GOT THE DESIRED BABY FOOD.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XXVIII, Issue 3604, 30 November 1905, Page 4

GOT THE DESIRED BABY FOOD.

Patter ol a Starring Tsaaciter Skew* He 1* Something ol a Diplomat.

“What shall we do for the baby?” was often asked In a certain West side household recently. And certainly the baby needed something. It was pale and puny and seemed halfstarved. The child was at the intermediary age when its natural food was insufficient, and still it was too young for beefsteak and potatoes, says the Chicago Inter Ocean. ‘‘The child must hare some baby food,” said the mother. “Yes,” said the father, “he could have it if I were rich. It would cost $3 a week at least to supply him with haby food, and I get only $lO a week.”

“But you are not going to let him starve?" she returned.

“No, X will manage to get it," he said. “If you will press my suit, dear, I will try to get some food tomorrow."

“What has the suit to do with it?” she asked.

“You will see,” ho said.

So next day the father of the starving young one went down town. He wore his Sunday suit that had done service for two years. When he entered one of the big drug stores he looked to be worth at least $5,000 a year. To a clerk he said: “I called to see about baby foods. Our child is in need of some auxiliary nourishment, but I do not know what to get for him. My wife says our cook told the second girl that you might, probably furnish us with some samples of the various kinds of foods you carry in stock. If you can do that we will try them and then I can order a supply of the kind that best agrees with the child.” “Certainly,” said the clerk, and & package containing samples of seven kinds of baby food was forthcoming. The quantity was sufficient to last a month. When the supply is exhausted he will go to another drug store and tell the clerk what the cook told the* second girl.

Pity the Poor Rich. Two ladies were discussing the spe«tacular existence of a very rich man. ‘‘Yes, my dear,” said one, “I knew him when he worked for Uncle Joe for three dollars a week. Of course that is the price fixed for all millionaires who have made their money, and it does make one tired, but this is literally true. And now he has a house in New York, another at Newport, a farm on Long Island, an estate in Lenox and cottages at Tuxedo and Aiken, besides a yacht and a private car that is the apotheosis of leather and gilding.” “Where is his home?" asked the other. "Home? He hasn’t any. When they efet as rich as that they’re no more home instinct than milk-cans.”— Youth’s Companion.