A lovely infant is the most beautiful object of all God's handy works.
"Flowers _are_ more than beautiful;" they give us lessons of practical
wisdom. So the Savior teaches us. If I did not love little children--if
I did not love flowers--I would studiously hide the fact, even from
myself, for then I could not respect myself.

But to return to the remark which Louise made to her husband, when he
presented her with that good and useful book--a book which has elicited
praise from many able writers, and called forth the gratitude of many
wise and good parents.[D]

This remark was anything rather than a grateful acknowledgment to her
husband for his thinking of her when absent; and it not only evinced a
spirit of thoughtlessness and ingratitude to him, but manifested a
remarkable share of self-sufficiency and self-complacency.

Just so it is with a head of wheat. When it is empty, it stands
perfectly erect, and looks self-confident; but as soon as it is filled
with the precious grain, it modestly bends its head, and waives most
gracefully, as if to welcome every whispering breeze.

But was Louise wanting in affection and care to her own child? No; not
in one sense, for she was foolishly fond of this little paragon of
perfection. She one day said, boastingly, "My child has never been
washed but with a fine cambric handkerchief, which is none too good for
her soft flesh. Nothing can be too good for this precious darling, and
while I live she shall never want for any indulgence I can procure for
her."