Year: 1879

After l had taken my seat looked up
and down the car to see if certain hat
and newspaper held the same place that
they held for many mornings before.
There they were, to be sure, and in a
moment or two their owner rose deliber-
atcly and took a seat as near to mine az
circumstances would admit.


I lived in an inland town and went
two or three times week to the :'Most
Christian City" Il hope every one rccog-
nizes it by that name), to take lessons in
drawing and water-colors. On this par
ticular morning, after my listener had
changed his seat without SO much as a
glance in my direction, the train stopped
at the Junction, and young lady in
quaker costume, with a baby in her arms
came In. There were but two empty
seats-onc with the gentleman, and the
other with me. She hesitated. and thcn
sat down by me.


The baby might have been c1g..t or
nine months old. 1t, or rather she I
guessed rapidly that it was. a girl, for
boy-bablcs are going out of fashion,, re-
garded me with fixed, solemn manner,
as If the bright feathers in my hat were
an insult to the colorless existence she
had been born into.


tried to disarm her with the wiles
that l had seen other people use with ba-
blcs; but whether l failed from want OF
practice IN the art, Or whether my efforts
were not so unconscious and hearty as
they might have been if I had not seen
smile haunting the face of nv listener
across the aisle whatever the reason, the
sphlnx-likc face never altered.


~ shall be rid OF you,' thought, ''in
few minutes mere;' but had counted
without my host. When I left the car
my listener helped me to the platform as
usual, without any sign of consciousness
that he had ever done it before. The
Quakeress followed close after me. In
spite OF her extreme carefulness, she
caught her foot on the step and fell to
the ground; but with the instinct of
mother love, the same the world over, she
managed to lay the baby softly down be-
side her without injury.


[ took up the baby, awkwardlv enough.
no doubt, while my listener lifted the
mother, but with a moan she sank down
again and tainted away.


The Quakeress had been the last to
leave the Car, and the crowd, as well as
the conductor, had gone about their busi-
ness. My listener and I were left almost
alone to face this development of affairs.


"Tell ME what to do, and I'll do it."
said my listener, desperately, as he chafcd
the poor woman's hands.


"Do you think you can carry her to
the waiting room? We can do better
with her therc'


He took her easily in his arms, and
led the way with the travelling bags and
the baby to the ladies' room, where she
was laid, still unconscious, on a settee.


Then he went in search of water, and
made a nest Of shawls for the baby to lie
in, while gave my strength t. reviving
the mother; but even Quaker composure
must give way at last to total depravitv.
and she went off into such passion of
crying and holding her breath that I
considered a fit imminent, and took cour
age to say to my listener, when he re-
turned with the water:


"1f you would hold the baby for lit
tie while"


"rhc Fates torbid!" he said, holding
up his hands in whimsical dismay y; "I nev,
er held a baby in my life


"Neither did I, but have seen others
do it,


"You must show me just what to do.
then"


He performed all my requests to the
the letter but the baby, as if to make m
for its long silence, would not be pac1fied
on any terms. I bathed the mothers
face, and soon had the pleasure of seeing
her color return and her eyes open.


"Don't be alarmed,' she said, in
sweet voice, II often faint"


She held out her arms to the baby,
who Immediately put on her Quaker quii-
etness ag,in, as If it was mask; but when
she tried to rise, she sank back with a
groan, and it became evident that she