The Portland daily press., 1873-01-09
That Unhappy Baby.
BY OLIVE THORN.

saw it in the cars and thought it would
be dead-or else I should-before the cars
stopped and 1 could change my seat. I've
no doubt it is safely sleeping some where um
der the daisies this very minute. Pm sure 1
hope so.
1t had filssy mother, poor little soul and
and the way it was pulled and hauled and
jerked and twisted was fearful to behold. 1t
was good natured little thing, disposed to
be amiable and contented, but no sooner did
it get into comfortable position than it had
to be Topped around into some other position
That fussy young mother just couldn't keep
her hands off, do believe.
Baby sucks his thumb--happy infant land
so hi lies back in an easy attitude, stuffs his
blessed little digit into his mouth, and is
happy. But mamma thinks he must be hun
CRY, so she gathers hi n up in heap. pulls
down the troublesome long clothes, fixes his
cloak. puts back his silky h tirs, and invites
his attention to the dnner-bottle Baby is
agreed, and settles easily to the new comfort
Not so mamma. Just as the pink lids begin
to droop heavily over the blue baby eyes, the
winks grow longer and longer, land a delicious
uloWoiuCoo oeCfiiS ONO- uiui, tudt oudlp eye vi
hers spies something amiss with his nose, and
all the maternal fuss rises within her. She
hunts up pin and her handkerchief, aud
proceeds to annoy and torment him with that
weapon till the best-tlIsposed baby cant en-
dure minute longer. He screams in disgust
and Pm glad it.
Leaving his meal unfinished, she dandles
him few minutes, till he stops crying, and
then hands him over to papa. in the next
seal. Now papa is eating buiscuit, so of
course t e unhappy baby must have biscuit.
Choking and gasping; he screams again.
Who wouldn't, I'd like to know?
Then mamma takes him till he is quiet,
and lays him down on a shawl, on the seat in
front Of her. He consoles himself with his
thumb again, and is happy once more.
He falls asleep. His thumb slips out of the
rosy mouth, and be has forgotten all his
troubles Now snroly che will let him alone
But no, the incorrigible mamma fin Is that
his head is the wrong way, and the shawl
that is under him must be over him. So over
he goes, and of course wakes up and cries
poor infant!
This time, to quiet him, she lays his face
against her shoulder, digging his poor little
nose and open mouth into her wooden shawl.
OF course, he can't breathe, and he screams
again. and she slaps him on the back, as
though pounding was quieting process!
He cries harder, and she lays him OH his face,
on her lap, and pounds him. He stiffens his
neck and rebels loudly. Then papa takes
him, tosses him up, saying, ''Kecher! kecher
kecher!' till his sobs cease again"
Then mamma hunts in her bas
ket for something to divert him. 1t proves
to be ''cookey," which he sucks, and daubs
all over his face, of course.
He enjoys this, and would go to sleep in
spite of everything; but his mother is at him
again. This time she vets towel at the wa
ter cooler and proceeds to wash off the little
tender face with icewater. He screams, an
she rubs, as though she were scrubbing a
floor, till at last he emerges, clean but red,
and in perfect rage.
(Wben will mothers learn to wash baby's
soft flesh and not hurt it? No wonder they
inDibe such horror of water and towels!')
Then the cars stopped, and took up my
travelling satchel and went into another car
where the only baby was owned by an oldel
mamma, who has lear.ed to let him alone
when be is comfortable, though he stand OF
his head
But could not forget the unhappy suffer
er had deserted, and wonder the first ba
by isn't always worried into lifelong FIRE. .ful
ness.