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Emily Huntington Miller.
I AM the Dolly that came over in the big ship. I live now in the house I with a baby. He is a great talker in his own way. Baby-talk is not a real language. It is made up from the language of flowers, and of birds, and of fishes. Have you never seen a baby hold up a flower and talk to it? They would like to do the same with a goldfish.
I will tell how our baby jabbers away to himself, or to me, or the rockinghorse. Some of it I heard, and some I dreamed, and some I guessed at. I learned to guess of a Yankee hen. She could guess when company was coming, and how soon it would be Thanksgiving Day, and which eggs would hatch out ducks.
Please to think of our baby sitting on the floor, and jabbering away, as I said before, after his own fashion, something like this:
“Dear horse, whoa! and don't rock on my toes. Rock on the cat. She's a scratch-cat. Her tail is too short. I can't reach it. She bites. I want to bite, but I can't bite. I'm in a teething humor, but I can't bite. They have n't come, - I mean teeth. But they're coming. They've been heard from.
“I want to get up, but I can't get up. I tip over easy. Please turn round your tail this way. I want to get hold. There I go. I'm rolled over. You did n't hold still. I'll cry, for I'm not a well baby. Grandma says so; says no wonder ; says I ought to have clear milk, with sugar in it, and gingerbread crumbed in.
“Why don't somebody jingle my playthings? I've done with the candle
sticks. I don't want the button-bag tied up. I want the door-handle. I want the tin. I want a pile of it. Make a house. Knock it over. Hurrah ! Clap your hands. Drum on a pan. Rattlety-bang. Make a racket. Dance me, trot me, shake me, cuddle me. Throw me up to the wall. Hurrah for a great stir!
“I don't want to tell what the sheep says. Why does everybody wish to know? Nor the cow, nor the rooster. They don't want it told of. The cat's got a secret. (P. K. Keep it private.) She's going to change her boarding-place, if they don't stop giving her sour milk. Thinks it hurts her voice. Likewise, if she can't have a night-key. P. K.
“No, I don't want to rock-a-by. I want to put sand in my mouth. I want all my clothes off. I want to spat in the water. Give me the poker. No, I sha’n't shake a day-day. I want to go myself. Bring out my hat and feather.
“One day I went to a party. Ten babies. They set us in a row. We all wore our best bibs, and towards night we all sang the same tune. Then the bottle was passed round.
“ They told me to lay my little heddy downy, and go s'eepy. But I'd rather pull hair.
“One little girl baby sat upon the floor. She was a pretty baby. Her eyes were blue as skim-milk, her skin white as a cotton-flannel rabbit, her hair curled up like a snarl of silk.
“I pulled it ; I picked her eyes, I grabbed her, I mauled her, I fisted her, I cuffed her, I crawled over her. But next day I was sorry."
This is all true. He was rough with the little delicate girl baby. But the next day he was very sober, and cried more than once. They thought it was owing to something he had eaten at the party. But the canary-bird knew better. It was all plain to him. And he sang it to a little girl in white, and the little girl in white told it to the one she loved best, and the one she loved best wrote such verses as she thought our baby would like to have written if he had known enough.
They were sent to the delicate little girl baby. Also, there was sent a beautiful blue apron, with something rolled up in it very good and sweet. Here are the verses :
To A VERY LITTLE MAIDEN.
List to me, list to me!
I speak to thee.
Smooth thy brow, smooth thy brow !
To smooth it over, smooth it over.
I can't recover.
But when we thus have gone astray,
And sadly grieve, sadly grieve,
To say, “ Forgive.”
And this sweet word, on bended knee,
I now will say, humbly say.
Forgive me, May!
Forgive me, too, that I make bold
To send you this, send you this ;
A loving kiss.
'Tis for an apron, sweetest love ;
Don't you see? don't you see?
Think of me.
Fairy one, with cheek so fair,
Dark blue eye, sweet blue eye,
Mrs. A. M. Diaz.
TISS KATY-DID sat on the branch of a flowering Azalia, in her best
1 suit of fine green and silver, with wings of point-lace from Mother Nature's finest web.
Miss Katy was in the very highest possible spirits, because her gallant cousin, Colonel Katy-did, had looked in to make her a morning visit. It was a fine morning, too, which goes for as much among the Katy-dids as among men and women. It was, in fact, a morning that Miss Katy thought must have been made on purpose for her to enjoy herself in. There had been a patter of rain the night before, which had kept the leaves awake talking to each other till nearly morning, but by dawn the small winds had blown brisk little puffs, and whisked the heavens clear and bright with their tiny wings, as you have seen Susan clear away the cobwebs in your mamma's parlor; and so now there were only left a thousand blinking, burning waterdrops, hanging like convex mirrors at the end of each leaf, and Miss Katy admired herself in each one.
“Certainly I am a pretty creature,” she said to herself; and when the gallant Colonel said something about being dazzled by her beauty, she only tossed her head and took it as quite a matter of course.
“ The fact is, my dear Colonel,” she said, “I am thinking of giving a party, and you must help me make out the lists."
“My dear, you make me the happiest of Katy-dids." VOL. II. — NO. V.
“Now,” said Miss Katy-did, drawing an azalia-leaf towards her, “let us see, — whom shall we have? The Fireflies, of course ; everybody wants them, they are so brilliant; - a little unsteady, to be sure, but quite in the higher circles.”
“Yes, we must have the Fireflies," echoed the Colonel. “Well, then, - and the Butterflies and the Moths. Now, there's a trouble. There 's such an everlasting tribe of those Moths; and if you invite dull people they 're always sure all to come, every one of them. Still, if you have the Butterflies, you can't leave out the Moths."
“Old Mrs. Moth has been laid up lately with a gastric fever, and that may keep two or three of the Misses Moth at home," said the Colonel.
“What ever could give the old lady such a turn?” said Miss Katy. “I thought she never was sick.”
“I suspect it 's high living. I understand she and her family ate up a whole ermine cape last month, and it disagreed with them.”
“For my part, I can't conceive how the Moths can live as they do," said Miss Katy with a face of disgust. Why, I could no more eat worsted and fur, as they do "
" That is quite evident from the fairy-like delicacy of your appearance," said the Colonel. “One can see that nothing so gross and material has ever entered into your system.”
“I'm sure,” said Miss Katy, “mamma says she don't know what does keep me alive; half a dewdrop and a little bit of the nicest part of a roseleaf, I assure you, often last me for a day. But we are forgetting our list. Let's see, — the Fireflies, Butterflies, Mothis. The Bees must come, I sup
“ The Bees are a worthy family,” said the Colonel.
“ Worthy enough, but dreadfully hum-drum,” said Miss Katy. “They never talk about anything but honey and housekeeping; still they are a class of people one cannot neglect.”
"Well, then, there are the Bumble-Bees." “O, I doat on them! General Bumble is one of the most dashing, brilliant fellows of the day.”
“I think he is shockingly corpulent,” said Colonel Katy-did, not at all pleased to hear him praised ; — “don't you ?”
“I don't know but he is a little stout,” said Miss Katy ; “but so distinguished and elegant in his manners, - something martial and breezy about him.”
* Well, if you invite the Bumble-Bees you must have the Hornets.” “ Those spiteful Hornets, — I detest them!” “ Nevertheless, dear Miss Katy, one does not like to offend the Hornets.”
“No, one can't. There are those five Misses Hornet, - dreadful old maids ! - as full of spite as they can live. You may be sure they will every one come, and be looking about to make spiteful remarks. Put down the Hornets, though."
" How about the Mosquitos ? ” said the Colonel.