The Lambertville press. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1858-1???, 1861-04-24
Boy Lost.

red cheeks, and hair almost black and
almost curly. He wore crimson
plaid jacket, with full trousers, but
toned on. Had habit of whistling
and liked to ask questions. Was ac-
companied by a small dog. It is
long while now since he disappeared.
| have a very pleasant house, AMI
much co mpany. My guests say, All
it is pleasant here F! Everything has
such an orderly, put-away look
nothing about under foot, no dirt y
But my eyes are aching for the sight
of WRITINGS and cut paper on the
floor; of tumble down card houses;
of wooden sheep and cattle; Of pop
guns, bows and arrows, whips, tops 60
carts, blocks ard trumpery Want
to see boats a-rigging and kites ma
king, crumbles on the carpet, and
paste split on the kitchen table. l
want to see the chairs and tables turn
ed the wrong way about / want to
see the candy making the corn pop
ing; and to find jack-kniVes and fish
hooks among my muslins; yet these
things used to fret me once.
They say" How quiet you are
here alb one here may settle his
brains and be at peace. But my ears
ached for the pattering Of little feet;
for a hearty shout. shrill whistle,
gay ira la la, for the crack of little
whips, for the noise of drums, flies
and tin trumpets yet these things
made me nervous once.
They say" All (! yon have leasure
nothing to disturb you what
heaps Of sewing you have time for. "
But | long to be asked for a bit of
string or an old newspaper for cent
to buy slate pencils or peanuts. |
want to be coaxed for piece of new
cloth for jib or main sails, 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 bitof dough
for little cake, or to make pie in a
saucer. Yet all these things used to
fidget me once.
They say-"Ah you are not tied to
home. How delightful to be always
at liberty to go to conc erts, lectures.
and parties; no confinement for you"
Bnt want confinement; | want to
listen for the school bell mornings; to
give the last hasty brush, and then
to watch from the window, nimble
feet bounding to school. | want fire.
quent rents to mend, and to replace
lost buttons; want to obliterate mud
stains, molasses stains and paints OF
all colors. / want to be sitting by
little crib of evenings when weary feet
are at rest, and prattleing voices are
husbed, that mothers may sing their
lullabies, and tell over the oft repeat
ed stories. They don't know their
happiness then those mothers, | didn't.
All these things called confinement
once.
A manly figure stands before me now.
| He is taller than ], has black whisk-
| ers and wears frock coat, bosomed
shirt and cravat. He. has inst come
from college. He brings Latin and
Greek in his countenance, and busts
of the old philosophers for the setting
room. He calls me his mother but |
am unwilling to own him.
He stoutly declares that he is my
boy, and says that he will prove it
Tie brings me a small pair Of pants
with gay stripes at the side, and asked
if 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
very near having fire in earnest
He brings me his little boat to show
the red stripe en- the sail Git was the
enc of the piece, and the name on tie
stern" Lucy Iowa little girl OF
our neighborhood, who because of
her long curls and pretty round face
was thus chosen favorite of my little
boy. Her curls were long since been
cut off, has grown to be tall hand
girl. How the red comes to his face
when he shows me the name on the
boat. Oh / Sc it all as plain as if it
were written in book My little
boy is lost, and my big boy will soon
be. Oh I wish he we're a little
tired boy in long white nightgown,
! lying in his crib, with me sitting by,
holding his hand in mine, pushing the
curls back from his forehead watch
ing his eyelids droop, and listening to
his deep breathing.
III only had my little boy back
again, how patient would be ! How
much would bear end how little /
would fret and scold can never bring
himlbackIagain but there are still many
mothers who havn't lost their little
boys. / wonder if they know they