Dear "Mother Monroe," as wise as she was good, and as tender as she was strong, who had nursed two generations of mothers in our village, was engaged at that time, and I was compelled to take an exotic.

I had often watched "Mother Monroe" with admiration, as she turned and twisted my sister's baby.

It lay as peacefully in her hands as if they were lined with eider down.

She bathed and dressed it by easy stages, turning the child over and over like a pancake.

But she was so full of the magnetism of human love, giving the child, all the time, the most consoling assurance that the operation was to be a short one, that the whole proceeding was quite entertaining to the observer and seemingly agreeable to the child, though it had a rather surprised look as it took a bird's-eye view, in quick succession, of the ceiling and the floor.