New-York tribune., 1913-11-23
THE COMEDY OF CHILD LIFE.

When their mother and I returned from
a row we would often see the children
waiting for us, running like sand spiders
along the beach They always liked to
swim in company with a grown-up OF
buoyant temperament and Inventive mind.
and the float offered limitless opportuni-
ties for enjoyment while bathing. All
dutifuI parents know the game of stage
coach; each child is given a name, such
as the whip, the nigh leader, the or
wheeler, the old lady passenger, and,
under penalty Of paying a forfeit, must
get up and turn around when the grown
up. who is improvising a thrilling story.
mentions that particular object, and when
the word "stagecoach' is mentioned
everybody has to get up and turn around.
Well, we used to play "stagecOach' on the
float while in swimming. and instead or
tamey getting up and turning around the
child whose turn it was had TO plunge
overheard. When | mentioned stage
coach" the water fairly foamed with Wig
orously kicking little legs, and then there
was always a moment Of interest while |
counted, so as TO be sure that the number
Of heads that came up corresponded with
the number of children who had gone
down.
No man or woman will ever forget the
time when some child lies sick Of a dis
case that threatens its life Moreover,
much less serious sickness is unpleasant
enough at the time. Looking back. now
ever. there are elements Of comedy in GER
tain of the less serious cases. | we'll re-
member one such instance which occurred
when we were living in Washington, in
small house. with barely enough room for
everybody when all the chinks were filled.
Measles descended on the household. In
the effort 20 keep the children that were
well and those that were sick apart their
mother and l had to camp out in impro-
yised fashion. When the eldest small boy
was getting we'll and had recovered his
spIrits | slept on a sofa beside his bed
the sofa being so short that my feet pro-
jected over anyhow. one afternoon toy
organ was given to the small boy by
sympathetic friend. Next morning early
was walked to find the small boy very
vivacious and requesting story. Hav-
ing drowsly told the story, I said Now.
fathers told you a story, so you amuse
yourself and let father go TO sleep; to
which the small boy responded most virtu-
ously: yes, father will go to sleep and
I'll play the organ" which he did. at
distance OF two feet from my head. Later
his sister, who had just come down with
The measles. was put into the same room.
The small boy was convalescing, and was
engaged in playing on the floor with some
tin ships. together with two or three
pasteboard monitors and rams or my own
manufacture. He was giving a vivid rem
dering Of Farragut at Mobile Bay from
memories OF how | had told the story.
My pasteboard rams and monitors were
fascinating-if a naval architect may be
, allowed to praise his own work--and as
property they were equally divided be-
tween the little girl and the small boy.
The little girl looked on with alert sus-
picicn from the bed. for she was not yet
convalescent enough to be allowed down
on the floor The small boy was busily
Getting the phases OF the fight, which now
approached its climax. and the little girl
evidently suspected that her monitor was
destined to play the part of victim
Little Boy-And then they steamed
bang into the monitor.
Little Girl-Brother, don't you sink my
monitor
Little Boy (without needing, and hurry
ing toward the climax And the torpedo
went at the monitor
Little Girl-My, monitor is not to sink
Little boy dramatically bang
the monitor sank
Little Girl--It didn't do any such thing
My monitor always goes to bed at Z. and
it's now quarter past My monitor was In
bed and couldn't sink!