Early the next spring an important personage made his appearance in Paved Street—no less than a son to Mr. Wendell. He was, as is generally the case with the first, the wonder of the age. Madam Fayerweather declared, “He was the beautifullest baby that ever was seen.” Madam Brinley said, “It was certainly a remarkably fine infant;” while Mr. Fayerweather declared it was the exact counterpart of all the babies he ever saw. I am sorry to say that Mr. Wendell did not comport himself with all the dignity to be expected from his new character; for he only laughed as if he would kill himself, whenever his son was presented to him; but could not be prevailed upon by any means, to take it into his arms, for fear of its falling to pieces; to the great scandal of the little wizened old woman from Marblehead, in whose lap it usually lay, its long robes touching the floor; she averred, “It was a sin and a shame that its sir wouldn’t take to it more, when it was as much like him as two peas in a pod—it was the most knowinist and the most remarkablest baby ever she seed in her baarn days.” When the young gentleman was in its fourth week, his mother, according to custom, received visitors in her chamber. In these visits, scarcely less state was observed than in those to the bride; but matrons and elderly ladies were alone privileged to make them. If any young damsel had the hardihood to make her appearance within the sacred precincts, though under shelter of her mother’s wing, she was immediately pronounced as cut out for an old maid—and the oracle seldom failed of fulfillment. The first day on which Mrs. Wendell sat up for company, when she was just attired in a handsome undress, made expressly for the occasion, and was seated in state in her easy chair, while nurse was preparing the baby to display him to the best advantage, Scipio thrust in his black head at the door with a “He! ho! he! Missy Amy, Scip’ got suthen for de picaninny.” Here Madam Fayerweather’s voice was heard reproving him for going before her, when the door was thrown open, and in she came with Scipio after her, bearing a beautiful wicker cradle, lined with white satin. Madam unfolded the cradle-quilt with great pomp and circumstance; and now the grand secret came out—Amy’s wondering eyes beheld the great work—the very work! which had employed all her aunt’s moments of leisure for upward of three years.