Monsieur, Madame, and Bebe -- V

castors off the furniture, and evinces a decided hostility to crockery; in a word, when he is a man, it is then that the affection of a father for his son becomes love. He feels himself invaded by a

ove all the weaknesses and all the greatnesses of humanity. Vanity, abnegation, pride,

little creature who belongs to you, you reconstruct your own past; you resuscitate, and are born again in him. You say to yourself: "I will spare him such and such a vexation which I had to suffer, I will clear from his path such and such a stone over which

ongest and purest of all? What matter if a limpid stream springs up between two paving stones? Are we to be bl

ow like you he is!" The poor man may hesitate at saying yes, but I defy him not to smi

o, it is that you may reply in astonishm

a visible tie between him and his work? Is it not his signature, his t

hares your tastes, your habits, your ways. He assumes a deep voice to be like papa, asks for your braces, sighs before your boots, and sits down with admiration on your hat. He protects his mamma when he goes out with her, and scolds the dog, although he is very much afraid of him; all t

shall not be afraid in the dark, because it is silly to be afraid in the dar

t did you

ust as pa

e for him an ideal, a model, the type of all th

its sincerity, and you feel all the more unworthy of such frank admiration. You conso

, then, against them. Yes, no doubt, but I ask you what strength of mind is not needed by a poor man to undeceive his baby, to

iends. Crossing the road, the little fellow caught sight of a policeman. He examined him with respect, and then turning

our intimacy would hav

aby, like papa." Our life is the threshold of h

this little heart opens, and establish yourself in it so thoroughly, that at the moment when the child is able to

will take away a scrap of your life, contract the circle of interests and pleasures in which you live; your mind by degrees will lose its vigor, and ask for rest, and as you live less and less by the mind, you will live more and more by t

grateful. Do not reckon that he will be grateful to you for your solicitude, your dreams for his future, the cost of his nursing, and the splendid dowry that you are amassing for him; such gratitude would require from his little brain too complicated a calculation, besides social ideas as yet unknown t

ld out his little arms to you, crying: "Do it again." And the recollection of the pleasure you have given him becoming impressed upon his mind, he will soon say to himself: "No one amuses me so well

uestions, which are the echo of his endless dreams, and let yourself be pulled by the beard to imitate a horse. All this is kindness, but a

stere prestige, but will gain the deep and lasting influence that affection

for that which you might rightly insist upon having, and await everything from his heart if you have known how to touch it. Carefully avoid such ugly words as discipline, passive obedience and c

ll things, positive logic. Profit by all this. There are unjust and harsh words which remain graven on a child's heart, and which he remembers all his life. Reflect that, in your baby, there is a man w

clumsy pressure; for I will not believe in natural vice. Among evil instincts there is always a good one, of which an arm can be made to combat the others. This requires, I know, extreme kindness, perfect tact, and unlimited confid

rdens of the Tuileries; dabbling among the ducklings, or building hills of sand beside well-dressed mammas-babies are charming. In both classes there is the same grace, the same unembarrassed movements, the same comical seriousness, the same carelessness

s power of imagination, such as will not again be found at any period of life. There is more real poetry in the brain of these dear loves than in twenty epics. They are surprised and uns

the real from the imaginary; to correct, by observation, the errors of their too ardent imagination; to unravel a chaos, and during this gigantic task to render the tongue supple and strengthen the staggering little legs, in short, to become a man. If ever there was a curio

ich understands the twittering of birds, ascribes thoughts to flowers, and souls to dolls, which believes in far-off realms, where the trees are sugar, the fields chocolate, and the rivers syr

same. In both cases there is the same necessity of idealization, the same tendency to personify the unknown