Al. G. Field

Mornin' little dreamer
With sunshine in your eyes,
The stars were talking to you
Ere they left the brightening skies.

"The Care of Children, by Dr. Holt," is the title of the book by which the baby is being reared. On the care of feeding bottles it recommends: "When the baby is done it must be unscrewed and put in a cool place under a tap. If the baby does not thrive, it must be boiled."

Hattie remarked afterwards she "never reckoned the poor, measley little thing would stay with us." It was little, it was puny, but it brought a happiness into the household never before experienced—brought a happiness into the lives of Uncle Al and Aunt Tillie—that only those who love children and have never been blessed with them can appreciate.Alfred with his usual assurance undertook to instruct the family, including the doctor and the nurse as to how the baby should be handled—yes, that's the term he used, "handled." Aunt Tillie reminded him the baby was not a colt. He was advised that the old fashioned way of nursing babies was obsolete. He was not permitted to up-de-doo baby, that is, throw him up and catch him coming down, notwithstanding he asserted this was the only way to prevent a baby from becoming liver-grown; nor would Miss Liston or Pearl the mother, permit Alfred to kiss the baby on the mouth. Miss Liston asserted that kissing was most dangerous in spreading microbes and germs; therefore, the baby must not be kissed on the mouth.

"All right, little baby," Alfred would say, "I can kiss his little tootsie ootsies."

"Please don't kiss his foot," appealingly pleaded Pearl. "Please don't kiss his foot, he might put it in his mouth."

"I kissed you on the mouth a thousand times when you was a baby, and I'm living yet," snapped Alfred.

Baby cried at night. Alfred declared it was unnecessary to lose sleep on account of a baby crying. All required was a cradle. Every person that expected to rear a baby should have a cradle.

Alfred visited every furniture store in the city. Not one had a cradle. Few understood what they were. One young clerk advised that his grandfather in the country, near Alfred's farm had one and he had heard the grandfather say his father before him had used it.Alfred sent his colored man, Doc Blair, to borrow or buy the cradle.

The cradle was borrowed. The man did not care to sell it. He sent the wagon to get the cradle.

"Hide it in the barn until I return; I want to introduce baby to it. This will prevent his crying at night, that is so wearing on his mother and so irritating to Aunt Tillie, and leg-breaking to his daddy."

He explained to Hattie, who knew all about babies. Hattie just smiled: "You just rock him to and fro and he will go to sleep any time. You can't raise a baby without a cradle, it is impossible."

"Bring in the cradle," was Alfred's command to Doc Blair.

"Mister Field, you can't bring that thing in hyar. Some of you all will get your legs cut off. You can't get it through the door nohow. We couldn't get it in the top wagon. We had to take the farm wagon."

On the lawn near the front door reposed an old fashioned cradle for reaping grain, such as farmers used before the horsepower reapers came into use—a hand cradle with rusty scythe and hickory fingers.

Alfred called at a cabinet maker's and ordered a cradle made to order. The rockers must be pointed and have plenty of circle so it would not overset easily. The German agreed to have the cradle completed by Saturday.

Sunday was selected as the day to introduce baby Field to the soothing influence of a cradle. Alfred advised "All you have to do is sit near it. You can read or sew. Just gently push the cradle with your foot. You can have a rope reaching to your bed. If the baby gets restless at night all you have to do is hold on to the rope."Alfred insisted that Eddie, the father, learn to sing the old nursery song, the inspiration of which was the sugar trough cradle Alfred was rocked in:

Pearl claims it was the singing of this lullaby or the attempts of Eddie to sing it, that spoiled Field's disposition.

The cabinet maker certainly misunderstood Alfred's specifications as to the construction of the cradle. Aunt Tillie declared she would not have it in the house. Pearl named it "Noah's Ark." When baby was laid in the cradle he appeared as but a speck. When Alfred essayed to rock it to show the others how, baby howled with fear. Alfred swore if they had known anything or consulted him they would have ordered the cradle before the baby came, put him into it on arrival, then he would have gotten used to it by this time. "Now you'll have trouble breaking him to the cradle. Every baby should be cradle-broke as soon as they are born." Aunt Tillie again reminded Alfred the baby was not a colt.

