The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1877-03-17

and bachelors are rapidly increasing
from diversity of causes-seldom cares
for babies, and generally he feels uncom
Portable in their presence. He feels it to
be the duty of politeness to notice them
to say something kind and appreciative
of or to or about them, in their mothers
presence; but he is ignorant of the man
ner of discharging the duty. Under the
circumstances-tryin it must be con-
fessed-he is conscious of embarrassment
and awkwardness; and the more he trys
to conceal these, the more he reveals
them.
1t is not difficult to imagine how the
average bachelor would conduct himself
in calling upon a married lady who
should have her first, or last, or any,
baby conspicuously placed in the draw
ing-room. To ignore it (all children are
neuter to the childless) would be inn
possible as we'll as impolite. He would
be afraid to approach it, and equally
afraid not to approach it; to speak, or to
be silent on the tender subject. He
would feel somewhat as if expected to
talk Chaldaic without knowing the first
letter of the alphabet, or to describe an
animal he had never heard of. But he
would perceive from the mothers man
ner, from her darting chances toward the
nurse holding the highly -caparisoned in
FAINT, that he would never be forgiven if
he did not effusively acknowledge its ex-
istence. And how can a bachelor be
elusive over baby9 He would either
rush out of the house or make an !
to meet the occasion. If he staid, he
would clear his throat again and again,
attempting repeatedly to swallow his
palate, and finally drone out, in the
voice of an undertaken: I-hope-the
-ba-by's-well. It's-a-beau- beau-ti-
full child never looking at i'll, tit
closely-re-r resembles -its-great-
grandfather. OF course he has never
seen its great grandfather, and the fact
makes him refer to the resemblance,
deeming the position he has taken safe,
because distant and non-committal.
The mother is too much pleased with
his mention of the child to notice exactly
what he has said. To hear that it looks
like anybody pleases her. If he had
spoken of its being the image of Ptolemy
Philadelphus or Diodorus Siculus, she
would have been fattered-all the more,
perhaps, because she would have no
conception who those gentlemen might
be. She invites him to nearer view.
He walks toward it as though he were
stepping on red-hot plowshares (the illus
tration is good because he is passing an
ordeaD, and once more descants on its
beauty, inwardly thinking-the wretch
that it looks like bit of raw roast
beef, garnished with lace and blue rib
bon. Being by its side-he declines,
with shudder, to take it, lest he should
break it, and be sued for damages-he
supposes that he must poke it (this is a
ira dition among bachelors), and so he
sticks his right forefnger toward the
bundle of snub-nose, pop eyes, crimson
face and white raiment. He intends to
touch it somewhere in the ribs, but
seeming to him so much like a struggling
pudding, his knowledge of anatomy is
at fault, and in his nervousness he
thrusts his finger into one of it's cerulean
eyes.
This produces crisis. The infant
screws itself into horrible contortions,
and explodes with yell that causes the
unlucky bachelor to break into cold
and clammy perspiration, while his
blood is on fire, and his heart tries to
force its way out of his throat. In his
agony he begins to pray, and then utters
a confused, clamorous and incoherent
apology, expecting every moment to see
the mass of squirming scream fly to
pieces or dissolve in purple jelly. Apol.
ogies are in vain they are neither heard
nor needed. The mother, in profound
and pitiable compassion, has taken the
roaring, struggling babe from its nurses
arms and is laboring to quiet it. The
offender, the day, the reception, the world
are forgotten. He sees this, and without
any leave-taking dashes into the hall,
seizes his hat and hurries into the street
He makes no more calls that day, nor any
day, until he has learned beforehand
whether at the houses he visits babies
form part of the social programme. The
night of the day of his unhappy eXpe.
rience with the infant is restless and
wretched enough. He rises soon after
dawn, steals round to the house he had
quilted so abruptly, and looks furtively
at the door to see If there be any Grape
on the knob. No death" he murmurs
"thank God! But no more babies fol
~. Y. Times.