and in her two twining arms the baby finds a place to fit him, and falls asleep contentedly in the nest created for him.  It would be thought that woman serves a mysterious apprenticeship to maternity.  Man, on the other hand, is greatly troubled by the birth of a child.  The first wail of the little creature stirs him, but in this emotion there is more astonishment than love.  His affection is not yet born.  His heart requires to reflect and to become accustomed to these fondnesses so new to him.

There is an apprenticeship to be served to the business of a father.  There is none to that of a mother.

If the father is clumsy morally in his love for his firstborn, it must be acknowledged that he is so physically in the manifestation of his fondness.

It is only tremblingly, and with contortions and efforts, that he lifts the slight burden.  He is afraid of smashing the youngster, who knows this, and thence bawls with all the force of his lungs.  He expands more strength, poor man, in lifting up his child than he would in bursting a door open.  If he kisses him, his beard pricks him; if he touches him, his big fingers cause him some disaster.  He has the air of a bear threading a needle.

And yet it must be won, the affection of this poor father, who, at the outset, meets nothing but misadventures; he must be captivated, captured, made to have a taste for the business, and not be left too long to play the part of a recruit.

Nature has provided for it, and the father rises to the rank of corporal the day the baby lisps his first syllables.

It is very sweet, the first lisping utterance of a child, and admirably chosen to move—­the “pa-pa” the little creature first murmurs.  It is strange that the first word of a child should express precisely the deepest and tenderest sentiment of all?

Is it not touching to see that the little creature finds of himself the word that is sure to touch him of whom he stands most in need; the word that means, “I am yours, love me, give me a place in your heart, open your arms to me; you see I do not know much as yet, I have only just arrived, but, already, I think of you, I am one of the family, I shall eat at your table, and bear your name, pa-pa, pa-pa.”

He has discovered at once the most delicate of flatteries, the sweetest of caresses.  He enters on life by a master stroke.

Ah! the dear little love!  “Pa-pa, pa-pa,” I still hear his faint, hesitating voice, I can still see his two coral lips open and close.  We were all in a circle around him, kneeling down to be on a level with him.  They kept saying to him, “Say it again, dear, say it again.  Where is papa?” And he, amused by all these people about him, stretched out his arms, and turned his eyes toward me.

I kissed him heartily, and felt that two big tears hindered me from speaking.

From that moment I was a papa in earnest.  I was christened.