Des Arc weekly citizen., 1869-01-26
Fast Age.

EsASt ASes
 Col. r. Doman thus speaks of the fast age in which we live. His heads level on this as it is on most all other questions IL has, Herod like, slain all the children Where are the playful little girls and careless, ''frolicksome boys, of whom historians wrote and poets sang, some twenty years ago!
 Where are the einnocence," the "chil- dish gaiety,' and the "noisy mirth v
 Gone, gene, all gone, like the laugh oi the Southern negro
 Our little misses step from pinafores, bibs and pantaletts, plump into trails, paddings, hoop-skirts, false hair, paints, Grccian bend, fnicking airs, and fuss and feathers
 No romping in the sun. It would not be digni6ed, and lady-hke, and all that sort of stuff And then it might make her freckled, healthy and natural.
 Nc hearty, joyous rippling laughter. It would he rude and vulgar, and un- becoming, and several other naughty things. Little ladies never laugh so as to be heard v
 No liliputian house building, no play ing with dolls, and riding stick horses, and swinging on the the gates. It would be childish, improper. and indeccrous Oh /. no; little missie, as soon as she gets out of her spelling book and multipli- cation table, must smatter over enough of "Parlez yous Francaies" to lesrn the meaning Of l Amour mon monchere ami, and oui Mousieur;' and nod her poor silly little head over huge astronomy, which only teaches her how far it is to that heaven, of which so few of what the world styles ''fashionable ladies' will ever see anything more, than the faint glimpses they got through boarding school tele scope.
 Out of this, away she must hie to some smirking, lascivlous dancing master, to be called mademoiselle," and taught to "move gracefully" in shoes with bottle co,k heels, so high and slim, that the Venus de Medici mounted on them would hcbble like . lame COW
 A few weeks training in grace, and u-u-ngh she must have her miserable little waist pinched in, till she can't bend without breaking, then be bent till she cant straighten without snapping her hair combed back, and a pumpkin swung to the nape of her neck, till she cant shut her eyes without fracturing her scalp
 Then she must drive the neighbors to a mad house while she, bangs the wits of the mortified Steinway or Chickering, accompanying the tantinabulary uproar with terrific imitation of a screach-owl with the collie known as "H Bacceo' or eRoJert le DiaJle."
 Then, when she ought to be nursing a rag baby or troundlinga a barrel-hoop down the lawn, she must lounge around, pale, dyspeptic, cross and hypocritieal, read pukily sentimental love tales, or Goodey s and Peterson's trash, and entertain her beaux!
 And such beaux
 No more boysl
 No, no. Would you, could you, style that wretched, knitting kneedle-legged, star candle-visaged insects, with seven stray hairs oiled and dyed, on its upper lip; a cigar struck in the expressionless hole in it's face, which passes for mouth, and its cofTee-pot spout nostrils belching smoke like Pittsburg stern wheeler-would you, could you syle that thing boy
 Hear the horrid little animal swear!
 Why, he's equal to Senator already
 Hear him beleh vulgarity, discuss horse flesh, women, faro banks and whis- key.
 A generaassimo in embro
 Call that thing boy
 No neveri
 Where's the modesty, the honest, open face, the fair complexion and rosy cheeks, the true manliness, and independency. and heartiuess of real, noble 'boys' l Echo answers nary where
 The girls are gone!
 The boys are gone"
 Good manners and good morals gone
 And the glory of Israel is departed
 Fast age, fast age has done it all.