The Portland daily press., 1874-12-03
PR ES S.
THURSDAY MORNING, DEC. 8. IA
The Babies.
BY GAIL HAMILTON.

1t is Sunday, and what shall the babies do?
Railroad trains OF chairs, and Prince Butler,
the dog, cannot be allowed on Sunday, that
is certain. Star Eyes can be lett to herself,
for of herself is she never boisterous but Lit
tie Breeches esteemeth not one day above
another. He is fond of pictures, however
and will listen to reading with an almost
startling intentRess, gazing into the face of
the reader with wide-eYed eagerness, as il
he drew
"With one long look, your whole soul through
. Your lips as sunshine drinFeth dew
A picture of Joseph sold by his brethren
serves as text for long sermon on-well,
1t must be confessed-on camels as much as
on Joseph. Then say, "Now if you will
get me Bible, will read you the story of
Noses"
"The Bible is lost" said he, solemnly.
"Oh! no, think you can find Bible in
the bookcase
"Yes," he says with renewed and increas-
ing emphasis, there has been Bible lost
out of this house. 1t says: t
'Saw Young Anna Faber come waking into
Blessed and beloved ap0stlei Sweetest
saint in all the calendar! Worthy successor
OF that disciple whom Jesus loved, gentlest
and tenderest of all the sons of Thunder, I
sho1ld not have dared to follow my hearts
Dromptings and class you with those holy
men OF old; but when, out OF the mouth of
babes and sucklings, your praise is perfected.
it is not for me to stand by and say them
nay!
So Little Breeches is presently convinced
that it is volume of Whittier and not the
Bible that is lost out of this house, and he
starts off on a tour of exploration. Bibles
are not so scarce that he need take Sabbath
days journey; but his views are vague, bis
mind is discursive, and his search prolonged.
Presently after long silence hollow voice re-
sounds from some remote iastness. "Cus-
nabe, don't care to hear about Moses p
and the culprit heaves in sight with big
kaleidoscope which was put on an upper
shelfin the dark closet for the express pur-
pose of keeping it out of the way. So that is
the reason why "Moses' was so soon nipped
in the bud; but what possessed him to 90
Bible hunting in a clothes closet? 1i
And what feeling is it, what divine discon-
tent with the established order of things,
that makes him come in and throw himself
in a chair with his back to the front and his
heels as high up the back as the suoply will
permit? Is it a physical or mental, a ner-
vous or a social solace that this attitude min
listers to his perturbed spirit? Aud what be-
comes of his clothes? Oh! his Jackets! Oh!
his knees! Oh! the seat of his trousers!
"Little Breeches has gone out without his
jacket, and will certainly get his death o.
cold," says Ann, holding up the mite Of a gar
ment she has found.
''No, Ann, do you not see that is his best
jacket, and he has on his old one? ?"
His best! but what a SCARED old veteran it
looks! And if this is the jacket, how then
shall the trousers appear? those eight pairs
which it was fondly hoped would bear him
triumphantly down the summer months and
through the Indion summer till the nipping
frosts appeared, and alas! before the ides of
August the day light shone through them.
As for his hats, there is no question what
becomes of them. They are hung on the
pump-hande to be gently soaked over night
with the gentle rain; they float in the bath.
tub; they are brought home tenderly by any
kind friend or faithful servant who may have
recognized them in the City Park or the vii
lage green. They are reconstructed into
footballs, and butterfly traps, and buckets for
bailing mud puddles. They crown the heads
of hobgoblins made out of broomsticks and
other poles. 1t is easy enough to see what
becomes of the hats.
At noon Little Breeches Is dressed afresb !:
clean linen suit, new trousers, shining face.
smooth hair, striped stockings well gartered
up, new slippers, pansy in his button-hole,
little stiff with the consciousness of being
well dressed, but most appetizng morsel.
1t rains, but he has a new pair Of rubber
boots which he is O'er-anxlous to try, and his
infatuated mother gives him leave to walk to
the barn. To walk to the barn by rounda-
bout ramble through the garden seems to
him but a small stretch of privilege, but by
the time he enters the barn his clothes are so
thoroughly damp that when he emerges
from the -four barrels into which he entered,
as his first exploit, he is mass of paste, and
the brave, bright clothes have to be ignomin-
iously and Immediately set to soak in the
wash-tub.
What can you do? His troubles seem to
come naturally, not wickedly. Even when
for some real and heinoUs crime he is sent
prematurely to bed, he cries and means, ooh T
now my heart is broken.' He evidently con-
templates the situation not as punishment,
but affliction. His busy little brain is all at
skies and sevens about cause and effect, right
and wrong. sin and suffering "Ann," says
he, in strolling two hours after dinner from
which he was missing, s"Ann, have had my
dnner?"
But Ann is non-committal, and says, ''How
should know whether you have had your
dinner or not?'
''Was at the table, Ann?'
'sNo, did not see you at the tablea
s'Thel of course have not had my din.
ner."
Would you vex this acute little reasoner by
forbidding him the dinner he forgot to come
home 10, and cannot even now tell whether
he has eaten except by external testimony
and abstract argument? We take no note OF
time but from its loss, and he never loses any.
Play is his driving andsthriving business.
School he stoops to, the sturdy old-fashioned
school of book. and study and recess, but the
city kindergarten is an abomination to his
eyes, "Can't l tell Miss Kindergarten"-
this he always call his teacher, whining most
piteously. Cant tell Miss Kindergarten
you want her to let me to come home when I
feel feeble?" and evidently he has at this
moment an overmastering attack of feeble
ness.
The mature male heart is easily imposed
upon. "Baby-in-breecher is frail bud,"
says papa. st is too cold and wild for him
to 60 to school to-day" and Little Breeches
rejoices greatly, but in one half hour the
fraii, bud has vanished from sight,nor comes up
and then blows in, ruddy, disheveled, shout
ing, strong, and altogether happy, except for
being blown in.
The we'll beloved Professor Phrophet
blesses the house with his presence, and Ba-
by-in Breeches is warned beforehand that he
must not talk at the table. 1t seems hard to
put an interdct on those sweet lips; but,
mine own dear little boy, there is no way but
this. Baby promises faithfully, and puts on
pOWCi piCSsulC VI oHcuCc. al
five minutes-five hours to his waiting and
seething soul-he whispers: "Mamma, can't
speak nowT,
mo; sh-shr' says mamma.
Cant whisper, mammal
''No; sh!
"Mamma''-in an ever crescendo and start
lipgy audible whisper, 'Can't just tell you
there was skunk at the school house today?
Oh! there was, mamma, and he smelt aw-
fully" It is grievous and sore affliction
that baby cannot go to church, and when the
tidlngs burst upon him that he is to remain
at home, now does he make the powers that
be feel that they are fighting against God by
roaring at the top of his voice, amipst strong
crying and tears:
"Oh! l wanted to hear Professor Phophet's
sermonp'
But because his elders wish TO hear it in
peace, and because he would hear it with
mutitudinous wrigglings and twistings and
whisperings. with constant and uncertain
downsittings and uprisings, his soul is refused
that spiritual food, and he remains ignobly at
home. Yet, was better sermon ever
preached than his, who called little child