Poor Tom! No wonder he grows flat--chested.

"Guesh you's a ky--baby," suggested Toddie.

This imputation I bore with meekness, but ventured to remark that
it was bed-time. After allowing a few moments for the usual
expressions of dissent, I staggered up--stairs with Toddie in my
arms, and Budge on my back, both boys roaring in refrain of the
negro hymn:--

"I'm a rolling through an Unfriendly World."

The offer of a stick of candy to whichever boy was first
undressed, caused some lively disrobing, after which each boy
received the prize. Budge bit a large piece, wedged it between his
cheek and his teeth, closed his eyes, folded his hands on his
breast, and prayed:--

"Dear Lord, bless papa an' mamma, an' Toddie an' me, an' that
turtle Uncle Harry found: and bless that lovely lady Uncle Harry
goes riding with an' make 'em take me too, an' bless that nice old
lady with white hair, that cried, and said I was a smart boy.
Amen."

Toddie sighed as he drew his stick of candy from his lips; then he
shut his eyes and remarked:

"Dee Lord, blesh Toddie, an' make him good boy, an' blesh zem
ladies zat told me to say it aden;" the particular "it" referred
to being well understood by at least three adults of my