The Sierra citizen., 1854-09-23
Saturday. September IS, 1854.
California Children.

California Children.
-"'Crus.y old bachelors What mon
itor that thing they call conscience is
how quick applies the true word. Does
our neighbor of the Citizen belong to that
class he SO truly describes?"- Farmer.
To the charge of bachelorism We must
reluctantly plead guilty, misfortune for
which we are indebted to Dame Nature,
who bestowed on US such villianously
plain frontispiece, and faint heart that We
never could. make an impression-hence
inevitable bachelorhood.
But viii our friend of the Farmer not
DO US the injustice to believe that we are
no friend of the little people. 1t did
strike US as rather funny proceeding, for
fat mamas with still fatter babies. to be
seen "toting" the young hopefulsupto the
place of exhibition, while the meek look
ing papa followed at a respectful distance
with, the bandbox, an umbrella, small |
dog, and a. sheet of gingerbread; but then
after all it may be all right and proper; at
any rate it can do noharm, and may cause
many juvenile to rejoice over an extra
ration of bread and milk, and to escape
the regular spanking for the six weeks
preceding the exhibition.
We'have but poor opinion Of any one
whose heart does not beat quicker and
warmer at the sounds Of merriment COM
ing up from the village green, where the,
children are at play;. or for even the prac.
tical man of business who would not stop,
and inquire into the grief of the little
squallid looking child of sorrow who sat
whimpering at her mothers door, or for
the vulgar clown who passed the school
children in the lane without recognizing
their efforts at civility. And here where
they arc so few, and where as soon as they
can speak they must listen to blasphcmous
language, and obscene jests which make
the young mother press her first-born clo-
ser to her breast, in the hope that her
child may escape the moral leprosy, which
has infected even children of dozen years,
we were unleelng indeed to ridicule the
mothers pride, or say aught that would
make her think less exultingly of the hope
of her house.
Perhaps the happcst days Of our life
were those spent while exercising The
functions of the village pedagogue, in the
little old school-house where we first learn
cd the mysteries of A. B. q. This was
at our first outset in life when but boy
ourself, and every young disciple crooked
ones they were sometimes) added to our
self Importance, for we were looked upon
us the autocrat of that little community.
The recollection of each little trusting
face is still distinct, as one by one they
came up to tell of their griefs and, joys,
and it requires second thought to con-
vince one that some of those bright faces
are bronzed with the sun of strange lands,
while others have been mingled with their
kindred clay in the village graveyard
One night Just when the first scared leaf
of Autumn was whirling on the gale, the
angel of death marked the little blue eyed
favorite of the school, for his own, and
day after day the tolling of the church
bell, caused some heart-stricken mother to
remember that another merry voice in the
playground was hushed forever. The
school-house was closed. That dreadful
scourge the cholera, caused the watchful
mother to lay her hand on the brow of
her sleeping favorite, to see if the damp
of death were already there, and fearfully
did she realize that matchless apostrophe
to the King of Terrors-
"Come to the bridal chamber Death!
Come to the mother when she feels for the
first time her first-born's breath;
Come when the blessed seals, that bind
the pestilence are broke,
And crowded cities vail the stroke:
And thou art terrible."
Then, when the destroying angel has put
up his sword, who can blame the mother
for being proud OF her children, even if
she bring them into the crowded assembly,
saying "these are my jewels