Public ledger. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1865-1893, 1872-05-23

Most women have dread of these
Mothers would rather their little daugh
ters were called anything than romps
They say TO them, Be very quiet now
my dears-don't run or jump; try and be
little ladies" As if healthy child
could be still, as if it could fold its lit
tie hands in its lap, when its little heart
is so brimful Of tickle. 1t is absurd
and wrong for mothers to talk so; alb
surd and wrong because it is unnatural.
Children, girls as well as boys, need ex-
ercise, indeed they must have it to be
kept in a healthy condition. They need
it to expand their chests, strengthen
their muscles tone their nerves, and de-
velop themselves generally. And this
exercise must be out of doors too. 1t is
not enough to have calisthenics in the
nursery or parler. They need to be out
in the sunshine, cut in the wind, out on
the grass, out in the woods, out of doors
somewhere, if it be no bigger place
than the common or park, They
need romp every day of their lives.
Suppose they do tan their pretty faces.
Better be as brown as berry and
have the pulse quick and strong, than
white as lily and complain of cold
feet and headache. Suppose they do
tear their clothes, tear them every
which way, suppose they do wear out
the shoes, pair a month, even; it don't
try mothers patience and strength
half so much to patch and mend as it
does to watch night after night queru-
lous sick child and it don't drain a
fathers pocket-book half as quick to
buy shoes as it does to pay doctors bills,
The odds are all on the side Of the romps.
Indeed, we don't believe there is pret-
tier picture in all the wide world than
that of little girl balancing herself on
the topmost rail of an old zigzag fence,
her bonnet on one arm and basket OF
blackberries on the other, her curls
streaming out in the wind or ripping
over her flushed cheeks, her apron half
torn from its waist, and dangling to her
feet, her fingers stained with the berries
she has picked, and her lips with those
she has eaten. Mother, mother, don I
scold that little creature when she comes
in and puts her basket on the table, and
look ruefully at the rent in the new
gingham apron, and at the little bare toes
sticking out Of the last pair Of shoes.
Wash ofher hot face and seiled hands, and
give her bowl Of cool milk and light
bread, and when she has eaten her fill
and got rested, make her sit down be-
side you and tell you about what she
has seen off in those meadows and
woods. Her heart will be full of beauti-
ful things-the sound of the wind, the
talk of the leaves, the music of the wild
birds and the laugh of wild flowers
the ripping of streams and the color of
pebbles, the shape of the clouds and the
hue of the sunbeams-all those will have
woven their spell over innocent thoughts,
and made her poet in feeling, if not in
expression.
! No, mothers, don't nurse up your
little girls like house-plants. The
daughters Of this generation are to be
the mothers of the next, and if you
would have them healthy in body and
genial in temper, free from nervous af-
fections, fdgets and blues; if you would
fit them for life. its joys, its cares and
its trials, let them have a good romp
every day while they are growing. 1t is
own specific, and, if taken in
season, warranted to cure all the ills of
the girl and the woman.