"The cabinet maker was ordered to make a cradle, not a life raft. I didn't order but two rockers. I never ordered it that big. Do you think I'm a fool. I know what a cradle is."

"Well, you don't call that thing a cradle, do you?" inquired Aunt Tillie.

"Well, it's as near as you will get to one, people don't know nothing about babies or cradles in these days."

The cradle, with its three rockers and six sharp points and a big old fashioned rocking chair with four more pointed rockers, made the baby's room a storage place for ancient instruments of torture.The night was a wild one, winds without, colic within. Eddie knew the route to the paregoric.

After the first combat with the rocker Eddie swore it would have to go or he would. He felt he had a chance with the rocking chair, but with six points more against him he balked. "Besides nearly breaking my neck, I broke the paregoric bottle and got glass in my feet."

Doc and Alfred sorrowfully bore the cradle to the chicken house and it has become a receptacle for old carpets and other rubbish.

Aunt Tillie said: "Well, you boasted Field would have something no other baby in this section had and you made good—nothing like that cradle was ever seen in this section. I wonder what you will think of next to squander your money on?"When the cradle is referred to Alfred flares up. "I've had three or four offers for it lately. I expect a man here to look at it tomorrow. Don't you dare to break it up to make chicken coops with. I'll get three times as much as I paid for it just as soon as sensible people who are raising a baby learn I have a cradle. Some smart man will start a cradle factory, and he'll get the money, too."

All the common sense suggestions offered by Alfred were rejected. He volunteered to walk the floor with baby while he was cutting teeth.

"No, sir, no, sir, I will not permit you to walk the floor with him while he is cutting his teeth. You walk the floor with him when he is teething, when he grows up the dentist will have to carry him around the office before working on his teeth."

"Don't ride him backwards. He will be bald. Riding backwards is the cause of half the baldness in the world."

Nurse had a schedule by which baby's cries were timed. Lung expansion was necessary. Crying was essential to lung expansion, exercising his voice Field made a new schedule. He was on time; in fact, he worked overtime. He cried by sun time, that is, he began by sun time and quit by any time. He cried until George Washington's portrait turned its face to the wall, the dogs howled, and the cream soured.

Notwithstanding, the baby of these days is raised after the automatic drop-a-nickle-in-the-slot manner, it is surprising how they thrive. He was a tiny, human toy a little while back; now he is the autocrat of the house, the absolute boss. Riding or driving, walking or autoing—he is first. He sits at the head of the table. If he desires aught, his desires are gratified. It is only those who have crossed the apex and begun the descent on the other side, that can realize how quickly children—the baby of yesterday, becomes the head of the house, ruling all with love. Field will be a year old the first of the month. He will have a birthday party; there will be a cake and one candle. Aunt Tillie will have a birthday party for Uncle Al soon. When she asked his age that she might order the candles to decorate the cake, he answered, "Just make it a birthday party, not a torch light procession like Ollie Evans had on his birthday."

The inner man, like the negro, is born white, but is colored by the life he lives; but not one is so black they have not felt humbled and rebuked under the clear and open countenance of a child. Who has not felt his impurities the more that he was in the presence of a sinless child?

You have probably seen one whom some low vice has corrupted, one who is the aversion of man and woman, make of himself a plaything for a rollicking crowd of children, enter into their sports in a spirit that made his countenance glow with a delight, as though only goodness had ever been expressed upon it.

You have seen another—a genteel person, cold and supercilious—endeavor to make himself agreeable to children, court their favor, win their fancy. You have seen the child draw back and shrink in undisguised aversion. I have always felt there was a curse upon such a person.

Better be driven from among men than disliked by children and dogs. One is as instinctive as the other.

It is a delicate thing to write of one's self. It grates on one's feelings to write anything derogatory and may be redundant to write praise. I have endeavored to watch myself go by. To those who have followed me thus far, to those who have been my friends, to those who are my friends, to all mankind who despise hypocrisy and love human beings and dogs, I commend myself in

A GOOD INDIAN'S PRAYER.