Evansville daily journal. (Evansville, Ind.) 1863-1866, 1865-11-25

He had black eyes, with long lashes
red cheeks, and hair almost black and
curly. He wore a crimson plaid jacket,
with full trousers buttoned on; had a,
habit of whistlng, and liked to ask
questions; was accom- panied by a small
black dog. 1t is long while now since
he disappeared. have q very pleasant
house and much company. Every thing
has such an ordinary, put-away look
nothing about under foot--no dirt. But
my eyes are aching for the sight of whit
things and, cut paper on the floor; of
tumbled down card houses; of wooden
sheep and cattle; of popguns; bows and
arrows, whips, tops, go-carts, blocks and
trumpery. / want to see boats a-rigging
and kites Amazing. want to see
crumbles on the carpet, and paste spilled
on the kitchen table. Il want to see the
chairs and the table turned the wrong
way about want to see candy maxi
ing and corn-popping, and to hnd jack
knives and fish-hooks among my mus
Inns. Yet these things used to fret me
once. Tney say: SHOW quiet you are
here! OIL one here may settle his brains
and be- it peace" But my ears are
aching for the pattering of little feet;
for hearty shout, a shrill whistle, gay
ira la la for the crack of little whips;
for the noise of drums, ffes and tin trum
pets. Yet these things made me nerv-
They say "Ah | you have leisure,
nothing to disturb you. What heaps of
sewing you have time for r But / long.
to be disturbed. l want to be asked
for bit of string or an old newspaper;
for cent 20 buy q slate pencil or pea
NUS. want to be coaxed for piece
of new cloth for jibs and main sails, and
then to herR the same. / want to make
little flags, and bags to hold marbles.
want to be followed by little feet all over
the house; leased for bit of dough for q
little cake, or to bake pie in saucer.
Yet these things used to fdget me once.
, They say GAY you are not tied at
home How delightful TO be always at
leis ire for concerts, lectures and par
parties. No confinement for you. !"
But I want confinement l want to
listen forg the schoolbelf mornings, to
give the last hssty 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. j want to obliterate mud
stains, fruit stains, molasses stains, and
paints of all colors- / want to be sitting
by little crib of evenings, when weary
aittle feet are at rest, and prattling voices
ere hnshed, that mothers may sing their
1nllabys, and tell over the oft-repeated
stories. They don't know their happi-
ness then, those mothers; didn't. All
49, &hsrr. oaIla1 aou Ero~,no& orna
A manly figure stands before me now.
He 10 taller than /, has thick whiskers,
wears frock coat, a bosomed shirt, and
a cravat. BE has just come from college.
He brings Latin and Greek in his
countenance, and dusts of the old philo-
sophers from the sitting room. He calls
me mother, but am rather unwilling to
know him. He AYERS that he is my boy,
and says that he can prove it. He brings
his little boat to show the red stripe on
she sail (it was the end of the piece) and
the name on the stern--Lucy Lowe, a
little girl of our neighbor, who, because
If her long curls and pretty round face,
gas the chosen favorite of my boy. Tbs
curIs were long since cut off, and she
vas grown up to tall handsome girl
esw his face reddeDs as he shows me-
he name Of that boatl OIL see It al
IS plain as if it we're written in bosik
NJ little boy is lost, and my big bog ,Oil
Oos be. Oh, i wish he were littl
red boy in long white nightgown
ring in his crib, with ms sitting b.
folding his hand 10 mine, pushing thu
urls back from his forehead, watching
is eyelids dFoop, and listening to, hi
.eep breathing 7sesss3,