Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-09-09
CHILDREN AND FLOWERS.
Odd Reflections From Jnvenile Astronomers
Plenty of New Moons-shndows That
Made Pickaninny Big Enough-Golden
R1d a a m Hnrvest Rloasnn,.

| Odd Reflections From Jnvenile Astronomers
Plenty of New BIoons-shudews That
Made PIckaninny Big Enough-G Golden
Rod as Harvest Blossom.
The prattle of o child has frequently set
| brains of older growth in motion-some etimes
in the direction of pathos, and again in lines of
humorous vein. Watching every word and
| motion of their most intimate elders as they
| do, children hear and see about all there is
| going; but how differently from adult observers
| they sometimes see things!
While out walking with her papa the other
night, a little tot of three short summers, who
hasn't progressed very far in her astronomical
studies. persisted in the oral pursuit thereof,
much to the amusement of passers-by who
caught portions of the prattle.
Look, papar' said the child, show many
moons there are tonight Most as many as
the stars; aren't there, papar'
"Only one" replied the senior, abstractedly,
pointing to Luna's crescent face.
'But, papa, look down Fifth avenue. toward
the Court House, and up Forbes street.
toward Oakland; one two, Free seven, five
moons, all in rowan all bright, dess like
sister Fannie's earrings. when 200 said she's
talkin' moons'ine,' uzzer nightr'
The city's new system of electric lighting had
tronomers so very young
~
Apropos of moonshine and the kindred lights
that shine and sputter and simmer by night,
bringing new ideas to childhood not only, but
to many others Of us is the story of little darkey
girls chatter, while out with her mother for
stroll up Wylie avenue one, night last week.
Only few days ago while trying to surmount
some Of the obstacles that confronted her in
many maternal assurances that the child must
wait for thus and so until she got big enough"
the little one interrogated:
NANNY, am dere any ladder high 'nuff T.
reach de moon?"
mo, child; what for dye ask g. ech fullish
questions. Better shet yer yawp. 'thout ye kin
talk some sense"
"Then, nanny, how de man in de moon git
way up dar wifi his green cheese? Am he SO
big as dat?''
Only another phase of juvenile astronomy,
you see; but an actual one, and wholly depend.
ent upon the nonsensical remarks of older folk.
kx*
The same little pickaninny, having been told
on another occasion that 1t wouldn't be safe
for her to wash dishes until she got big" re.
membered the remark and pondered on it.
NANNY" said she on the evening in ques-
glare of the same electric lighting system,
NANNY. am dat my shadder over yon.
ahead?"
YES yes, child; whose shadder could it be
but yo's?"
"'Kase nanny, dat shadder's big 'nuff fer
to wash dishes now, amt it-'thout breakin
Nv 'em. too2"
The electric light had, to the pickanlnny's
fro od hor int0 a ful ll.An
mestic, though years old, and she wound up
with the query:
NANNY, fl keeps on a-growin' and a-growin'
like de shadders, Sc boun' to tech de sky an
be as big as de stars befo' Chrismus, amt /,
mammy?'
"Shet yer yawp. now, child! Dye hearF'
was all the answer the dusky little student of
the shadows was vouchsafed.
Il.
It's broad break from such juvenile od-
dties to reflection or two on one of autumn's
own peculiar flowers; but here goes: When,
after the vacation season, many of us sat in one
of our most prominent Pittsburg churches yes
terday and listened to far.reaching yet home
hitting sermon on fruit-bearing Christianity;
on the barren fig tree which might have borne
fruit to feed the Son of God; on the emptiness
and hypocrisy of that Christianity which bears
only leaves. and is therefore fit only to grow
outside of orchards. if at all-these and kindred
thoughts seemed all the more impressive for
the very nature of the single species of blossom
that rose higher than the pulpit upon its right.
Golden-rod with its bright reflex uf a whole
summers sunshine; golden-rod, with its deli
cate, fern-shaped blossoms all aglow and nod
ding good-day to the Sabbath morning golden
rod, with its wealth of flower and its lack of
meaningless leaves; what a splendid harvest
reminder from Flora's kingdom it is, to be
sure! One can catch, as if by infection, its
goodly glow as he looks upon it and involun,
tarily exclams:
Beautiful, glorious golden-rod,
Rich in thy typical harvest hues!
Fairest of flowers from autunn's sod,
Wild, and unsprinkled, save by Gods dewsl