But one morning, when she was ten weeks old, Susy began to play with a
plaything. What do you think it was? Why, her own little hand! She felt
of it, lifted it up and looked at it, tasted of it, and admired it very
much. A grave judge, sitting on his bench, and looking as wise as
Solomon, could hardly look graver or wiser than Susy did when she first
found out she had two little hands. How she turned them over, and
tangled up the tiny fingers, and twisted and doubled them! Now she
thought she had found out what those little things were for, that had
been doing nothing but slap and scratch and grow fat. Why, they were to
play with, to be sure! And she never would have to cry for them or get
up to look for them, for there they were, always close by, and so nice
and soft! So Susy played with her hands, and cooed to them, and told
them stories in Greek, or Latin, or Dutch, nobody knows, and was quite
cheery and happy.
Her mamma was very much pleased to see Susy playing with her hands, and
after a time she offered her a little piece of paper. Susy looked at it
and wanted to take it. But her hands did not know how; all they were
good for was to play with each other. But they wanted to learn to hold
things for Susy, and tried very hard, every day, until at last they did
learn to hold her rattle for her, and then an orange, and then a bunch
of keys. Nice little servants! Don't you think so? And by this time Susy
made a great discovery. She found out that she had two feet of her own,
and thought it would be a good plan to get one of them into her mouth.
She worked very hard, before she succeeded, and was such a busy little
baby that she could hardly spare time to eat her breakfast. I suppose
she thought all those fat little feet were made for, was just for her to
play with; just as she had thought about her hands.
Perhaps you would like to see a letter that Susy wrote to her little
cousin about these times. I rather think she must have got her mamma,
or some body, to write it for her.
MY DEAR COUSIN:
Since I last wrote you, I have grown a good deal, for I am now six
months old. I can not sit alone yet, for when I try, I fall over
sideways. But with a pillow behind me, I can sit up very well, and
play with my toys. I have an old basket half full of playthings,
about which I will tell you. First I have an ivory ring, with a
blue string in it; but I don't think much of that. Then I have a
large glass stopper that came out of a vinegar cruet. Thirdly I
have two spools tied together, and fastened to them, some how, is a
whole piece of tape that I snatched out of my mamma's basket, and
sucked till she said it was good for nothing, and I might as well
keep it. Fourthly I have a cork that used to be in a bottle of
something sweet, for it tastes very good: I am fond of this cork,
and lie on the floor and play with it, just as a cat plays with a
mouse. I have also a half dollar with a hole in it, that my
grandmamma gave me; but I always cry when I play with it, for it is
so hard it hurts my mouth. I have a great many rags that my mamma
has given me. When she cuts out my little frocks, she gives me the
pieces that are left, and some are white, some pink, and some blue.
You see I am going to wear short frocks pretty soon. But my best
playthings are two red sticks that were a part of an old fan your
mamma left here. The other day I was lying on the floor, and I
thought I would see how far I could get one of them down my throat.
When I had pushed it a good way, I began to cry. My mamma caught
me up and pulled it out, but my throat bled and was sore, so I
guess I won't push it in so far, next time.
Sometimes I go and pay a visit to our old cat and her three
kittens. I talk to them as loud as I can, but they do not seem to
understand what I say. And they don't like it when I try to put
them in my mouth.
I am sorry to say that as I increase in wisdom I grow in
naughtiness. I always cry all the time mamma is washing and
dressing me, and am very angry with her, for I don't like to be
washed. And the moment I see her take out my basket at night, so as
to undress me and put me to bed, I scream with all my might, and
never stop till I feel something soft in my mouth. Last night as I
lay on the floor playing with my beloved cork, mamma came behind
me and unfastened all my clothes, so that time I did not cry. I
have two feet that I find very handy to kick with when I am angry,
and two hands that pick up my toys when I want to play, and two
eyes that show me pictures and other pretty things, and that never
get any rest except when I am asleep. And if you ever answer this
letter, I have two ears with which I hear it read.
I am a very good baby when I wake in the morning. I lie in bed a
good while, playing with my feet, or any thing else I can get hold
of. Sometimes I untie mamma's cap strings and sometimes I scratch
and pull her cheeks and chin. Very often I almost pull papa's nose
off his face, for I don't know what he wants of it when he is fast
asleep. Doesn't this remind you of old times, three or four years
ago, when you were a baby? If you ever come here I shall not know
what to do to amuse you, for I can not talk. I should scratch your
face and pull your hair, and put my fingers in your eyes; I don't
know any better, I am such a little baby. I am very tired now, and
must bid you good by; but one of these days I will write you
another letter.
Your little cousin,
SUSY.