On the 22nd of March, 1841, the following advertisement appeared in the _Times_ and the _Morning Post_:--“On the 20th instant, at Duvernay Villa, P--rk V--ll--ges, R--g--nt’s P--rk, the lady of Edward Sk--n--st--n, Esq., of a daughter.” And quite early on the morning of the day mentioned in the advertisement, anybody passing our house might have seen my dear mother tying up our knocker with a white kid glove. My baby was the loveliest tiddy ickle sing of a ducks-o’-diamonds that I think I ever saw in all my life--and, thank Heaven! all its little limbs were straight, and it hadn’t a single blemish upon it--if, indeed, I except some strange marks it had on one side of its beautiful little neck, and which I told nurse I was as certain as certain could be was a letter and some figures; for I could make out a perfect F, and a 4 and a 2, and when I cast it up in my own mind, I remembered this was exactly what that impudent, big-whiskered monkey of a policeman, who had frightened me so by winking at me, had got printed on the collar of his coat. At first, I was rather vexed that it wasn’t a boy; for, to tell the truth, I had set my heart upon having one. When, however, I came to turn it over in my mind, I wasn’t at all sorry that it was a girl, for she would be such a nice companion for me when she grew up, and, of course, would take all the trouble of the house off my hands. Besides, I do think boys are such Turks, and so difficult for a woman to manage, so that, as it was a mere toss-up between the two, I do think, if I had had a choice in the matter, I should have cried “woman” after all.