oral Satinet anil .Pictorial fiorne Somjiariion. 
HOME PETS, ALIAS BABIES. 
Is not this a subject that reaches every heart? 
Baby! Listen to its 
sweet, cooing 
notes; strobe softly 
the velvety, cheek, 
and lay it in its 
mother’s arms to 
rest. I am writ¬ 
ing of no “ Ginx’s 
baby,” a satire 
upon government 
and society; nor no 
empty sentiment 
about imaginary 
babies, but I am 
talking about pure, 
living, breathing 
little cherubs, that 
have blessed homes 
and hearts in this 
weary world of 
ours. I will tell 
you of my own lit¬ 
tle boy, who is 
sleeping sweetly in 
his little crib to¬ 
night. He is a 
healthy little fellow 
just six months old, 
and has the bluest SB 
eyes and sweetest £2 
smile, and a lovely 
little dimple in each 
cheek. A German 
lady in our town 
calls them “ sink 
places; ” for the 
Graces, she ought 
to add, for a face 
with dimples has a 
peculiar charm of 
its own. Well, this 
is the liveliest, 
lovliest, langhing- 
est little laddie that 
ever nestled in a 
mother’s arms. I 
recollect seeing a 
whole sheet of the 
Graphic devoted to 
babies. “The Mis¬ 
chievous Baby,” 
“The Colicy Ba¬ 
by,” “The Scream¬ 
ing Baby,” “The 
Sleeping Baby,” 
and the sheet 
closed with “ Our 
Baby,” which was 
represented with 
wings, and if I am 
not mistaken, he 
was asleep too. A 
sleeping angel with 
wings ! I tell my 
baby very often 
that I know that 
the wings are there, 
only I cannot see 
them with this 
mortal vision. But 
Mr. Williams al¬ 
ways wants us to 
tell how we man¬ 
age our pets. Ah! 
there is the rub. 
Give them a plenty 
to eat and a plenty 
of fresh air—that’s 
the whole secret. Teach them to lie in their cribs. 
It can be done. Let them “ cry it out ” two or three 
times. They are bits of human nature after all, and 
will yield to the inevitable. Then crying is good for 
their lungs. I heard an Italian say that the reason 
his countrymen were such fine singers was because the 
mothers did not spoil their babies, but let them scream, 
and scream, and scream, until there was no standing 
it any longer. I wonder where the papas were all that 
time ! As soon as a baby is old enough to go the 
whole night without nourishment, don’t take it up at 
all. It is “a creature of habit,” like the rest of us, 
and will soon learn to sleep the whole night through; 
but at the first peep of dawn he must get up. He has 
his rights, and let him have them. Put him in a tub 
of tepid water every morning ; rub him dry and clothe 
him properly—very lightly in summer, and with high- 
neck, long-sleeved flannel shirts in winter. Physi¬ 
ology tells us that flannel absorbs the moisture, 
making the wearer less liable to take cold. Bare arms 
and neck and legs look beautifully, and if the child 
gets through safely it may be hardened by the process, 
but a learned physician has said that many more are 
killed by it. Then clothe these little embryo men and 
women in good, 
warm clothing, and 
let them breathe 
the fresh air of 
heaven at least 
once during each 
twenty-four hours. 
Not many years 
since a dear, friend 
of mine died, leav¬ 
ing a wee, wee 
baby of two weeks, 
and I brought it 
h o m e; and it 
looked pitiful, with 
its great, sad eyes, 
but it was most 
delicately nurtured, 
and its black mam¬ 
my loved it dearly, 
and we all cared 
for it most tender¬ 
ly. Three months 
afterwards its lath¬ 
er died, leaving the 
little orphan alone 
in the world. How 
gladly I would 
have kept it . al¬ 
ways, but its child¬ 
less aunt came for 
it, and took it to 
her distant, sunny 
home, where the 
little darling is the 
very sunshine of 
the house. I have 
seen her there, 
with her golden 
curls, and her pre¬ 
cious little feet en¬ 
cased in golden 
slippers, as she ran 
to meet “ papa,” 
with the blue rib¬ 
bons flying, and 
her little black 
English terrier run¬ 
ning beside her; 
and he catches her 
in his arms and 
they come home 
chattering most 
gaily. Her nurse 
says that if any one 
down the street 
says she has no 
mamma nor papa 
she is very indig¬ 
nant, and says :— 
“I is got a papa 
and mamma, ain’t 
I, Ollie ? My mam - 
ma is home and 
papa is at the of¬ 
fice, ain’t he, Ol¬ 
lie ?” Thus God 
raises up friends to 
the orphan. Even 
our blessed Saviour 
looked kindly upon 
those little ones, 
and blessed them, 
and they __ are 
blessed forever- 
m o r e. Babies ! 
How their tender 
fingers smooth 
over the rough places of life ! The pet of the house¬ 
hold is “ Our Baby.” When he laughs, how we all 
laugh in spite of ourselves ! When he “ patty-cakes,” 
how we all accept that gentle challenge to join him in 
his sport! How he scatters dull care and brings joy 
and peace to our hearts ! Mrs. V. L. P. 
