some uncracked pericarp in his uplifted hands, the kite circles aloft
and whistles a shrill and mournful note, the sparrows chatter, the
crow clears his throat, the minas scream discordantly, and Baby's
soft, receptive nature thus absorbs an Indian language. Very soon Baby
will think from right to left, and will lisp in the luxuriant bloom of
Oriental hyperbole. [Presently, when Baby grows a little older, Baby
will say to the Bearer, through his sweet little nose, "Arreh! Ulu ka
bacha, tu kya karta hai?" Which being interpreted, is, "Ah! Child of
night's sweet bird, what dost thou now?" Afterwards Baby will learn to
say many other things which it is not good to repeat here.]

In the evening Baby will go out for an airing with the Bearer and Ayah
people, and while they dawdle along the dusty road, or sit on
kerb-stones and on culvert parapets, he will listen to the extensile
tale of their simple sorrows. He will hear, with a sigh, that the
profits of petty larceny are declining; he will be taught to regret
the increasing infirmities of his Papa's temper; and portraits in
sepia of his Mamma will be observed by him to excite laughter mingled
with dark impulsive words. Thus there will pass into Baby's eyes
glances of suspicious questionings, "the blank misgivings of a
creature moving about in worlds not realised."

In the long summer days Baby will patter listlessly about the darkened
rooms accompanied by his suite, who will carry a feeding bottle--Maw's
Patent Feeding Bottle--just as the Sergeant-at-Arms carries the mace;
and, from time to time, little Mister Speaker will squat down on his
dear little hams and take a refreshing pull or two. At breakfast and
luncheon time little Mister Speaker will straggle into the
dining-room, and fond parents will give him a tidbit of many soft
dainties, to be washed down with brandy and water, beer, sherry, or