You compassionate
them deeply; you think them worthy objects of some charitable
association; you would cheerfully buy tracts for them, if they would but
read them,--tracts on marriage and children.
----And then "the boy,"--_such_ a boy!
There was a time when you thought all babies very much alike;--alike? Is
your boy like anything, except the wonderful fellow that he is? Was
there ever a baby seen, or even read of, like that baby!
----Look at him: pick him up in his long, white gown: he may have an
excess of color,--but such a pretty color! he is a little pouty about
the mouth,--but such a mouth! His hair is a little scant, and he is
rather wandering in the eye,--but, Good Heavens, what an eye!
There was a time when you thought it very absurd for fathers to talk
about their children; but it does not seem at all absurd now. You think,
on the contrary, that your old friends, who used to sup with you at the
club, would be delighted to know how your baby is getting on, and how
much he measures around the calf of the leg! If they pay you a visit,
you are quite sure they are in an agony to see Frank; and you hold the
little squirming fellow in your arms, half conscience-smitten for
provoking them to such envy as they must be suffering.
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