tention to its wants. He frequently comes and sits beside me while I am busied with my maternal cares. I hoped at first it was for the pleasure of contemplating our priceless treasure; but I soon found it was only to enjoy my company, or escape the pains of solitude. He is kindly welcome of course, but the best compliment to a mother is to appreciate her little one. He shocked me very much on one occasion: it was about a fortnight after the birth of our son, and he was with me in the nursery. We had neither of us spoken for some time: I was lost in the contemplation of my nursling, and I thought he was similarly occupied—as far, at least, as I thought about him at all. But suddenly he startled me from my reverie by impatiently exclaiming,—
"Helen, I shall positively hate that little wretch, if you worship it so madly! You are absolutely infatuated about it."
I looked up in astonishment, to see if he could be in earnest.
