The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, February 4, 1900, Page 9

THE SUNDAY CALL. OLD YOURSELF FIRMLY IN THE CHAIR WITH BOTH HANDS.. AND THE. TELEGRAMS,Z I e i . too. You were ame ¥ flagstoche. He | 1 you have never | You are even | ink what _\'ou( f Th t people .on the street d at busi- be able to attend to m ness for ho you will be kept busy answering have | Some- If it isn't too late you might father about it. And just then vou have cleven brothers and | twelith child in your falher'sr ons. And jokes. Well, people will talk about for a few days now. e war. on earth could have had such a reassuring ! n Yo t For about thi 1 out yourself for so k to your nmormal stature as ) as B. Y. (which is by interpreta- | named Adam had a boy | ther. *Tisn't so much of a | And just as you are re. | d beginning to think pleas- | her mother will sweep swiitly ere you are sitting. Do not She never heard of yot Her youngest son—the | always called him “the | feet 0 1-2 inches on his | ly 5 feet 5 1-4 when you Y ber how you felt last you broke through the ice . As you catch your ber that in the past gene- like your mother and hers bore families The mother of that day didn’t go clucking th one pullet, as though she had just been | satisfactory topic, yourself, the nurse will glide noise- to run the solar system while Providence took a | lessly through the room. She is a bachelor maid her- ed rest. And just as you are recovering from | self. This shock is final. You will not recover for shock, and are once more beginning to think | hours. Still, it is difficult to keep your thoughts from d pleasantly upon that most important and | yourself and you will come around to yourself by and by. g when ame way sp you reme . Pflagstoche Bawley Jr. COPYR\GHT 900, -- gY THE PRESS PUBLISHING C2. THE NEW YORK WORLD.—~ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. YOU WILL BE KEPT BUSY ANSWERING CONGRATULATIONS.. wWiILL SWEEP SWIFT- 1YY THROUGH THE ROOM. &y VA o i i I "ie vou swiLL BE ! 1 VERY QUIET AND GOOD | YOU MAY COME IN JUST | FOR A MINUTEL... | You'll name the boy for both of you—blend your names | te r, and—just then you remember that his father w a Hickory Democrat and med s boy Polk d you are a red-hot. Repyblican; that won't ow'll name him for your . favorite uncle, 1 is an old bachelor and will never have any | children to name for him: Gabriel 'Bawley won't be | so all-killing bad, aiter all. K. Gabriel or Gabriel | Knudd? Oh, well, you'll fix it this way. Somebody | opens the door and says softly that if you will be very [ quiet and good you may come in just for a minute. As l you_rise the rather disturbing thought comes o your | pleasant reverie that maybe she might have a wish about ‘the boy's name. Oh, yes—to be sure—well, of | you hope she won’t' insist on naming him for h ‘famx]y but, of course, if she wants—and by time | you are at her side. | Your boy’s mother. You bend down to kiss a white \ face as you might lift your own face to an angel's. You | have seen the love-light in your sweetheart's eyes; you have seen the truer love, touched with devotion, that glowed in your young wife's eyes. You mever before saw the light that is shining like starlight in tl mother’s eyes. You don't know whéther it is a prayer l'or a blessing that is throbbing in your heart as yom } kneel by her side. You see nothing but her. The | faintly smiling lips whisper softly to you: “Don’t you | see ‘our baby?” ‘And then you do s nestled in her | arms, cradled on her breast, a wee, d dimipled, rose- | leaf atom of humanity—her- boy. eart that wi 7 g 2 | be strong for the storms of fof a cousin who is rich enough to conciliate, but his | patient in its troubles. A | name is “Gad,” and t would never do. You run over | out because of your mistak your !f:mthers._ but if )]'nu n:nnlcdl ]lil!ll ir[:r Poné all the | faults; that will ache with sorr g rest of your sisters-in-law would feel slighted. Y. se yo v en a bli And, of course, the boy must have a name right ‘*gr;\ndf'a(h{‘r. now? Jt would please the olgd gen!len?:r:‘ F::f}?e: yNunt?\ain; ?:r" 4 away. You will name him for yourself at once, Knudd | mightily, but then you happen to remember that he has | son> No, indeed. [ Still, your father might be | been dead half a dozen years, and any pleasant little laugh, sometimes, at a pleased to have a grandson named for him. Ezekiel is a | attention of yours— Well, now, you don’t have to | triumphal procession. Bt we find naught but jest- good old name. and somehow it just fits your father. | keep within the line of family names. There's a friend | ing for a birth we are fools who would have giggled be- But it doesn’t seem to rhyme with Knudd Pfilagstoche. | of yours, an old schoolmate, a business associate, and | hind our hands while the shepherds knelt at the manger Then everybody would call the boy “Zeke,” You think ;.mighty nice fellow, too; he would be glad and flattered. | of Bethlehem. leader and an -ignorant about it, then, is there, erstand how fmen might because that may be a