The baby was born in the next house, and of course I was interested, how can one not be interested when one of these little angels becomes imprisoned in the earth form and begins a career that makes one tremble to think of? Meeting the father a few hours later I ask the customary question.

“Another no account girl to be supported,” he said gloomily, and passed on--Woman’s World. A father of experience spoke differently: “My gals never forget me. They married and went away to their own homes: and though they were none of them well-to-do, yet not one of them ever saw the time she wouldn’t steal a dollar from her husband to give to father or mother; but it isn’t so with the boys. They never knew they owed me anything; they never put their hands in their pockets for me: they never laid awake o’ nights thinking how to scrimp household expenses to get me or mother a present like the gals did. And yet when I was araisin’ ‘em I thought one boy was worth a dozen gals.”