wonders if Betty will give the baby
his humming top to play with before he gets home--and whether his
mother will have apple dumplings for dinner? And then he explores his
Sunday pocket for the absent string and marble, and then his little toes
get so fidgety that he can't stand it, and he says out loud,
"hi--ho--hum!" and then he gets a very red ear from his father, for
disturbing his comfortable nap in particular, and the rest of the
congregation generally.
Yes, I'd have a church for children, if I could only find a minister who
knew enough to preach to them! You needn't smile! It needs a very long
head to talk to a child. It is much easier to talk to older people whose
brains are so cobwebbed with "isms" and "ologies," that you can make
them lose themselves when they get troublesome; but that
straight-forward, childish, far-reaching question! and the next--and the
next! That clear, penetrating, searching, yet innocent and trusting eye!
How will you meet them? You'll be astonished to find how often you'll
be cornered by that little child--how many difficulties he will raise, that
will require all your keenest wits to clear away. Oh, you must get off
your clerical stilts, and drop your metaphors and musty folios, and call
everything by its right name when you talk to children.
Yes, I repeat it. Children should have a minister. Not a gentleman in a
stiff neck-cloth and black coat, who says solemnly, in a sepulchral
voice, (once a year, on his parochial visit,)--"S-a-m-u-e-l--my--
boy--how--do--you--do?" but a genial, warm-hearted, loving, spiritual
father, who is neither wiser, nor greater, nor better than he who took
little children in his arms and said, "Of such is the kingdom of heaven."
THE LITTLE "MORNING GLORY."
Dear little pet! She was going a journey in the cars with mamma; and
her little curly head could not stay on the pillow, for thinking of it. She
was awake by the dawn, and had been trying to rouse mamma for an
hour. She had told her joy in lisping accents to "Dolly," whose stoical
indifference was very provoking, especially when she knew she was
going to see "her dear, white-haired old grand-papa," who had never
yet looked upon her sweet face; although pen and ink had long since
heralded her polite perfections. Yes, little pet must look her prettiest,
for grand-papa's eyes are not so dim, that the sight of a pretty face
doesn't cheer him like a ray of glad sunlight; so the glossy waves of
golden hair are nicely combed, and the bright dress put on, to heighten,
by contrast, the dimpled fairness of the neck and shoulders; then, the
little white apron, to keep all tidy; then the Cinderella boots, neatly
laced. I can see you, little pet! I wish I had you in my arms this minute!
Good bye! How the little curls shake! What a nice seat our tiny voyager
has, by that pleasant open window, upon mamma's knee! How
wonderfully fast the trees and houses and fences fly past! Was there
ever anything like it? And how it makes her eyes wink, when the cars
dash under the dark bridges, and how like the ringing of silver bells that
little musical laugh is, when they dart out again into the fair sunlight.
How cows, and horses, and sheep, all run at that horrid whistle. Little
pet feels as though she was most a woman, to be traveling about, seeing
so many fine things. On they dash!--it half takes her breath away--but
she is not afraid; no, indeed! What little darling ever could be afraid,
when its hand was in mamma's love clasp?
Alas! poor little pet!
Grand-papa's eye grow weary watching for you, at the little cottage
window. Grand-mamma says, "the cakes will be quite spoiled;" and she
"knits to her seam needle," and then moves about the sitting-room
uneasily; now and then stopping to pat the little Kitty, that is to be pet's
play-fellow. And now lame Tim has driven the cows home; and the
dew is falling, the stars are creeping out, and the little crickets and frogs
have commenced their evening concert, and still little pet hasn't come!
Where is the little stray waif?
Listen! Among the "unrecognized dead" by the late RAILROAD
ACCIDENT, was a female child, about three years of age; fair
complexion and hair; had on a red dress, green sack, white apron, linen
gaiters, tipped with patent leather, and white woolen stockings.
Poor little pet! Poor old grand-papa! Go comfort him; tell him it was a
"shocking accident," but then "nobody was to blame;" and offer him a
healing plaster for his great grief, in the shape of "damage" money.
THE CHARITY ORPHANS.
"Pleasant sight, is
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