My circumstances
have always been humble. I say this in no spirit of complaint. We have
very much to be thankful for, and we are particularly grateful for the
blessing which heaven has bestowed upon us in the person of our dear
child--our daughter who comes from school to-night to spend Thanksgiving
with us and with our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Blossom. I must tell you how
we became acquainted with the Blossoms.

When our baby was two years old I used to sit of mornings, before going
to my work, on the front steps, watching the baby playing on the
sidewalk. This pleasantest half-hour of the day I divided between the
little one and my pipe. One morning, as I sat there smoking and as the
little one was toddling to and fro on the sidewalk, a portly,
nice-looking old gentleman came down the street, and, as luck would have
it, the baby got right in his path, and before I could get to her she
tangled herself all up with the old gentleman's legs and cane. The old
gentleman seemed very much embarrassed, but, bless your soul! the baby
liked it!

"A pretty child--a beautiful child!" said the old gentleman, and then he
inquired: "Boy or girl?"

"Girl," says I, and I added: "Two years old and weighs thirty pounds."

"That must be a great deal for a little girl to weigh," said the old
gentleman, and I saw that his eyes lingered lovingly and yearningly upon
the child. I am sure he wanted to say more, but all at once, as if he
suddenly recollected himself, he glanced furtively up the street, and
then, turning as suddenly the other way, he resumed his course downtown.
I thought to myself that he was a kindly old gentleman, a trifle queer,
perhaps, but of a gentle nature.

Three or four times within a week after that a similar experience with
this old gentleman befell me and the baby. He would greet her cheerily;
sometimes he would pat her head, and I saw that his heart warmed toward
her. But all the time he talked with us he seemed to act as if he feared
he was being watched, and he left us abruptly--sometimes breaking away in
the middle of a sentence as if he was afraid he might say something he
ought not to say. At last, however, I learned that his name was Blossom,
and that Mrs. Blossom and he lived alone in a fine house up yonder in a
more fashionable part of our street. In an outburst of confidence one
morning he told me that he was very fond of children, and that he felt
that much was gone out of his life because no