XXII.
BLESSED BE BASHFULNESS.
Like the presence of a fresh clover in a meadow of sun-scorched
grasses, or the sound of a singing lark in a council of crows, is the
sight of a bashful child. In this age of juvenile precocity and
pinafore wisdom I would rather run across a downright timid boy or girl
than drink Arctic soda in dog days. Never be distressed, then, when
"johnnie" hangs his head and blushes like a girl, or when his little
sister stands on one foot and fairly writhes with embarrassment in the
presence of strangers. Count it rather the very crown of joy that you
are the parent of a fresh and innocent child, rather than the
superfluous attendant of a _blase_ infant, who discounts a circus
herald in "cheek" and outdistances a drummer in politic address and
unabashed effrontery. If I had my way I would put half the little
mannikins and pattern dolls of our latter day nurseries into a big
corn-popper and see if I couldn't evolve something sweeter and more
wholesome out of the hard, round, compact little kernels of their
present individuality. I would utterly do away with children's parties
and "butterfly balls" and kirmess dissipations. There should be a new
deal of bread and milk all around. Every boy in the land should go to
bed at sundown, and every girl should wear a sunbonnet. There should
be no carrying of canes, or eating of candy, or wearing of jewelry, or
talking of beaux, and I would dig up from the grave of the long ago the
quaint old custom of courtesying to strangers, of keeping silent until
spoken to, and of universal respect for the aged.
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