Cleveland morning leader. [volume] (Cleveland [Ohio]) 1854-1865, 1865-02-25
RnT Lost.

BE had black eyes, with long lashes, red
cheeks, and hair almost black and curly.
Helwore crimson plaid jacket, with full
trousers buttoned on had habit of
whiting, and liked to ask questions; was
accompanied by small black dog. It is
q long while now since he disappeared. I
have very pleasant home and see much
company. Ny guests say, at is so plea
SAINT to be here. Everything has such an
orderly, put-away look-nothing about un-
derfoot-no dirt" But my eyes are aching
for the sight of whittlings and cut paper
on the floor; of tumbled-down card
houses; of wooden sheep and cattle; of
pop-guns, bows and arrows whips, tops,
go-carts, blocks and trumpery. want TO
see crumbles on the carpet, and paste split
on the kitchen table. I want to see the
chairs and the tables turned the wrong way
about. 1 want to see candy making and
corn-popping, and to find jsck-knives snd
fsh-hooks among my muslins. Yet these
things used to fret me once. They say,
H How quiet you are here All one here
may settle his brains, and be at pesce." !"
But my ears are aching for the pattering
of little feet for hearty shout, q shrill
whistle, gay ira Ia Is; for the crack of
little whips; for the noise of drums, flies
and tin trumpets. Yet these thing made
me nervous once.
They say, "Ah you have leisure
nothing to disturb you. What heaps Of
sewing you have time forl" But l long
to be disturbed. I want 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
tor jibs and D1ainsails, and then to hem the
Same. want TO make little flags and bsgs
TO hold marbles. l want to be followed by
little feet all over the house; teased for bit
Of dough for g little cake, or to bake pie
in a saucer. Yet these things used tofdget
me once. They say, GAh you are not tied
st home. How delightful to be always at
liberty for concerts, lectures and parties
No confinement for you:h But 1 want
confinement. I want to listen to 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. 1 want frequent rents to mend,
and to replsce lost buttons. want to OBJ
iterste mud stains, molssses stains and
paints of all colors. want to be sitting
by little crib Of evenings, when weary
little feet are at rest, and prattling voices
are hushed, that mothers msy sing their
lullabies, and tell over the oft repeated rsto-
riss. They don't know their happiness
then, those mothers; don't. All these
things called confinement once.
A manly figure stands before me now.
he is taller than I, has thick Whiskers,
wears frock coat, bosomed shirt and a
crsvst. He has just come from college.
BE brings Latin and Greek in his eounte-
nance, and busts of the old philosophers
for the sitting-room. He calls me mother,
but sm rather unwilling to own him. He
ayers that he is my boy, and says that he
can prove it. he brings his little boat 10
show the red stripe on the sail (it was the
end of the piecel and the mama on the
stern, Lucy Lowe, q little girl of our neigh
Dor, who, because of her long curls and
pretty round face, was the chosen fsVorite
of my boy. The cu1ls we're long since cut
of and she has grown to tall, handsome
girl. How his face reddens as he shows me
the name on the boat OH see it all as
plain as if It we're written IN book. My
little boy is lost, and my big boy will soon
be. Oh, 1 wish he we're little tired boy in
long white night-gown, lying in his crib,
with me ritting by, holding his hand in
mine, pushing the curls back from his forev
head, watching his eyelids droop. and lis
tening TO his deep breathing.
If only had my little boy again, how
patient l would bel How much would
bear, and how little would fret and scoldi
1 can never have him beck again; but
there are still many mothers who have not
yet lost their little boys. I wonder if they
know they are living their very best days;
thst now is the time to really enjoy their
ehildrenI think if l had been more to
my little boy, might now be more TO my
grown up one.-HOne Magazine.