nye has to fold newspapers in-to soldier-caps and she has to cut out epaulets and belts and straps and stars and badges, and her room is strewn with these things—some-times she has to cut out and pin on whole suits of armor.
And when Mrs. Nye leaves her chair she is likely to step on a tin soldier and her dress sweeps down whole regiments. Bang! bang! cries Robby, and charges up and down the room. He thinks he looks like a great general—in his own mind he swells up to a tre-men-dous size. But at night this terrible soldier creeps up in-to his mamma's lap just like other boys.