Two passengers on Baby's left had endured these escapades with patient and suffering dignity. When a boy is profoundly conscious that he is--well, a man--and yet a blind and unfeeling world conspires to treat him as--well, a child--he must protect himself and assert his position. Which he does, to the delight of everybody with any sense of humour, by refusing indignantly to be kissed by his mother--or at least sisters--in public, by severely checking any natural tendency to enthusiasm about anything except sport, by allowing it to be understood that he has exhausted the last remaining pleasure and is fairly burnt out. Dear boy, and all the time ready to run a mile to see a cavalry regiment drill, and tormented by a secret hankering after the Zoological Gardens. These two had been nice little chaps two years ago, and would be manly fellows two years hence. Meanwhile they were provoking, and required chastisement or regeneration. Baby was to them a “kid,” to be treated with contempt, and when in a paroxysm of delight over the folly of a law paper he had tilted one of the young men's hats, that blase ancient replaced it in position with a bored and weary air. How Baby had taken in the situation I cannot guess, but he had his mind on the lads, and suddenly, while they were sustaining an elaborate unconcern, he flung himself back and crowed--yes, joyfully crowed--with rosy, jocund countenance in the whites of the eyes of the two solemnities. One raised his eyebrows, and the other looked at the roof in despair; but I had hopes, and who could resist this bubbling, chortling mirth? Next minute one chuckles joyfully, and the other tickles Baby just at the right spot below the chin--has a baby at home after all, and loves it--declaring aloud that he is “a jolly little beggar.” Those boys are all right; there is a sound heart below the little affectations, and they are going to be men. This outburst of His Majesty cheered us all mightily, and a young woman at the top of the'bus catching his eye, waved her hand to him, with a happy smile. Brown glove, size six and a quarter, perhaps six, much worn, and jacket also not of yesterday; but everything is well made, and in perfect taste. Milk-white teeth, hazel eyes. Grecian nose, what a winsome girl!--and let me see, she takes off a glove--yes, is wearing an engagement ring: a lucky fellow, for she must be good with those eyes and that merry smile. Daughter of a doctor or clergyman who died before he could provide for his family; a teacher, one guesses, and to-day off duty, going to meet her fiancé in the city; and then the three--her mother, that dear woman with hair turning grey--will go upon the river, and come home in the sweet summer evening, full of content. As soon as he gets a rise in the office they will marry, and she will also have her gift, as every woman should. But where am I now?--let that Baby bear the blame.