That Little Hand
So soft an' helpless an'- purty, a-h'oldin' on to me, That little hand's the nicest thing I ever see! An' the young one hangin' back'ards (he's such a little one), An' makin' me stoop to his questions 'bout ' everything under the sun. An' time, wuth so much to a.farme-, goin' lickety split ! An' I lazin 3 'round with a baby ; How foolish a man can git ! Them litt.le fingers, so slick an' pink as the roses out in the bed, . " Make me tingle an' creep all over, and glad to be druv round an' led. . They hoid onto tne so trustin', as if I'd a'ins do right ; • ■ ' I lelJ yon I'm on my honor when that little chai>'d iv si-^ht. It's a temptin' world, but whatever a man niigtit do alone, The love of right sprouts in him when he has a (jhild of his own. Why. when I'm up to the swerin' pint, them fingers on my cheekStroke down the ugly temper till I'm blamed if I cau speak. There's somethin' curus in 'em, an' in his big blue eyes ;' They make me kinder pity folks I use' ter hate an' despise. How they stretch out of a mornin', afpre you can fairly see, . In search of poppy's whiskera for a little early spree ! To be started up when a man's so tired he don't know what he's about Would make anyone but a dad as mad as all git 1 out. An' then at night they go creepin' into my big rough fist. An' the fair little face is put up to be patted an' cuddled an' kist ; An' the purty shoulders slip out o' the frock — he hain't no mother, you see ; It's nigh three years since she died an' left him to me. An' when I git round to turn in, there he lies asleep in his nest. Ican't help drawin' him clo=t anl huggin' him up to my breast. An' he wakes just enough to say ' poppy,' an' slip his hand into mine. An' his touch goes through my veins like a drink o' strong drink.
A patient at Wellington Hospital, having fallen in love with one of the lady nurses, didn't want to leave, so complained of severe internal pains. The ■doctors, who had thought him cured, ordered hot poultices to the parts affected, and were non-plussed on seeing the report of his extraordinary temperature. By and by, it was found that he had a trick of warming up the thermometer with the poultices, and when thus bowled out he was discharged cured. He now goes to visit another patient in the same ward. . ' I've quite decided, dear, to wear . Some form of beard, 1 said he; ' What style of whiskers do you think Would most becoming be?' One glance at him, and instantly The maiden did declare — ' Why, " mutton chops," of course ; you know You've Buch a sheepish air.' A little incident that occurred at the Municipal Association's annual meeting in Wellington the other day was hugely enjoyed by the delegates. Mr Phillips, the energetic Town Clerk of Auckland, brought forward a proposal which most of the members disagreed with. The chairman asked if there was a seconder, whereupon someone suggested that the Mayor of Auckland might come to the rescue. Mr Crowther rose with alacrity and strongly denounced the proposal, asserting that the Auckland Council was not desirous of getting it passed. His Worship was thoroughly in earnest, and the other members were convulsed' with laughter at the spectacle of the two Auckland representatives pulling in opposite directions. A seconder was eventually found, but the resolution was negatived, much to Mr Crowther's relief.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TO18920716.2.28
Bibliographic details
Observer, Volume XI, Issue 707, 16 July 1892, Page 11
Word Count
614That Little Hand Observer, Volume XI, Issue 707, 16 July 1892, Page 11
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