CHILDREN'S PARTIES.
OP all the months in the year, perhaps the month. of January is the most dear to the heart of childhood, the most productive of rapturous pleasures and joys that arc never put within its reach at any other season. Hardly have they forgotten the kindly presence of Santa Claus and the wealth of long-desired treasures that he brings in his train, hardly have. they recovered from the sometimes disastrous effects of the Christmas dinner, when they find themselves embarked upon a New Year filled with the wildest delights of dissipation, with pantomimes, with circuses, with Christmas- trees and children's parties. A taste for these entertainments, like an appetite for jam-tarts and plum-cake, does not survive a certain age, and however much they may delight the minds of infancy, they are generally a source of very mixed pleasure to the elders who provide them ; but of all these winter amusements, the children's party is the one that probably strikes the greatest dismay into the heart of the unhappy father of a family, and fills him .with the most gloomy forebodings. Still, it is his lot to submit in this, as in everything else ; to see his house turned upside- down for the reception of his small guests ; to hire Punch- and-Judies, conjurers, and musicians for their benefit ; and then, if he be wise, to flee away and hide himself until the visitation is past. Nevertheless, to an observer who is less nearly interested in these proceedings, who is neither called upon to entertain nor to help in the amusements, there is
much that passes before his eyes that is curious and worthy of study.
A company of children behave in very much the same way as their elders would under the same conditions, were it not for the restrictions of society that have grown upon them together with their physical and actual growth ; and the memory of this fact, combined with the absurdity of the contrast between the two assemblages, is the cause of much delight to the spectator who cares to watch and moralise. When the gallant youth of seven years old meets with his affinity in the shape of sweet five years old, he makes no attempt to conceal the fact that lie is smitten by her charms, but will declare his sudden affection in the clearest and most open fashion, and take possession of her as his partner for the rest of the evening. She, for her part, when once she has forgotten the uncomfortable and unwonted glories of starched muslin and pink sashes, will Meet his advances more than half-way, and takes a proud joy in the watchful air of protection with which he surrounds her. They will dance together, and with no one else ; they will sit together with their arms round each other's necks ; they will pull crackers together, and together they will decipher the romantic motto, and share the hidden bon-bon with alternate bites; they will eat from the same plate, and refuse to be separated, and, before the evening is over and the sad time of parting has arrived, they will have several times kissed each other shame- lessly and unblushingly before the eyes of the whole company. The innocence and simplicity of this baby love-making is charming to witness, and infinitely more satisfactory to the onlooker than the guarded and guileful play of men and maidens. Still, it is unfortunate that children should be as demonstrative of their aversions as they are of their loves, fur the sudden wail that is uplifted and refuses to be silenced, is only too often the consequence of the slyly administered but nipping pinch. Mach as we may regret the restrictions that society imposes upon the expression of our softer emotions, we may at least congratulate ourselves that it protects us also from the angry passions and dislikes of our neighbours. There is a certain type of childhood that never offends in this QI7 in any other way, but which, for all that, quite fails to commend itself to the judicial mind. There is the boy of ten or twelve years old, who enters the room with a blase, supercilious air, and refuses to take any part in the subsequent proceedings. He knows perfectly well how the conjurer does his tricks, and utterly refuses to be astonished or amused by them ; the tragic history of Punch and Judy cannot move him to tears or laughter,—he has heard that story so often before; he leans against the wall and turns 'a countenance expressive of the blankest indifference upon his surroundings while he caresses his white-kid gloves. If obliged to dance, he will do so under protest, and desert his partner upon the first opportunity, regardless of her wistful glances of invitation. He is perfectly correct in his dress and in his demeanour; his condescension, when he does condescend, is overpowering ; lie bears a spurious air of manhood about him, and is withal profoundly uninteresting to every one except himself. A more amusing study may be found in the small girl of the same type and age; she is equally superior to her surroundings, but in the different way in which she shows her superiority lies all the differewe between the two sexes. She is more conscious of her new frock than he is of his coat and collar, but she is also more conscious of the duties that she owes to her society. While he holds himself aloof with a look of distant .disdain, she will move among her fellows with the most gracious patronage ; she takes a kindly interest in the doings of the "little ones," and will unbend to kiss a baby ; she is wonder- fully sedate and demure, and looks as if she had never pulled her sister's hair, or committed any other childish atrocity ; to be addressed by her is to receive a most flattering honour, and her words are the words of wisdom and ripe old age. Happily, the juvenile prig is not common; and still more happily, the type that affords the