THE LITTLE SAILOR.
HAD just finished reading the last number of "The Nursery" to my little six-year-old boy. "Read it all over again, mamma," he said. "Why don't the 'Nurseries' come oftener, so you could read me a new story every minute?"
What a silly question, wasn't it? But I didn't tell him it was silly. I sang the frog-song over again with a good many croaks and kerchugs to make it lively; then we all made ready—the two aunts, papa, my little boy, and myself—to go out sailing in the harbor.
Did any of your "Nursery" readers ever take a sail in Captain Burdette's sail-boat "Fearless" on the smooth water at Nantucket? Well, if you did, didn't you have a jolly time? And, if you didn't, do try it some day when the wind blows just enough to fill the white sail.
We had a merry party, and our little boy was so full of play, that he dragged the boat-broom in the wake of the boat. Then he tried to stand on the forward-deck, and hold on by the mast. But the wind shifted a little, and the sail turned about so suddenly, that it came near pushing him into the water.
So papa ordered him into the stern, where the ladies were, and gave him permission to take hold of the tiller, and help steer the boat. He helped turn her toward the jetty which the government is building to make the water deeper, so that large ships may sail safely into the harbor.
Just as we made the turn, we saw another boat coming towards us. The tide was driving it swiftly along, and it bobbed up and down on the sparkling ripples. A little chap was standing on the bow, drying his wet bare legs in the sunshine. He seemed to be enjoying himself hugely, and paid no attention to our party.
He had a dark mantle thrown over his white vest, and was straight and slim like a naval cadet. By and by he gave his tail a little shake, lifted his two wings, and took himself off the water-soaked stick he had used for a sail-boat. Then he went screaming with his mates high up in the air.
I dare say you know by this time that I am talking about a sea-gull,—one of those birds which fly in such numbers about the seacoasts. My little boy wished he could fly like a gull, but thought it wouldn't be wise to be always hungry for a fish-dinner, as those who study their habits say sea-gulls always are.
MRS. G. I. HOPKINS.
