The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1892-02-15
AyersCaharhcPMs
SKETCHES FROM CHILD LIFE.

20, dear the babiesl All sizes and ages.
the very atmosphere seems full of them,p
said a fashionable lady who thought babies
were not in her line, while she gave her
skirts meaning little tuck as though she
feared contamination, and her friend fol-
lows her every movement. Once settled in
the furthest end of the car this very fash
ionable lady replaced her fallen eyeglass
and turned once more to view her fellow
passengers. "Did you ever see SO
many babies, Janel" said she.
and Jane declares she never did,
as the car is filling to an alarming
state and they will continue to pile in at
each corner or stopping place. but the rosy
checked little ones enjoyed themselves in
their own merry ways, and it mattered not
to them what others Sthought or felt As
the last crowd made its appearance the
very fashionable lady laughed to such an
| extent that the end of her nose turned
bright rose color, while the eyeglass, being
unaccustomed to SO much mirth, flew off
and struck the opposite baby on the end
or his nose. This caused a great calam-
ity, as he cried and all the other
babies from sympathy cried also, and it was
| at this crisis that the bell was violently ruDS
by our fashionable friend, and the last saw
of her she was on firm ground, shaking her
garments as though she feared some of
those babies must still be clinginR to her
draperies, and Jane was meekly following.
Being unaccustomed TO children In GUAM
titles 1t was no wonder that our fashionable
| friend declared before leaving us that she
preferred them in broken doses
for indeed you never saw so many
little heads in car, and all colors too.
everything but gray. Some OF the boys had
soft curls that lay In loose rings making
them picturesquelY beautiful, and know a
certain little girl must have envied them.
for she had COW llcks and just where the
| bang ought to have oaressed her brow most
atfectionately it stood quite on end like SO
many little bristles. giving her a most QUIZ
Zical look, and people felt inclined to laugh
when they saw her. But our list does not
end with her, or the baby with
the bruised nose, for they were all
there. rich and poor artistically
dressed babies with their long skirts, short
waists and big hats, aud babies who knew
bat once a week land that day was Sunday
what soap and water meant. and lastly,
babies who did not in the least object to q
crushed cap, spotted cloak, or soiled face
and hands. However, there was great re-
lief felt among them on the departure of
the fashionable lady. know they breathed
freer, and then they all laughed, while the
baby with tine bruised nose gave a most
knowing nod, as much as to say: I'VE
are rid Of her, now for
fun" 1t was not until later on that saw
the group that occupied the far end of the
car opposite to whore our maTtyred friend
had sat. This group was composed of a
most youthful-looking woman and two
children. She evidently was the mother.
One would soon see that by the tender ex-
preston that illumined her beautiful eyes,
Her clothing was elegant, but made the
simplest. The plain sAirt and shirt waist
seemed to bring out every line
of her graceful figure. Her face
was not a perfect ono. Still. you would
turn and gaze at it a second time, yet the
question would arise, Why do we looka Ard
the answer would slowly come: Because it
is not the face we meet in everyday life;
tits not the face that quicl.ens the pulse of
the sentimental youth, or makes the man
of the world say; ~ wonder who she is"
for little matters the delicate tint of COM
plexIen or the enchanting glance Of the eye.
loveliness, but something far bet
ter-'a mind at peace with all
below, heart whose love ia
innocent" but, to look upon that
face as l did all lighted with the radiance OF
Mother Love, who would not feel with me
that only to see it was like CLEAN from
the celestial world Yet how fading are
denly this sweet-faced woman and her
beautiful children had vanished as though
they had never existed, and | find myself
two blocks beyond my street, with that
picture still before my eyes, and wishing /
hadn't been quite so absorbed. Most of us
think of childhood as being one Of the hap
pies EStages Of our existence. Under certain
circumstances it is best, but did you ever
think of the little poverty-stricken or-
phan? See him in his rags as he stands at
some corner, scarcely more than an infant
in years, but aged and haggard from waat
and exposurel How bis face tells its own
| story of genuine starvation, while the little
bare feet become more blue and his eyes
SO deep set and hollow Still no one sees
the fast growing change or the young life
that soon will have set How he works to
earn that crust of bread, and when night
comes, he turns once more with a weary
start with aching limbs and burdened
heart, to what you may know of as home.
But how unlike yours is to his wretched
dwelling where poverty reigns supreme
The room in which he sleeps is cramped and
small; the bed of straw, and table propped
against the wall complete Its furnishing.
Then there are cracks in the window panes,
| while other window panes are entirely gone,
the broken window being stuffed with old
rags and papers. On cold, bleak nights the
wind whistles through the openings and walls
and means as some creature bereft of reason.
And did the true mother ever live In which
the chord Of sympathy would not have been
touched and her impulse have been to clasp
the tired child to her breast, let him rest
and know nauRht of a cruel world that
surges on like mighty tide bearing
some lives to destructiona For mid
the rush. the roar, the clatter of
horses' feet, we see men who stand and
idly gaze upon the crowded thoroughfare,
pleasure-seekers who move brlskly on
as though life were worth the living, the
tramp whose tread is like measured beat
that comes at regular intervals, mothers
whose eyes sparkle as some rare wine while
they watch the lettering steps or hear their
their baby's laughter. For just as a flower
unfolding It's petals. each day so grow these
tiny creatures, bringing sunlight aud glad
ness to every woman's life, for nothing
could be more purely beautiful than the
| love Of little child.
1 ANNA McINTogu RnvIrrE