When he became big enough to sit on the porch of the humble little home,
where he was born, and stare with his great round eyes at the world as
it went by, that world, whether on horseback, in carriage, or on foot,
was sure to smile at the funny-looking baby.
Nick, although born in western Pennsylvania, was as thoroughly Dutch as
if he had first opened his eyes on the banks of the Zuyder Zee, in the
lowlands of Holland. His parents had come from that part of the world
which has produced so many fine scholars and done so much for science
and literature. They talked the language of the Fatherland, although
they occasionally ventured on very broken English for the instruction of
the boy and girl which heaven had given them.
When Nick was a year old, he seemed as broad as he was long, and his
round, red cheeks, big, honest eyes, and scanty hair, which stood out in
every direction, always brought a smile to whomsoever looked at him.
"That's the Dutchest baby I ever saw!" exclaimed a young man, who, as he
threw back his head and laughed, expressed the opinion of about every
one that stopped to admire the youngster.
When we add that Nick was remarkably good natured, his popularity will
be understood. Days and weeks passed without so much as a whimper being
heard from him. If his mother forgot she was the owner of such a prize,
and allowed him to remain on the porch until he was chilled through or
half famished, she was pretty sure to find him smiling, when she
suddenly awakened to her duties respecting the little fellow.
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