Year: 1872

Most women have dread of these.


Mothers would rather their little daugh-


ters were called anything but romps,


and say to them: "Be very quiet, now,


my dears; don't run or jump; try to be
little ladies'" As if healthy child


could be still; as if it could take time
to walk or step over what came in its


way; as if could fold its little hands in


its lap, when its little heart is so brim-
| full of tickle. 1t is absurd and wrong,


because it is unnatural. Children,gi


as well as boys, need exercise; indeed,


they must have it to be kept in healthy


condition. They need it to expand


their chests, strengthen their muscles,


tone their nerves, and develop them


selves generally. And this exercise


must be out of the doors, too. 1t is not


enough to have calisthenics in the nurs-


cry or parlor. They need to be out in


the sunshine, out in the wind, out on
the grass, out in the woods, out of doors
somewhere, if it be no bigger place
than the common park. They need
romp every day of their lives. Sup
pose they do tan their pretty faces.
Better be as brown as a berry and have
their pulse quick and strong than white
as lily and complain of cold feet and
headache. Suppose they do tear their
clothes, tear them "every which way"
suppose they do wear out the shoes,
pair month even; it don't try moth
er's patience and strength half so much
to patch and mend as it does to watch
night after night querulous sick child;
and it don't drain a fathers pocket
book half as quick to buy shoes as il
does to pay doctors bills. The odds
are all on the side of the romps. In
deed, we don't believe there is prettier
picture in all the wide world than that
of a little girl balancing herself on the
topmost rail of an old zig-zag fence, her
bonnet on one arm and a basket of
black-berries on the other, her eurls
streaming out in the wind or rippling
over her flushed cheeks, her apron half
torn from its waist, and dangling to her
feet, her fingers stained with the berries
she has picked, and her lips with those
she has eaten. Mother, mother, don't
scold that little creature when she
comes in and puts her basket ON the ta-
BILE, and look rueful at the rent in the
new gingham apron, and the little bare
toes sticking out of the last pair of
shoes. Wash of her hot face and soiled
hands, and give her 4 bowl of cool milk
and light bread and when she has eaten
her fill and got rested, make her sit
down beside and tell you about what
she had seen off in those meadows and
woods. Her heart will be full of beau
tiful things-the sound of the wind,
the talk OF the leaves, the music of the
wild birds, and the laugh of the wild
flowers, the rippling of the streams and
the color of pebbles, the shade of the
ciouds,a and the hue of the sunbeams-
all of those would have woven their
spell over her innocent thoughts, and
make her poet in feelings, il not IN
expression.


No, mothers, don't nurse up your lit
tie girls like house-plants. The dsugh-
tiers of this generation are to be moth


-, ~. ,h.. ,,.xf and If vnu uauld have
them healthy in body and genial in
temper, free from nervous affections,
iidgets and blues; if you would fit them
for life, its joys, its cares and its trials,
let them have a good romp every day
while they are growing. 1t is natures
own specific, and, if taken in season,
warranted to cure all the ills of the girl
and the woman.-Erehdeye.