The Nevada Democrat., 1860-11-13
ROY LOST.

lie had black eyes, with long lashes, rcd
cheeks. and hair almost black and almost
curly. He wore crimson plaid jacket,
with full trousers, buttoned on. Had a
habit OF whistling, and liked to ask ques-
tions. Was accompanied by small black
dog. It Is now long while since be disap-
peared. have very pleasant house and
much company My guests say: IAN IL
is pleasant here Everything has such an
orderly, putaway look, nothing about under
foot, no dirt !"
But my eyes are aching for the sight Of
yhitlings aud cut paper upon the iioor OF
tumble down card houses Of wooden sheep
and cattle of pop-guns, bows and arrows,
whips, tops, go-carts, blocks and trumpery.
want to see boats a-rigging, and kites a
making. | want to see crumbles on the
carpet, and paste split on the kitchen table.
/ want TO see the chairs and tables turned
the wrong way about want to see candy
making and corn popping and to find jack
knives and iish-hooks among my muslins
yet these things used to fret me once.
They say-"IIow quiet you are here ah!
one here may settle his brains and be at
peace" But my ears are aching for the
pattering of little feet for hearty shout,
a shrill whistle, gay ira Ia la, for the crack
of little whips, for the noise of drums, ffes,
and tin trumpets yet these things made me
nervous once
They say-"Ahl you have leisure-noth-
ing to disturb you; what heaps Of sewing
you have time for" But long to be asked
for piece 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 or mainsails, and then to hem the
same want to make little flags, and bags
to hold marbles. want to be followed by
little feet all over the house teased for a
bit of dough for little cake or to lake q
pie in saucer. Yet these things used to
ddget me once.
They say-"Ahl you are not tied ai
home. How delightful to be always at lib
erty to go TO concerts, lectures and parties;
no confinement for you.
But | want confinement; want to listen
for the school bel! mornings to give the
last hasty wash and brush, aud then to
watch from the window, nimble feet bound.
ing to school. l want frequent rents io
mend, and to replace lost buttons | want
to obliterate mud stains, fruit stains, molas
scs stains, aud paints Of all colors. want
to be sitting by little crib of evenings
when weary little feet are at rest, aud prat.
Ting VOICES are hushed, that mothers may
sing their lullabies, and tell over the oft re,
peated stories. They don't know theiI
happiness then-those mothers. didn't
All these things called confinement once.
A manly figure stands before me now
He is taller than |, has thick black whiskers
aud wears lrock coat, bosOmed shirt and
cravat. He has just come from college
He brings Latin and Greek In his counte-
nance, and busts Of the old philosophers for
the sittlng-room. lie calls me mother, but
| am rather unwilling TO own him.
He stOutly declares that he is my boy,
and says he will prove 1t. He brings me o
small pair of white trousers, with gay stripes
at the side, and asks If | didn't make them
for him when he Joined the boys militia
He says he is the very boy, too, that made
near having fire in earnest. lie brings
his little boat to show the red stripe on the
sail (it was the end of the pieoe,) and the
name on the stern--''Lucy Iowa little
girl of our noighborhood, who, because oil
her long curls ana pretty round face, was
the chosen favorte of my little boy. Her
curls we're long since cut OIL, and she has
grown 10 be tall. handsome girl. How
the red comes to his face when he shows me
the name on that boat Oh see 1t all as
plain as II it were written in book. Ny
little boy is lost, and my big boy soon will
be Oh! l wish he were little tired boy
in long white gown, lying in his crib,
with me sitting by holding his hand in mine,
pushing the curls back from his forehead,
watching his eyelids droop, and listening to
his deep breathing.
If l only had my little boy again, how pa
tent would he How much | would bear,
and how little would fret aud scold |
can never have him back again; but there
are still many mothers who have not lost
their little boys l wonder if they know
they are living their best days-that now
is the time to really enjoy their children
| think if had been more to my little boy,
l might now be more to my grown up one.
-[Waverly Magazine.