BABY DALE’S mamma had a great many pictures of her little boy, but they were not pretty.

The trouble was, he would not sit still even for one little minute. He was always jumping or clapping his fat hands, or saying “Baa, baa!”

One of his pictures had three eyes, and one had no nose.

One funny one had his mouth wide open like a big O, for he was crying.

And there was one where he had his mouth shut, but he looked very cross. He had a frown between his eyes. Mamma said she would not know it was her sunny boy.

But by and by a man came who could take pictures whether babies kept still or not.

One day little Dale was in his high chair by the window. Outdoors it was snowing.

Baby thought the snowflakes were pretty white feathers coming down from the sky. Mamma and he played with a feather once that came out of his pillow. It was nice.

Such a lot of feathers! They made pretty white caps on the fence posts. And there were great heaps of them on the ground!

“Some day,” thought Baby, “I will go out that door, and I will creep right down the steps, and I will go to that big pile of feathers, and I will get my hand full, and I will throw them away up, up, back into the sky!”

Then baby laughed, and the man who had come to take his picture touched a button on a queer little box he had, and there was Baby just as you see him.

That is how Baby Dale came to have a picture that mamma loved.

All the aunties, when they saw it, said, “Oh! how sweet.”

Mamma sent a picture to the grandma down in Flor-i-da, and one to the grandma up in Maine. One went over the ocean to Uncle John who loves Baby Dale very dearly. One went out West to Auntie Lou, and one went to Boston, to be printed for you.

Mrs. C. M. Livingston.