985
The smiles of infants are said to be the first-fruits of human reason.
—Hudson.
986
THE NEW-COMER.
The hour arrives, the moment wished and feared,
The child is born, by many a pang endeared;
And now the mother's ear has caught his cry;
O! grant the cherub to her asking eye!
He comes, she clasps him, to her bosom pressed,
He drinks the balm of life, and drops to rest.
She, by her smile, how soon the stranger knows;
How soon by his the glad discovery shows!
As to her lips she lifts the lovely boy,
What answering looks of sympathy and joy!
He walks—he speaks—in many a broken word,
His wants, his wishes, and his griefs are heard;
And ever, ever to her lap he flies,
Where rosy sleep comes on with sweet surprise,
Locked in her arms, his arms across her flung,
That name most dear forever on his tongue.
As with soft accents round her neck he clings,
And cheek to cheek her lulling song she sings,
How blest to feel the beating of his heart,
Breathe his sweet breath, and kiss for kiss impart,
Watch o'er his slumbers, like the brooding dove,
And if she can, exhaust a mother's love!
—From Littell's Living Age.
987
NO ONE SHOULD BE BLAMED FOR HIS INFIRMITIES.
A hound, who in the days of his youth and strength had never yielded to any beast of the forest, encountered in his old age a boar in the chase. He seized him boldly by the ear, but could not retain his hold because of the decay of his teeth, so that the boar escaped. His master, quickly coming up, fiercely abused the dog. The hound looked up and said: "It was not my fault, master; my spirit was as good as ever, but I could not help mine infirmities. I rather deserve to be praised for what I have been, than to be blamed for what I am."