THE INFANT PHILOSOPHER.

I HAD heard of his existence before, but had never had the pleasure of seeing him till last Saturday, when we met in the horse-car. He got in at the 'Port, accompanied by his grandmother and a lively young aunt. He was pale and intellectual-looking, and was gifted with what our grandmothers call an inquiring mind. He opened fire when we reached the railroad-crossing, with "See the nasty water!" uttered in a piercing treble that punctured the drum of the ear like a sharp needle. Encouraged by the success of his first attempt, he continued the conversation during the rest of the trip. His mind at first grappled with the nautical questions of the day. "See dere." "Yes, dear," from the grandmother; "that is a ship." "Why don't it tip over?" "Oh, because it's balanced by the mast." "But the little boat don't tip over." "Yes, yes," a little impatiently, "that's a tug-boat." "Why don't the men tumble off into the water?" "Oh, don't ask so many questions!" His conversation then became rather personal, and, staring intently at me, he said, "Aunty, aunty, ain't that little boy got pretty blue pants?" Blushes and "Hush, hush!" from the unfortunate relative, and a pervasive smile among the passengers. "Where do you s'pose he goes to school?" continued he. Reply inaudible. "Do they spank little boys at Harvard Collig?" The smiles at this period became audible, but as I have read the "Robbers" in my German elective, and sat under the sarcastic professor of themes, I did not blush. On his aunt's murmured reply, he proceeded, "What is a Deene? Does he eat up the naughty boys, or carry 'em off in a sack?" A gentleman who was leaving the car remarked that "they were generally too 'tough' to be swallowed, and had to be sacked."

Here I fortunately ceased to be the object of his attention, which was henceforth devoted to Grynde, who was reading his Kant in the further corner. "Ain't he got funny hair?" said he, pointing at his victim. "His mamma forgot to put a pin in HIS ribbon," smoothing a blue bow at his own throat. A few remarks then ensued between his aunt and grandmother, and then followed, "Oh, I know Mrs. Smith." "Yes, dear." "Yes, and she's just got a little boy; God sent him down from heaven." Then reflectively looking at me, "Did HE come down from heaven?" Here his relatives judged it best to walk the rest of the way, and left the car.