The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1862-04-11
BOY LOST.

He had black eyes, with long lashes, red
cheeks, and hair almost black and almost
curly. He wore crimson plaid jacket, with
full trousers buttoned on. Had habit of
whistling, and liked to ask questions. Was
accompanied by small! black dog. 1t is a
long while now since he disappeared. |
have very pleasant house and much COM
pany. My guests say, "Ah. it is pleasant to
be here Every thing has such an orderly.
put-away look-nothing about under foot, no
dirt"
But my eyes sre aching for the sight of
whittlings and cut paper upon the floor; 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 car
pet, and paste split on the kitchen table. |
want to see candy making and corn popping
and to find iacf-knives and fsh-hooks among
my musIins vet these things used to fret
me once.
They say, "How quiet You are here; ah, q,
here one may settle his brains and be at
peace" But my ears are aching for the
pat,erins of little feet; for 4 hearty shout
and shrill whistle, a gay tra-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, "Ah. you have leisure, nothing
to disturb you what heaps of sewing YOU
have time for. But long to be disturbed :;
| want to be asked for bit OF string or an
old newspaper for cent to buy slate pen
Gil or pea nuts. want to be coaxed for a
piece of new cloth for ibs and mainsails,
and then to hem the same; want to make
little flags, and bags to hold marbles. l
want to be followed by little feet all over the
house teased for bit of dough for little
cake, or to bake pie in saucer. Yet these
things used to fdget me once.
They say, 'Ah you are not tied at home.
How delightful to be always at liberty for
concerts, lectures, and parties-no confine-
ment for YOU
But want confinement 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 away
to school. want frequent rents to mend,
and to replace lost buttons; want to oblit-
crate mud-stains, frut-stains, molasseS-stains
and paint OF all colors. want to be sitting
by little crib of evenings, when weary little
feet are at rest, and prattling voices are hush
ed, that mothers may sing their luilabies,
and tell over the oft-repeated stories. They
don't know their happiness then-those
mothers. didn't. All these things call
ed confinement once.
a manly figure stands before me now.--
He is taller than |, has thick black whiskers,
and wears a frock coat, bosomed shirt and
cravat. He has just come from college
He brings Latin and Greek in his counte-
nance, and busts of old philosophers for the
sitting-room. lie calls me mother, but am
rather unwilling 10 own him.
( He stoutly declares that he is my boy, and
says he will prove it. He brings me small
pair of white trousers, with gay stripes al
I the sides, and asks if did not make them
for him when he joined the boys militia
He says that he is the very boy that made
the bonfire, too near the barn, so that We
came near having bonfire in earnest. He
brings his little boat, to show the red stripe
on the sail lit was the end of the piece and
the name on the stern-"Lucy Lowe'-a lit
tie girl of our neighbor, who, because of long
curls and pretty round face, was the chosen
favorite Of my little boy. Her curls wers
long since cut off, and she has grown to {
tall, handsome girl. How the red comes t.
his face when he shows me the name on thu
boat. O. see it all, as plain as if it wer,
written in book. My little boy is lost, an,
my big boy will soon be.
Now he puts on his overcoat. o! Luc,
Lowe, do you think am ready to give YOU
my boy yet? Poor Mrs Lowe. she has los
her little girl, too l suppose she is feeling
Just as bad as |.
He is there by this time, and Lucy is glad
and he IS glad-but L? am so lonesome
and yet want my boy to be happy. 1t il
growing dark must have lights. 0!
wish he were little, tired boy in a lonl