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Updated: June 6, 2025
The two little stalwart fellows outside, who received my carriage may I hope to know them better? No, not here," she interposed, quickly; "it might excite you still more. Later on, later on. This little citizen of the world interests us most for the moment." She bent over the cradle and arranged the baby-clothes. "He has quite a knowing little face," she said, jestingly.
Her baby-clothes, when the last daughter had outgrown them, were given to a member of the Mission for his child. He will never forget taking the little bundle home to his wife and turning over the tiny things. 'I had often heard Mrs. Booth preach, he said, 'but those baby-clothes preached a louder sermon to me and my wife than ever her words had done.
I thought she'd been led wrong, and got into trouble, but if she was going to her friends, it would be a good work to keep her out of further harm." The witness then stated that in the night a child was born, and she identified the baby-clothes then shown to her as those in which she had herself dressed the child. "Those are the clothes.
They then asked the poor boy what he would like best as a reward for what he had done; and he said that if they would shut him up in that room, and lock the door tight, and lose the key, he would be happy all the days of his life. All that time he never had any clothes but his baby-clothes, and they got pretty sticky before his death.
The gig dandled me up and down in a fashion of which I had been unconscious since I left off baby-clothes; but the drive, through the charming Norman country, over roads which lay among the peaceful meadows like paths amid a park, was altogether delightful.
I sat down and stared at that neatly folded pile of baby-clothes two feet high, a layer-cake of whites and faded blues and pinks. I stared at it, and began to gulp tragically, wallowing in a wave of self-pity. I felt so sorry for myself that I let my flat-iron burn a hole clean through the ironing-sheet, without even smelling it.
A bundle, which, during the excitement, lay on her lap, broke open; and my mother-in-law, like Cleopatra in her roses, stood knee-deep in baby-clothes. In a moment the truth burst upon me. I was unmanned, limp, and disjointed. The shock was too much! A baby Butterby! It is needless for me to remark to married men that the era of prospective paternity is an era of sacrifice.
A lady's collection of baby-clothes, in early years, and of house linen and curtain-fringes in later life, is so very interesting to her own eyes, that she cannot believe but what other people will rejoice to behold it. I would not, however, be held as regarding this tendency as evil. It leads to conversation of some sort among people, and perhaps to a kind of sympathy. Mrs.
"So I did. But they won't let me. They don't want me to give them up." Mamma sat down, as if it was too much for her. "I hope," she said, "you don't talk to Catty or anybody about it." "No, Mamma. I couldn't. They're my secret." "That was all very well when you were a little thing. But a great girl of twelve You ought to be ashamed of yourself." Mamma had gone. She had taken away the baby-clothes.
Farmer's red-haired baby, and Mark in the blue frock in the picture when he was four, and Dank in his white frock and blue sash, and the three very little babies you made up out of your head. Six o'clock was their bed-time. "You'd no business to touch those baby-clothes," Mamma said. The baby-clothes were real.
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