Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1891-09-02
For the SPECTATOR
BABY

Fashion Bazaar.
For the SPECTATOR.
BABY
A philosopher who was probably nothing |
more than a fraudulent and stony.hearted old
bachelor, wrote a treatise in which hepretend-
ed that no consistent thinker could possible |
iscover the ultimate use OF babies.
There are moments when this irreverent
mans reasoning appeals with a certain SYM |
pathetic force to intellects Of the feebler type;
but we cannot think that he is likely to OBJ |
tain any permanent hold on the mind OF the
nation.
Certainly he has earned the resentment OF
one sex; and, although that sex would probas
bly, be labeled as 1.-THE weaker" by our philoso-
pher. we imagine he would change his opinion
after being interviewed by deputation OF
practical matrons.
We, for our part, are determined to take a
great question out OF the domain of scnti.
ment, and we shall reason on very strict
lines, for we know that mankind are divided
into two great and influential schools-baby-
lovers and-well, persons who are not baby
lovers.
Let us dispassionately consider the proceeds
ings of baby during the watches of the night
His chief bondsman-his unhappy father
slumbers softly, when through the tumult OF
dreams an importunaie sound pierces. Is it
the harmony OF argumentative cats In the
garden? Is 1t the unlovely strain of a street
musician Is it the preaching of a demon
pack of ours? 1t Is none of these-lt Is baby
promulgating his nocturnal edict.
That man may have walked up to an enc
my's battery without tremor; he may :be in
authority, and regiments, nay, brigades, may
tremble at his frown; he may have faced the
storm at sea when the maddened deep was but
place of fitting souls; he may be proud.
austere. masterful; but what does he do when
baby's pleasure is signifed? Why, he obeys
like very sheep!
The wild chant of the despot rings through
the night; the wretched parent tries syco'
phancy, coaxing, imploring-every variety of
hypocritic device-but his advances are met
with musical contumely.
The night>wind plays around him until he
imagines that he must have casually ex-
changed his legs for pair OF wooden ones; his
garments hutter in the breeze like complicat-
ed flags of truce, and yet he goes on croaking
a lullaby under the impression that he is pros
duclng very soothing strains, and at last the
acute tormentor cunningly feigns sleep. Then
the chilled and oppressed man steals toward
the cot as If 1t were powder magazine, and
he were Guy Fawkes; his prowl is suggestive
of dark deeds; his face is puckered with the
lines of deep thought; he deposits his burden
with long sigh of elief, and begins to con.
graduate himself on his own cleverness.
Brief is his triumph, crushing his woe. The
despot was only playing off a little practical
sarcasm; he chuckles and makes confidential
remarks to himself bearing on such obscure
subjects as: 5000, goo" and bah, ball." and
ma, mat"
The trembling parent waits and hopes but.
alas, the time for mere aimless chuckling is
soon over-the summoning yell resohnds like
q clarion, and once more the mournful tramp
presumed, the garments flutter, and the slave
goes through his round OF deceit and f1attery.
By what power does this uncomfortable
baby thus master the strongest? How does he
convert the most leonine of men-warriors,
seamen, merchants, poiticians-into submits
sive lambs? This obstinate query we must
leave to our philosopher.
When baby begins to talk and to initiate
the actions of grown-up folk. his power gains
an extension-he Is the Shah, the Great Tycoon
OF the domestic circle. He rapturously halls
all men as fathers he promulgates copiously
theories concerning the "gee-gee," the "bow~
wow" the pussy" the "sweep." the "peace-
man." the puff puff" papa" and "mamma;"
ed by the male parent as Inspirations, and
mamma" constitutes herself his court his
torian.
The most soured of philosophers must allow
that baby is delicIously funny at this stage;
his gait has grown firm and his delightful
notified legs make one laugh as he deliberate>
ly strides along.
The school of thinkers opposed to cynicism
have plenty to say for themselves; and, while
we are not too hard on the insurgents who
malign baby, we venture to prefer the other
people. For. in all soberness, it must be said
that one may we'll believe unhesitatingly in
the divine when he has once watched mothers
face with a pure and discerning eye.
Raphael understood what the holy maternal
instinct means; and you may hear your own
heart beat as you face the Sistine Madonna.
for the inner soul of divine womanhood is
made manifest in you.
Baby may be all that the philosopher says
he is, but he gives happiness that cannot be
reckoned by any modes of computation known
to us.
We laugh at our cynics tale Of use. but We
know that it is half pretence, and that in his
heart he has secret kindness lying far down
"a kindness that would show itself If baby
was in real need.
How the memory of baby, the dear degpot,
remains with the mothers An old woman
hears that her gallant bearded son is lost at
sea. or slain in action. You notice that she
never thinks of i'm as strong man however
she may have loved him, and however he may
have cherished her. Her mind takes flight
over the barrier Of years; she bends over little
shoes. locks OF bright hair, tottered nursery
books. She does not remember the strong
man very wildly. but her heart yearns to the
,4f,l haI.a fI1nt
murmured pretty incoherences in her ear.
You will see very old women going regular
Iy time after time to the churchyard to look
on some tiny mound that the years have cloth
ed with thick greenery. 1t may be that half
q century has passed since the little mound
first lay brown and dolorous under the sky;
but the tiny sleeper below is still alive to the
M others faithful heart She can hear little
prattlings; she can remember when baby
crowed in her arms and greeted his father so
noi6iiy; she thinks of soft sweet evenings long
ago when the pet babbled in the freight at
her feet. Her love is immortal. and sturn men
grow tender when they remember the happy
minimizing early days.
We have had our fun out of poor baby, but
it is that kind, half-tearful fun which trembles
on the verge of sentiment. In serious truth.
we know that the world would be blank bat
for the love of children.
We adore our dear helpless despot; we luz
uriate in his exactions; we learn from his
weakness to use our own strength gently, and
his presence sanctifes the dark way OF life for
Us.
Many mothers will read our wants, they
must cultivate charity, and forgive our snarl-
ing philosopher. Perhaps after all the said
philosophers mischievous grin only make our
love sweeter by contrast.
Morever,we cannot wholly love any individ-
ual unless we can sometimes laugh at him,
and the very fact that we can laugh at King
Baby rivets the chains OF affection on us and
makes us kindlier and, let us hope better.
MARINE.
Don't suffer from Dyspepsia. Take Sim
mons Liver Regulator. 1t always cures.
PoE's COTTAGE PREsHRvED.-The New
York Press says: