The weekly Floridian. [volume] (Tallahassee, Fla.) 1867-19??, 1886-04-08
Published by requestl
A WITTY AND HVJMOROUIS AR,
DRESS ON BABIES.
BY REV. JOHN HANNoN. d. d.

DKESS On BABIES.
BY REV. JOHN HANNON, D. D.
AT the Fair in Lynchburg last fall a
prze was offered for the prettiest baby.
which was awarded to robert Owen
Boze, son of Capt. w. w. Boze. where
upon Secretary Mcdonald introduced
Rev. John Harmon, d. D.. who then
delivered the following inimitable adj
dress.
Who does not feel to-day like sing
ing the old ballad, "Make me a child
once again, just for night" one nights
plenty; who does not feel that we are
here IN the presence of the true heroes of
the occasion? Even the gallant Fitz
Lee, the future Governor of Virginia
with his gallant cavalry, must surrender
their laurels forever; the heart of the
boldest of these cavaliers, and even the
heart of the gallant Fitz himself. has
thrilled with terror, when, at midnight,
with yell, the light infantry have
charged the 6redstacorks throughout the
homes of this land. Yes, Fitz and his
cavalry must retire, for we're all going
to "jlne y the infantry. They tell us that
the glory of the Old Dominion is a thing
OF the past; that old Virginia is like a
potato vine-the best part of it under
ground-buried in the graveyards of the
land but, sir, when look upon a scene
like this, feel that the glory of the Old
Dominion is here, and in these little faces
shines the light of glorious future. The
whistle of the locomotive along our hills.
the clash of machinery along our streams,
and the yell of the baby among our
homes, tell that the manufacturing inter
ests of old Virginia are booming. Wen
dellssPhillips lectures on the " Lost Arts"
but, as wander through this old Com
monwealth, down by the seaboard and
over her hills to the homes of the rich
and OF the poor, and meet babies every-
where, l bow my head reverentlv and
thank Heaven that the art of making
Presidents is not lost art in Old Vir-
ginia.
There is nothing which more glorifies
our civilization than the status of the
baby. Greece could boast her OF, mpic
games, where manly strength was crown
ed the middle ages bowed worshipfully
at the feet of beautiful woman; but it
to have its baby by Shows, so and to apotheo
size infinite weakness and infinite posi-
bility. A few years ago little child in
a dolls letter to "Uncle Larry" of our
Adcocate, asked if there were any baby
clothes in heaven. Perhaps she was
thinking of the new made grave in the
burial ground, and of little brother who
lay there. Revelation answers her ques-
ton: Heaven is full of baby clothes,
and, thank God, the Sunday schools and
Orphan Asylums are the baby clothes
found now everywhere in this world.
Bickerstroth, among the greatest of our
modern poets, has sweetly said that
heaven would be dreary place without
children-that there are wanted there not
only the Pauls, the Wesleys, those good
ly cedars Of Lebanon, but there are
wanted too these little violets that bloom
around our hearthstones, and fill our
homes with fragrance and joy.
1t is true that every now and then we
hear the expression, "oasIy baby ''
Why, my dear sir, everything great was
once baby. Lynchburg, sitting here in
her beauty, with her lovely homes, cling
ing like pearls around the necks of her
hills, with the electric lights flashing like
the eyes off ballroom belle Lynchburg,
who has grown 80 large as to have all
this hustle we see around us, (they tell US
that all ladies, when they are grown,
Lynchburg was once but a baby.
Why the churches, those trong-limbed
angels, walking to and fro in the world
and lifting the nations up to God, were
once but babies. The Baptist Church,
grand old church as she is, standing yon-
der upon Court street in her neat suit OF
brick and mortar, was once but baby ;
and there is one thing about this baby
it would always play in the water. The
Presbyterian church, with her theological
institutions, like bumps on her head that
would make an angel phrenologist won.
der; the Presbyterian Church was once
but baby, but was always an old-fash-
ioned child, and took to books early. The
Episcopal church, with her beautiful
rober of ritual, her sparkling gems of ru.
brio, was once but a baby, though she
has been kept so straight by her nurses
that she has never tumbled around and
grown as healthy and big as we would
have liked. And Methodism, the young
eet and the biggest in the family Of con
gregations, is still little more than a
great laughing, crying, shouting baby,
whose Father is God, whose mother il
humanity.
Yes, we will have to Danish to the past
the barbarous expression: " only baby r'
Political economy recognizes in the baby
the true wealth of State. The forests
of our land are being exhausted, but
when look upon the great living forests
of this audience, and upon the great for
est of life in the teaming populations OF
our cities, and when ] see Death, the axe
man, every busy cutting down these for
ests, and leaving only the graves in the
grsveyards, like stumps, feel no despon-
dency; for in every home these thickets
of the little underground of humanity,
tell us that the forest Of manly and wo-
manly life will never be exhausted.
The soil Of our Old Dominion is worn
ont and exhausted. We cannot raise
such wheat - we once did, but when ]
| look at this crop OF babies / feel that the
coil is inexhaustible. Where did we ever
see : finer exhibition of kiUs-stock? As
| look upon these babies, wherever turn,
sprinaing up everywhere, my heari
swells with gratitude, and / feel Old
| Virrinis neFer tire"