greatest contrast to it is yet more rare. The race of the troublesome boy, whom John Leech delighted to depict, is fast disappearing,—the boy that is generally described by his attendants as a "handful;" and who, before he is finally removed by them in a state of open rebellion, will have created several distinct riots attended with uproar and breakages. Again, there is the unlucky boy, who is considered the fool of his family, and for that reason is not improbably the one member that will sonic day do it the most credit. He is shy, awkward, and gauche, and he hates being taken to parties; he is distressingly conscious of a clean collar, and sadly hampered by his gloves; he lurks in dark corners, and can only be made happy by being left alone ; and not even the prospect of supper will awake in him the slightest enthusiasm. He can hardly be said to enjoy himself, but no doubt the discipline is good for him. And besides these, there are a hundred others that are worthy of notice,--the good- natured boy, who finds partners for his little sisters and dances with forlorn damsels himself : the vain little girl, whose fingers are always arranging her ringlets or smoothing her diminutive flounces : the kind little girl, who gives away her partner, as she would her doll, to a less fortunate friend: the greedy little boy—most of the little boys are rather greedy, and their little hearts seem to be situated in the same place as another little organ underneath their little waistcoats—who tries all the dishes within and beyond his reach at the supper-table the proud little girl, who only con- descends to dance with boys in trousers : the happy little girl, who dances with everybody, and shrieks at intervals with pure delight : and the stolid little children, who neither laugh, nor cry, nor speak, nor show any outward sign of pleasure in their solemn eyes, but who plod gravely and seriously through the evening, with a sense of infinite content at the bottom of their little hearts. To watch them dancing is a real pleasure. Not many of the small boys can dance, but not one of the small girls is there that cannot. To them it seems a matter of instinct. They naturally take the lead ; and when their partners are backward, they invite them themselves, and drag them forward, shamefaced, to share in their gyrations. They direct their wandering footsteps through the intricacies of the quadrille, and twist and twirl them into their proper positions; they support them in the giddy revolutions of the waltz ; and incite them to the riotous stampede of the polka. The dogged perseverance with which two little atoms will painfully revolve round each other is extraordinary. They are swept away again and again by the eddying couples of their elders, only to resume their task with undiminished vigour ; they grow giddy, they slip, they fall; but they pick themselves up again, and go on and on, making no steps, but simply stumping round and round each other with their little legs. As the evening progresses, the fun grows faster and more furious. Two small boys will come to blows, While the- object of their strife looks on with round-eyed dismay, and begs to be allowed to dance with both of them at once; others join hands and rush wildly up and down ; and some tired little mortals fall asleep, in spite of all the noise and clamour, with their heads in each other's laps, Until at last there comes the hour for wishing good-night, the half-conscious passage to their own homes and beds, and the dreamless sleep of childhood.
Not often again in after-life will they have the chance of such unfettered enjoyment and freedom of emotions ; and for that reason alone one would be loth to grudge the children their innocent orgies. To any one who cares to make a study of the ways and habits of his fellow-creatures, we would confidently recommend a course of children's parties as an invaluable prelude to his task. There are the same motives and forces at work amongst those infants as move the full-grown men and women, only in the case of the former the connection between cause and effect, between motive and action, is unconcealed and undisguised. The child is the father of the man in a much fuller sense than the world recognises ; and though we speak of childish tricks and childish fancies as if they were things that belonged to a par- ticular period and could be outgrown, he who has eyes to see will find the same tricks and fancies in the sober children of sixty years old. By far the most interesting and instructive gatherings are those of children of the very tender age. Children, like kittens, are most graceful in the early stages of their existence, and grow less amusing as they grow older. The juvenile parties of children of larger growth are por- tentously dull affairs. They ape the manners and customs of grown-up people with the most serious precision, and are, as a rule, even more decorous and well-behaved than their elders. The English schoolboy in society is a very solemn young gentleman, preternaturally grave and sober in his speech, and rather distant in his manners ; while as for the schoolgirl, she is such a very superior young person, so very proper, so filled with useful knowledge, and so hedged in with the divinity of French verbs, calisthenics, and the use of the globes, that one hardly dares to approach her, and is content to admire her from a respectful distance. Their parties are largely frequented by grown-up young men and maidens who are fond of dancing, and who seem to monopolise it. There is none of the baccha- nalian riot that characterises a real children's party, and very little of the fun and amusement ; however, they, too, probably enjoy themselves after their own sedate fashion.
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