| [I]. | Baby, Baby | [1] |
| [II]. | To be a Boy | [17] |
| [III]. | On Meeting the Beloved | [33] |
| [IV]. | This is a Father | [47] |
| [V]. | On Being a Landlord | [64] |
| [VI]. | Old Flies and Old Men | [78] |
| [VII]. | The Olde, Olde, Very Olde Man | [94] |
I
BABY, BABY
In meeting a baby, one should behave as much as possible like a baby one’s self. We cannot, of course, diminish our size, or exchange our customary garments for baby-clothes; neither can we arrive in a perambulator, and be conveyed in the arms, either of a parent or a nursemaid, into the presence of the baby whom we are to meet. The best we can do is to hang, as it were on the hatrack, our preconceived ideas of what manner of behavior entertains a baby, as cooing, grimacing, tickling, and the like, and model our deportment on the dignified but friendly reticence that one baby evinces in meeting another.—Baby: his Friends and Foes.
OF the many questions that Mr. Boswell, at one time and another, asked his friend, Dr. Johnson, I can hardly recall another more searching than one that he himself describes as whimsical.
“I know not how so whimsical a thought came into my head,” says Boswell, “but I asked, ‘If, sir, you were shut up in a castle, and a new-born child with you, what would you do?’
“Johnson: Why, sir, I should not much like my company.
“Boswell: But would you take the trouble of rearing it?
“He seemed, as may be supposed, unwilling to pursue the subject: but, upon my persevering in my question, replied, ‘Why, yes, sir, I would; but I must have all conveniences. If I had no garden, I would make a shed on the roof, and take it there for fresh air. I should feed it, and wash it much, and with warm water, to please it, not with cold water, to give it pain.’
“Boswell: But, sir, does not heat relax?