nder heart and a brave spirit
under the rough jacket of his little serving-man. But he never called
him that; for remembering the cheerfulness, self-denial, honesty, and
loyalty to those he loved, shown by the boy, the good doctor proved his
respect for the virtues all men should covet, wherever they are found,
and always spoke of Jack with a smile, as 'My Little Gentleman.'

_BACK WINDOWS._

As I sit working at my back window, I look out on a long row of other
people's back windows; and it is quite impossible for me to help seeing
and being interested in my neighbours. There are a good many children in
those houses; and though I don't know one of their names, I know them a
great deal better than they think I do. I never spoke a word to any of
them, and never expect to do so; yet I have my likes and dislikes among
them, and could tell them things that they have said and done, which
would astonish them very much, I assure you.

First, the babies,--for there are three: the aristocratic baby, the
happy-go-lucky baby, and the forlorn baby. The aristocratic baby lives
in a fine, well-furnished room, has a pretty little mamma, who wears
white gowns, and pink ribbons in her cap; likewise, a fond young papa,
who evidently thinks _this_ the most wonderful baby in Boston. There is
a stout, motherly lady, who is the grandma, I fancy, for she is always
hovering about 'the dear' with cups, blankets, or a gorgeous red worsted
bird to amuse it. Baby is a plump, rosy, sweet-faced little creature,
always smiling and kissing its hand to the world in general. In its
pretty white frocks, with its own little pink or blue ribbons, and its
young mamma proudly holding it up to see and be seen, my aristocratic
neighbour has an easy life of it, and is evidently one of the little
lilies who do nothing but blossom in the sunshine.

The happy-go-lucky baby is just able to toddle; and I seldom pull up my
curtain in the morning without seeing him at his window in his yellow
flannel night-gown, taking a look at the weather. No matter whether it
rains or shines, there he is, smiling and nodding, and looking so merry,
that it is evident he has plenty of sunshine bottled up in his own
little heart for private use. I depend on seeing him, and feel as if the
world was not right until this golden little sun rises to shine upon me.
He don't seem to have any one to take care of him, but trots about all
day, and takes care of himself. Sometimes he i