ar
Thomas with me and our dear little Bob! as I sit on one knee, and baby
on the other, and as he dances us both about. I often wish that we had
Sir Joshua, or some great painter, to depict the group; for sure it is
the prettiest picture in the whole world, to see three such loving merry
people.

"Dear baby is the most lovely little creature that CAN POSSIBLY
BE,--the very IMAGE of papa; he is cutting his teeth, and the delight
of EVERYBODY. Nurse says that, when he is older he will get rid of his
squint, and his hair will get a GREAT DEAL less red. Doctor Bates is
as kind, and skilful, and attentive as we could desire. Think what a
blessing to have had him! Ever since poor baby's birth, it has never had
a day of quiet; and he has been obliged to give it from three to four
doses every week;--how thankful ought we to be that the DEAR THING is
as well as it is! It got through the measles wonderfully; then it had
a little rash; and then a nasty hooping-cough; and then a fever, and
continual pains in its poor little stomach, crying, poor dear child,
from morning till night.

"But dear Tom is an excellent nurse; and many and many a night has he
had no sleep, dear man! in consequence of the poor little baby. He walks
up and down with it FOR HOURS, singing a kind of song (dear fellow, he
has no more voice than a tea-kettle), and bobbing his head backwards and
forwards, and looking, in his nightcap and dressing-gown, SO DROLL. Oh,
Eliza! how you would laugh to see him.

"We have one of the best nursemaids IN THE WORLD,--an Irishwoman, who is
as fond of baby almost as his mother (but that can NEVER BE). She takes
it to walk in the park for hours together, and I really don't know why
Thomas dislikes her. He says she is tipsy, very often, and slovenly,
which I cannot conceive;--to be sure, the nurse is sadly dirty, and
sometimes smells very strong of gin.

"But what of that?--these little drawbacks only make home more pleasant.
When one thinks how many mothers have NO nursemaids: how many poor dear
children have no doctors: ought we not to be thankful for Mary Malowney,
and that Dr. Bates's bill is forty-seven pounds? How ill must dear baby
have been, to require so much physic!

"But they are a sad expense, these dear babies, after all. Fancy, Eliza,
how much this Mary Malowney costs us. Ten shillings every week; a glass
of brandy or gin at dinner; three pint-bottles of Mr. Thrale's best
porter every day,--making twenty-one