Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1886-11-24

about all the majority of mankind are liv-
ing for, though they don't know it, and il |
they did they wouldn't acknowledge it. 1t
is emphatically the great business of the |
sublunary life. We look on with amaze
nent at the busy crowds in a great city that
are ever going to and fro like fddler's ell
bow, and the most of them are working
and struggling to please and maintain chill
dren. 1t is the excuse for all the mad rush
that hurries mankind through the world.
1t is the apology for nearly all the stealing
and cheating and lying in the land.
Not long ago one of my neighbors sold
me Poland China SOW for fifteen dollars.
and she ate up five dollars worth of chick
Gus the very next day | got her, and when
! asked him why he didn't tell me she was
a chicken-eater, he smiled and said he
thought that would find it out sooner or
later. His girls came to meeting next Sun
day with brand-new bonnets on that were
bought with that money, and SO I forgave
him. He cheated nae to please them.
Sometimes when Illuminate upon the mean
ness of mankind wish that children would
never get grown, for they don't get mean
or foolish until they do.
Solomon says that "Children are the
chief end Of man and the glory of his de-
clining years." and I am prepared to add
that raising ten or dozen of them from the
cradle to counting time is about the bust
est thing in this life and the most RESPONSE
BILE in the life to come.
But the crop is laid by. We are nearly
through, thank the good Lord for His mer-
cies, and l wouldn't 60 through it again
for world full of gold.
The last tender shoot is out of the grass
no more nursing and trotting and toting
nd
and undressing and putting to bed. No
more tip-toeing around when they are
asleep, OF playing horse and bear and mon
KEY when they are awake. No more baby
songs and paregoric, or teething,- or collie,
or catnip tea. Never again will they be
crawling over tired paternal, or riding on
his back, or trotting on his weary knees as
he sings the same old songs he sung a
thousand times before. Our last and
youngest of a dozen has passed the rubi
con-bless her little heart almost wish
she never would grow any more, or getany
older, for she is the comfort of our declin-
ing years. She can now wash and dress
and undress and say her own prayers and
put her little self to bed. She can sing her
own songs and she waits on us like fairy
and fills the house with sunlight.
The crop is laid by. In the heyday of
our youthful vigor a kind Providence ena-
bles us to bear up splendidly under these
burdens, but an old man can't. An old
bachelor had betternot begin. 1t is fraud
upon his young wife, for it leaves her all
the burdens. If there is any peril in life
that is like lingering suicide, it is for an
old widower who has raised one crop of
children TO marry young wife and go to
cropping again. 1t is against the order of
nature, and he will hardly get to Heaven,
for paradise was not made for fools.
When a man begins to get along in years
he gradually changes from being king il
his family to patriarch He is more ten
der and kind to his offspring, and instead
of ruling them, the first thing he knows
they are ruling him. 1t is the first-born
children who get the most licking, and this
is right and according to nature. They are
the trainers of the younger ones, both by
precept and example. They are to lead
the way aud must be made to lead it right
They get the most favor, too, and enjoy
the most privileges They go when the
parents go. They wear no second hand
clothes They have the birth right and
must keep up and hand down the good
name of the family. But one by one they
grow up and marry and leave us for other
loves that are stronger than ours. How
sadly, silently jealous we are of those loves!
How hard to be reconciled! How do GU
hearts recoil with stronger affection to-
wards those who are still our own all our
own, and cling to us for love and support.
l said to good old mother not long ago:
"Well, l hear that Anna is to be married
soon" 'Yes, SIR" said she, smiling sor-
rowfully, 81 don't know what will dc.
My last daughter is going to leave me. I've
nursed and watched and petted her all her
life, and [ kind % thought she was mine
and would always be mine, but she has run
eff after Teller she is no kin to in the
world and who never did do thing for her
but give her ring and book and a little
French candy now and then. 1t does look
i5 at NIL if-if-if hadn't done the very
same thing myself in the long ago" And
she kept knitting away with a smile and a
tear upon her motheriy face.
Raising children is mighty big thing,
and it takes two to make it a success. Every
child ought to have father and mother
"a father to govern with vigor and moth
er to love with tenderness. A man is the
head of the house about something's, aud
about some other things he is only next to
head, if he amt foot. A man can punish
his children, of course, when they deserve
it, but it is always advisable to make
reasonable explanation to the good mother
who bore them, for they are her children
sure enough, and she knows it. There
never was but one case of doubt as to who
was the mother of child, and King Solo
mon settled that in short order. The pain
and trouble and nursing and night watch
ing have all been hers. The washing and
dressing and mendiug and patching tieing
up fingers and toes and sympathizing with
all their great big little troubles 1t all
falls to her while the father is attending to
his farm or his store or his Office. or may
be his club aud his billiard table. I've seen
the old hen scratch and work and " orry all
the day for her tiny brood, and I've seen
the old rooster step around and look on
with a paternal pride and do nothing.
Ever and anon he would find worm or q
bug and call them to come and get it, and
just before they got there he ate 1t himself.
When a woman says "this is my child" it
carries more weight and more meaning
than when man says it; and have no re-
spect for a law that will give man the
preference just because be is man.
Our crop is laid by-and now there is
new lot of little chaps circulating around,
for grand children have come to visit us
and make for us a genuine Thanksgiving
Day in our country house. What bur
lesque it is in chldhood's joy for the grand
parents to live in crowded city penned up
with brick walls with a few sickly flowers
in the front window and a back yard to
play in about as big as wagon sheet. The
old folks should live in the country where
there is latitude and longitude, and fields