When he at last paused for breath, his wife rose, and taking his hand led him to the back, where a short curtain covered a recess. "I, too, dear," she said proudly, "have not been idle." And pulling back the curtain she displayed six cradles occupied by six large baby dolls! And that again recalls another, quite in the same line. One day a gentleman walking down a street observed a little boy seated on a doorstep. Going up to him, he said, "Well, my little chap, how is it you are sitting outside on the doorstep, when I see through the window all the other young folks inside playing games and having a good time? Why aren't you inside joining in the fun?" "I guess, stranger, that I'm in this game." replied the boy. "But how can you be, when you are out on the doorstep, and the others are all inside?" "Oh, I'm in the show right enough. You see, we're playing at being married. I'm the baby, and I'm not born yet!" The late Dr. Norman M'cLeod--the great Norman--rejoiced in telling a story about two ragged children whom he found busy on the side of a country road one day, working with some stiffened mud, which they had carefully scraped together. "What's this you are making?" he asked. One of the children replied that it was a kirk. "A kirk! Ay, and where's the door?" "There it's." "And the pulpit?" "That's it." "And the minister?" The little one hesitated, then replied, very innocently--"We hadna dirt enough left to mak' a minister." The minister, of course--and the weaker his character he should be the more careful--must always approach children with caution if he hopes to come out of the interview with his reputation unscathed. I have heard or read of a member of the cloth--a supreme egoist--who was visiting at a house when but the mother and her little girl--a mere child--were at home. As the self-esteemed great man was holding the mother in conversation, he noticed with pride that the child, who reposed on the hearthrug with a school-slate tilted on her knee, was making furtive glances up at his face, and returning her attention regularly to the slate, on which she kept scrawling with a pencil. When at length she stopped and looked serious, "Well, my dear," he exclaimed, "have you been trying to draw my portrait?" She did not reply, "Come," he continued, coaxingly, "you must let me see it." "Oh," interposed the proud mother, "she's awfu' clever at the drawin'." This made the minister still more eager to see the work, and he repeated his request for an exposure; but the child clutched the slate only more tightly to her breast and did not look up. "She's aye sae shy, ye ken," interceded the mother, as she reached her hand to procure the work of art by main force. It was then the little one found her tongue, and she exclaimed--"Oh, it wasna very like him, and I just put a tail till't, and ca'd it a doggie." The _denouement_ leaves nothing to be desired.