412 



JUVENILE GLEANINGS. 



July 



sent us, a great deal easier than I can some 

 of the letters of giovvn-iip people. Not only 

 Uiat, the grovvn-ui) people often tell half that 

 they want, or even less, while most of the 

 children tell it out plain, sometimes two or 

 three times over. Is it not queer that we 

 now talk to each other all over the world, 

 and understand each other, too, pretty well 

 at least 'i 



I have told you before that when a great 

 deal has to be written, we have methods of 

 writing that are shorter and quicker than 

 the way you write. What I am saying to 

 you now is taken down in this same short- 

 hand we have been talking about; and, by 

 the way, I might tell you that we now have 

 in our factory here two shorthand writers 

 and two type-wi iters — all these as a means 

 oi communicating intelligence rapidly and 

 surely from one to the other. 



Well, now, we have had all this talk, and 

 not a word about the baby. What do you 

 think it has got to do with the baby ? Well, 

 jnst this: I have been talking about the 

 growth of human intelligence ; and it has 

 been a wonderful study to me to study the 

 growth and unfolding and development, as 

 it were, of intelligence in this boy-baby of 

 ours. I was wonderfully curiouswhen he 

 lirst began to manifest the intelligence that 

 stamps humanity so far above any of the 

 animal kingdom. Vv'hen he was a week old, 

 or about tlmt, I was sure that he showed in- 

 telligence enough to give us one of those 

 wonderful baby-smiles. He did not laugh 

 out loud, of course, and I do not suppose 

 you could call it a laugh at all. But there 

 was a queer turn to the corners of his little 

 mouth, and a sparkle in those soft blue eyes 

 that told to me unmistakably that he recog- 

 nized his friejrds, and that he began to real- 

 ize how mucli he was loved and thouglit of 

 in that home of ours. It seemed to me as if 

 it wa^re almost a bright revelation from God's 

 own mind, sent to us to tell us again of his 

 w^ondrous love for his children, "in a week 

 more, the baby began to show funny little 

 ways, and soon he became capable of being 

 taught little tricks, as it were. Perhaps if I 

 should tell you about them, many of you 

 w^ould laugh, and say it was only my imagi- 

 nation, or that all babies do so; and perhaps 

 some of the matrons that read Juvknile 

 Gleanings may say knowingly that it was 

 only the effect of wind on his little stomach, 

 and that a baby three or four weeks old has 

 not a " speck " of sense. We know better, 

 don't we, little friends? Babies do know, 

 and babies do think, and bal»ies do learn, 

 even if they are not a month old yet Have 

 you any idea how much of a comfort that 

 baby is to meV I tell you, my little friends, 

 T get very tired some of these days, and when 

 I go home and get his precious soft little self 

 in ray arms,, and just put my face rightdown 

 under his dimpled little chin, and talk to 

 him, and make him smile, why ! it rests me 

 more than any thing else in this world. 

 Even when he is sound asleep I could sit and 

 look at him by the hour. And I would think, 

 too, by myself, that the world might go here 

 and there after pleasures and beauty; but 

 as for me, there is nothing in this whole 

 wide world so handsome an-d so beautiful 



and so pleasing to the eye as "our baby." 

 Perhaps some of you have read " The 

 Christian's Secret of a Happy Life." Well, 

 our good friend who writes this book says in 

 one place, in speaking of the baby of the 

 household, *•• He toils not, neither does he 

 spin ; yet who in all that household is loved 

 and fondled and caressed like that baby ? " 

 You see, he has no merit of his own ; he is no 

 help about the work of the household ; and, 

 by the w^ay, my wife says that, even if he 

 does not toil nor spin, the one who takes 

 care of him does both toil and spin at times 

 in very good earnest. Why do we love him ? 

 Is it not because God sent him ? 



May I tell you just one little trick of his 

 which he has learned wathin a few days V 

 I might add, he is not by any means one of 

 the \)2f,t babies in the world. He can cry 

 right lustily, I tell you ; and sometimes 

 when they want to put him in the crib, and 

 he does not want to go there, he will curl 

 himself backward, standing on his head and 

 heels, and manifesting his protest at being put 

 to bed, in a way that might almost raise the 

 roof of the house if it were not a heavy roof 

 of slate, and securely fastened down. Now, 

 children, I am afraid that is a pretty big 

 story for your Uncle Amos to tell; but I 

 could not think of any other way of express- 

 ing the power of baby's lungs, and his vehe- 

 mence, when he wants to do something you 

 do not want to have him do. Well, now, 

 when I come home, thinking what fun it 

 will be to just get hold of his precious little 

 self (even "though his rosy little lips do drool 

 on my coat-sleeves now and then), no matter 

 how hard he may be crying when I get him, 

 he is prettv sure to be good ; and after I have 

 talked to him and told him stories, you know, 

 and pinched his fat, chubby legs, and given 

 him four or five big kisses, he will get so 

 good-natured that, with a little provocation, 

 I can make him laugh right out loud — at 

 least, I call it laughing out loud. You see, 

 I just give him a touch on his dimpled chin, 

 and then on his rosy lips, and then on his 

 little pug nose, and he begins to smile with 

 so big a smile that his little mouth is stretch- 

 ed almost to its widest capacity. Then when 

 he can't smile any " wider," he will usually 

 liirow himself back, and give a sort of "coo," 

 expressing his relish for the fun. 



About this timehis mother begins to scold 

 to see how he carries on before 1 come, and 

 then turn around, all smiles and good nature 

 when I get home ! Now^, when friends come 

 in to see him. and smile at the idea of a six- 

 weeks-old baby laughing out loud, I just 

 take him and go through with the whole 

 performance, and then you see they have to 

 give up. 



Do you want to know what his name is V 

 Well, my name for him is "Peter." When 

 they ask me why I call him Peter, the only 

 reply I can give is, that he looks just as if 

 his name ought to be Peter; and although 

 all the rest of the household scold about it, 

 and declare it shall not be Peter, Peter it is, 

 and has been so far. 



Now, little friends, you know all about 

 Peter. And this is not a made-up story 

 either. Don't you kind o' like real, true 

 stories 'i' 



