the pang by proving to me that they are
susceptible of any rational explanation.
"Ky me" (whatever they may mean) if I
will not !

Is it not enough that the dawning reason
should be bewildered with such lights as
these? Must it be wantonly misled? It is
my belief that your baby begins to think
reason long before its teachers condescend
to talk it. My infantine common-sense
revolted, I remember, against the suggestion
that I should hush-a-by on a tree-top,
when not only was there a secure and
comfortable nursery at hand, but a very serious
mishap likely to ensue were the former
proposition adopted.

Again: that "Burkemyoung " does not
rhyme with "hunting" I hold to be an
insufficient apology for addressing me as
"bunting;" nor does the prospect of being
wrapped up in a rabbit-skin offer sufficient
attractions to atone for such unfaithful
teaching.

Is it imagined that children are born
without ears? An error. I knew a young
lady who, at four years old, indignantly
resisted the attempt in Jack and Jill, to
reconcile "water " and " after," and
always held to the improved transatlantic
reading:

Jack fell down and broke his crown,
And, if Jill didn't — she oughter.

From these, among many examples of a
similar nature, I am led to infer that there
is something in the care of babies highly
debilitating to the intellectual man.
Consequently, to delegate the education of
this, perhaps inevitable, nuisance, to the
sex whose mental progress threatens to
become unhealthfully rapid, may be the best
for all parties.

I myself have studiously held aloof, and,
with one fearful exception, recorded some
while since in these pages, have never, that
I wot of, been in direct communication
with any baby living. It was, therefore,
not without serious mental disturbance
that I received a letter from my niece
Mattie, married and residing abroad,
referring to a rash promise on my part
to come and see her first-born son,
whenever that astonishing phenomenon should
be revealed.

"Aware, dear," continued this saucy
letter, "of your partiality for little trots, I
have not been in a hurry to remind you of
your promise; but, now, darling Babs is
quite a little man" (he was about two-
and-a-half), "so come you must. I do
assure you, uncle, he is not a common
child. (If he had been, my curiosity would
for once have been powerfully excited!)
"He has a hooked nose, like papa, and the
richest little baritone voice. His desire to
see his godpapa is quite touching." (This
remark merely proves into what extremes
the naturally truthful mind may be betrayed
by enthusiasm.) "The moment he heard
you were expected " (So!) " he began
saving up his bits of sugar, and would have
been equally generous with regard to his
magnesia, but that circumstances forbade!
If you could only see him tearing his little
cradle curtains — destructive darling, that
he is!" (I could almost hear the kiss that
accompanied this tribute.) "Or screaming
and splashing in his little bath! O dear,
dear! won't you be delighted with his little
ways!"

Ha! Crumbs of comfort! My godson's
ways were little. If ways of some sort be
unavoidable, the smaller they run the better.
A hooked nose, ha? I don't think I ever
saw a Jewish baby; but, with infants of
my own persuasion, the little dab of putty
which represents the early stage of that
organ, simply expresses indecision as to the
form it will eventually adopt. Let us,
however, hope that the curved beak
foreshadows greatness; at all events, that
decision of character and self-control which
(see Julius Cæsar, Arthur, Duke of Wellington,
Sir Henry Morgan, the buccaneer, and
others) qualify men to be successful leaders
of men. As touching the quality of my
godson's voice, that must, for the present
remain a mystery, a shriek in baritone
conveying to my mind no more distinct idea
than that of a railway whistle with a cold.

My journey, as luck would have it,
was made in company of an interesting
young gentleman about my godson's years.
There was something contraband, so to
speak, in the manner in which he had been
introduced into the carriage. At all events,
it was only when we were fairly under
way, and escape impossible, that he was
suddenly born, as it were, from a basket
that seemed to contain nothing but innocent
lace, and announced his presence with a
querulous squall that might have served for
a signal to the next station. The pretty
little mamma who, with a nurse, occupied
the adjacent seats, apologised so sweetly
for the — no doubt, to her — melodious
disturbance, that I felt I could do no less than
express myself as rather gratified, than
otherwise, at the prospect of our journey
being enlivened by such strains.