Litchfield enquirer., 1859-06-09
ANOTHER MADE IT."
From the Home Journal.


 MOTHER MADE IT." From the Home Journal. A few weeks since, while in one of the beau tifu inland cities of Wisconsin, an incident oc- cured which awakened in my mind train of reflections which possibly may be written and read with advantage
 was hurrying along the street, when my attention was arrested by the appearance of q
 little boy on the side of the pavement, selling candy. He was not really beautiful, nor was he decidedly the reverse. His age was about nine years his clothes were old and faded, but well patched. His candy was spread up- on Q coarse, white cotton cloth, neatly stretch ed over what had been japanned server. He was surrounded by small group of boys, ev- dently belonging to different grades of soci- ety.
 As came nearly opposite him the oft re- peated interlude, Candy, sir ?" fell upon my ears, aud, although opposed to the excessive use of candy, l stepped aside to patronize the light-haired. pale, frcckled, home-spun little representative of trade. purchased of him. partly for his encouragement, but with partic- ular reference to the friendship of the little folks of the family of which was telnpora- ry guest.
 The candy was as white as the cloth be- meath it, being free from the very poisonous coloring ingredients so extensively used in the confectionery art. tasted it, and found it delicately favored and very nice.
 "My boy," said l, "your candy is very good let me have little more."
 immediately saw that my remark had awakened in his young heart emotions which, in themselves, were quite abstract from the candy trade. His countenauce beamed with joy as he raised his large eyes, sparkling with delight, and observed in reply:
 "It is good, isn't it? Hother made at."
 In these few words was embodied an un- conscious exhibition of character. Here was spontaneous outburst of flial affection.
 Now, this incident, in itself, was trifling but the spirit of the language carried my mind back through life more than thirty years, and at irregular intervals bade me pause and apply the sentiment to some item connected with my own history.
 Before making the application, however, I wish to disabuse myself of the charge, which such application may incur, of approprating to myself the nobility of character which l have above attributed to the candy boy. Hol- ding myself exempt from this arrogance, 1 would simply say, I am not ashamed of the profession of my affection for my parents, and hope may not outlive that profession.
 When was little boy at school, and car rcd my dinner in satchel made of calico, some of my schoolmatcs carried theirs in fash ionable willow baskets, and sometimes leased Ire because 1 carried mine in "poke." l felt vexed, but reconciled myself with the re- collection that, if did carry a calico poke, "mother made it" In less than twenty-five years after that time, one of those same school mates was happy to avail himself of the priv ilege of sending his children to my school to receive gratutous instruction, profered in view of his extreme poverty. His children came to school without any dinner. They had no nice willow basket-thcy needed no calico poke"
 William Foster ruled his copy book with a pencil set in fine silver case He said he would not carry such great ugly club of pencil as m;ne. compared the pencils. His was the handsomest, but no better than mine. had 6 good lead pencil hammered out of a piece of lead. Mother made st," aud l was satisfied with it. After we grew up to be men, William Foster came to me to get me to calculate interest on small note, at six l CT cent. per annum <; he carried a pencil worth four cents had no gun-elastic ball but had one made Of woolen dwellings and cover ed with leather Moiher made d."
 When in my twcnty-second year, I left home to attend school in L. There were in the school some fast young men, the sons of veal. thy parents. There were others whose good sense was not annihilatcd by pccuniary ad- vantages. Of the former class was one John Stokes, who wore very fine broadcloth My best coat was not so fine, the cloth cost two dollars and fifty cents yard my mother had traded tow check of her own manufacture for it; while was working to assist my father in raising his family, she paid fifty cents for getting the garment cut, and made it herself. John Stokes came one day to my desk, held out his arm, compared his coat-sleeve wi;h mine, and inquired ironically, where l got such fine coat. I proudly told him, " motAer made p' He feigned great surprise, aud sarcastically observed he had mistaken it for imported goods he wished he could get such fine clothes, and wondered if mother would get him up fine coat
 A short time afterward, while in a tailor shop one morning with a fellow student, John Stokes fine coat was brought in by lad, with instructions to scoHr and press 1t. He was not in his class that day he had been seen the previous night on Water St.. rolling in the mud, drunk as Bacchus. He left the school in disgrace. He now lies in drunk aids grave
 I boarded myself while attending school here. walked nine miles home at the close of each week, and returned on Monday morn ing with my loaf of bread under my arm It would become stale before Friday evening, but | always relished it when remembered that t' Mothey mGds t.