The Cadiz Democratic sentinel. [volume] (Cadiz, Ohio) 1854-1864, 1860-11-14
Boy Lost.

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cheeks and hair almost black, and almost cur
ly. He wore a crimson plaid jacket, with full
trowsers buttoned on. Was accompanied by
small black dog. 1t is long while now
since he disappeared have apleasant home
and much company. My guests say, "Ah! it is
pleasant here. Everything has such an order
ly put away look--nothing about under foot;
no dirtp'. ''
Butmy eyes are aching for the sight of whit
things and paper on the floor; Of tumbled down
card houses, of wooden sheep and cattle; Of
popguns, bows and arrows, whips, tops 60
carts, blocks and trumpery. I want to see boats
a-rigging, kites a-making. l want to see crum-
bles on the carpet, and paste split on the kitch-
en- table, l want to see the chairs and tables
turned the wrong way about; l want to See can
dy.making and corn-popping; and to find jack
knives and fish hooks among my muslins; yet
these things used to fret me once
They say-"Ah! you have leisure, nothing to
disturb you; whats heaps Of sewing you have
time for.' But long to be asked for bit of
string or an old newspaper; for cent to buy
slate pencil or peanuts want to be coaxed
for piece Of new cloth for jibs and mainsails,
and then to hem the same; want to make
| flags and bags to hold marbles. want to be
followed by little feet all over the house; teased
for little dough for little cake, or to bake
pie in a saucer. Yet these things used to fidget
me once.
They say-"Ah! you are not tied at home
How delightful to be always at liberty to 60 to
concerts, lectures or parties; no confinement
! for you" "Ni
But want confinement 1 want to listen
for the school bell mornings, to give the last
hasty wash and brush, and then to watch from
the window nimble feet bounding to school,
I want frequent rents to mend, and to replace
lost buttons l want to obliterate mud stains
fruit stains, and paints Of all colors. l want to
be sitting by little crib OF evenings, when
weary little feet are at rest and prattling voices
are hushed, that mothers may sing their lula.
bies. and tell over the oft-repeated stories.--
They don't know their happiness then-these
mothers. didn't. All these things called
confinement once. u .*
A manly figure stands before me now. He is
taller than I, has thick black whiskers, and
wears frock coat, bosomed shirt and cravat-
He has just come from college. lie brings
Latin and Greek in his countenance, and busts
of the old philosophers for the sitting room.--I
lie calls me mother, but am, rather unwilling
to own him. b y ~
He stoutly declares that be is my boy, and
says he will prove it, lie brings me a small
pair of white trousers, with gay stripes in the
side, and asks me if l didn't make them for
him when he Joined the boys militia! He says
he is the very boy, too, that made the bonfire
near the barn, SO that we came near having a
fire In earnest. lie brings his little boat to
show the cred stripe on the sail Git was the end
Of the piece and the name on the stern-"Lu-
cy Iowa little girl of our neighborhood,
who, because OF her long curls and pretty round
face, was the chosen favorite of my little boy.
Her curls were long since cut off, and she has
grown to be,a toll handsome girl. How the red
comes into his face whom he shows me the
name on his boat. o! Tsee it all as plain as if
it were written in a book. My little boy is
lost and my big one will soon be. Oh. if he
were little tired boy, in a long white night
gown lying in his crib, with me sitting by,
holding his hands in mine, pushing his. curls
back from his forehead, watching his eyelids
droop, and listening to. his deep breathing.
If ! had only my boy again, how patient
would / be! How much would bear, and
how little would Ifrct and scold! l can ncv-
er have him back again; but there are still ma
ny mothers who haven't yet lost their little
boys | wonder if they know they are living
their very best days; that now is the time to re-
ally enjoy their children! think if had been
more to my little boy l ight now be more to
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