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I hev allus hed a good opinion uv the wimmin folks. I don’t look at ’em as some people do; uv course they’re a necessity–just as men are. Uv course if there warn’t no wimmin folks there wouldn’t be no men folks–leastwise that’s what the medikil books say. But I never wuz much on discussin’ humin economy; what I hev allus thought ‘nd said wuz that wimmin folks wuz a kind uv luxury, ‘nd the best kind, too. Maybe it’s because I hain’t hed much to do with ’em that I’m sot on ’em. Never did get real well acquainted with more’n three or four uv ’em in all my life; seemed like it wuz meant that I shouldn’t hev ’em round me as most men hev. Mother died when I wuz a little tyke, an’ Aunt Mary raised me till I wuz big enuff to make my own livin’. Down here in the Southwest, you see, most uv the girls is boys; there ain’t none uv them civilizin’ influences folks talk uv,–nothin’ but flowers ‘nd birds ‘nd such things as poetry tells about. So I kind uv growed up with the curi’s notion that wimmin folks wuz too good for our part uv the country, ‘nd I hevn’t quite got that notion out’n my head yet.

One time–wall, I reckon ‘t wuz about four years ago–I got a letter frum ol’ Col. Sibley to come up to Saint Louey ‘nd consult with him ’bout some stock int’rests we hed together. Railroad travellin’ wuz no new thing to me. I hed been prutty prosperous,–hed got past hevin’ to ride in a caboose ‘nd git out at every stop to punch up the steers. Hed money in the Hoost’n bank ‘nd used to go to Tchicargo oncet a year; hed met Fill Armer ‘nd shook hands with him, ‘nd oncet the city papers hed a colume article about my bein’ a millionnaire; uv course ‘t warn’t so, but a feller kind uv likes that sort uv thing, you know.

The mornin’ after I got that letter from Col. Sibley I started for Saint Louey. I took a bunk in the Pullman car, like I hed been doin’ for six years past; ‘nd I reckon the other folks must hev thought I wuz a heap uv a man, for every haff-hour I give the nigger ha’f a dollar to bresh me off. The car wuz full uv people,–rich people, too, I reckon, for they wore good clo’es ‘nd criticized the scenery. Jest across frum me there wuz a lady with a big, fat baby,–the pruttiest woman I hed seen in a month uv Sundays; and the baby! why, doggone my skin, when I wuzn’t payin’ money to the nigger, darned if I didn’t set there watchin’ the big, fat little cuss, like he wuz the only baby I ever seen. I ain’t much of a hand at babies, ’cause I hain’t seen many uv ’em, ‘nd when it comes to handlin’ ’em–why, that would break me all up, ‘nd like ‘s not ‘t would break the baby all up too. But it has allus been my notion that nex’ to the wimmin folks babies wuz jest about the nicest things on earth. So the more I looked at that big, fat little baby settin’ in its mother’s lap ‘cross the way, the more I wanted to look; seemed like I wuz hoodooed by the little tyke; ‘nd the first thing I knew there wuz water in my eyes; don’t know why it is, but it allus makes me kind ur slop over to set ‘nd watch a baby cooin’ ‘nd playin’ in its mother’s lap.

“Look a’ hyar, Sam,” says I to the nigger, “come hyar ‘nd bresh me off ag’in! Why ain’t you ‘tendin’ to bizness?”

But it didn’t do no good ‘t all; pertendin’ to be cross with the nigger might fool the other folks in the car, but it didn’t fool me. I wuz dead stuck on that baby–gol durn his pictur’! And there the little tyke set in its mother’s lap, doublin’ up its fists ‘nd tryin’ to swaller ’em, ‘nd talkin’ like to its mother in a lingo I couldn’t understan’, but which the mother could, for she talked back to the baby in a soothin’ lingo which I couldn’t understand, but which I liked to hear, ‘nd she kissed the baby ‘nd stroked its hair ‘nd petted it like wimmin do.