. California agriculturist and live stock journal. Agriculture -- California; Livestock -- California; Animal industry -- California. California Agriculturist and Live Stock pljicttic. Nly Neighbor's Baby. CKOSS in my neighbor's window, With its drapings of eutin and lace ^^" I sue 'iieath its flowing ringlets, A Ijiiby 6 innocent face. His feet in crimson slipuers. Are tapping the polished glass. And the crowd in the streets look upward. And nod and smile as they pass. Just here in my cottage window, Catching flies in the snu. With a patched and faded apron. Stands my own littl
. California agriculturist and live stock journal. Agriculture -- California; Livestock -- California; Animal industry -- California. California Agriculturist and Live Stock pljicttic. Nly Neighbor's Baby. CKOSS in my neighbor's window, With its drapings of eutin and lace ^^" I sue 'iieath its flowing ringlets, A Ijiiby 6 innocent face. His feet in crimson slipuers. Are tapping the polished glass. And the crowd in the streets look upward. And nod and smile as they pass. Just here in my cottage window, Catching flies in the snu. With a patched and faded apron. Stands my own little one. His face is as pure and handsome As the baby's over the way. And he keeps my heart from breaking At my toiling, every day. Sometimes when the day is ended. And I sit in the dusk to rest, "With the face of my sleeping darling Hugged close to my lonely breast, I pray that my neighbor's baby May not catch heaven's roses all. But that some may crown the forehead Of my loved one, as they fall. And when I draw the stockings From his little weary feet, And kiss the rosy dimples In his limbs, so round and sweet, I think of the dainty garments. Some little children wear, And that my God witholds them From mine so pure and fair. May God forgive my envy,— I knew not what I said; My heart is crushed and troubled, My neighbors boy is dead ! I saw the little coffin As they carried it out to-day ;— A mother's heart is breaking In the mansion over the way. The light is fair in my window : The flowers bloom at my door ; My boy is chasingltbe sunbeams That dance on the cottage floor. The roses of health are blooming On my darling's cheek to-day. But the baby is gone from the window Of the mansion over the way. Two Ways of Feeding Our Babies. BY "; The natural is the best -wiiy of course ; with the mother's milk -and yet I have seen more than one bottle-fed-baby that surpassed in appearance and healthfulness, the breast- fid one—simply because the latter child w
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