Fremont journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County [Ohio]) 1853-1866, 1865-02-03
A LITTLE WHILE.

A little while to walk this weary road
A little way to bear this weary load,
Then all our earthly pilgrimage shall cease,
And all shall wear the crown in perfect peace.
A little while to love with earthly love,
And then we share the "fulness'' from above;
A little time of darkness and of doubt,
Then the bright home whose light shall ne er
go out.
A little toll and sadness here below.
A little time to watch and plant and SOW;
Then Jesus calls his laborers away
Where everlasting joy and gladness stay.
A little time of wind and storm and rain,
And the shining heaven we shall gain;
A little time to toss on life's rough sea,
Then in that peaceful home our rest shall be-
a little while Oh Saviour make us strong,
To bear that little, though it oft seems long;
Guide thou our way with thine own loving hand
Till we shall enter in the Promised Land
BOY LOST.
He had black eyes with long lashes, red
cheeks, and hair almost black and curly. he
wore a crimson plaid jacket, with full trowsert
buttoned on; had habit of whistling, and hkeo
to ask questions; was accompanied by small
black dog. 1t is a long while now since he dis
appeared. L nave d pltoSau5 IAOusC dHN lnHCl
company. My guests say, "Ah! it is pleasant
to be here. Everything has such an orderly
put-away look-nothing about undertoot-nC
dirt. But my eyes are aching for the sight o
whittlings and cut paper on the floor; of tum
bled-down card houses; of wooden sheep anC
cattle; of pop-guns, bows and arrows, whips
tops go-carts, blocks and trumpery. want tC
see crumbles on the carpet, and paste split OF
the kitchen table. want TO see the chairs anC
the tables turned the wrong way about
want to see candy making and com-pOpplng
and to find lack-knives and tish-hooks among
my muslins. Yet these things used to fret nj
once. They say, "hOw quiet you are here!-
All one here may settle his brains, and be a
peace" But my ears are aching for the patter
ing of little feet; for a hearty shout, a shril
whistle, a gay ira la la for the crack of littl'
whips; for the noise of drums, flies and til
trumpets. Yet these things made me nervous
once.
They say, "Ah you have leisure-nOthiDg L
disturb you. What heaps OF sewing you hay
| time for!" But j long to be disturbed. wan
! to be asked for bit of string or an old news
paper; for cent to buy slate-pencl or pea
| nuts want to be coaxed for piece of nev
cloth for ibs and mainsails, and then TO hen
the same. | want to make little flags and bag
| to hold marbles. | want to be followed by lit
| tie feet all over the house; teased for bit Q
dough for little cake, OF to bake pie in a sau
cer Yet these things used to fidget me once
| They say @Ahl you are not tied at hOme.-
| How delightful to be always at liberty for con
eerts, lectures and parties No confinement TO
YOU" But want confinement. want to lis
| ten to the schOOl-bell of mornings, to give tn
| last hasty wash and brush and then to watcl
| from the window nimble feet bounding away Z
school. | want frequent rents to mend, and t
replace lost buttons. l want to obliterate mu'
stains, molasses stains and paints Of all colors
| want to be sitting by a little crib evenings
when weary little feet are at rest, and prattlin
voices are hushed, that mothers may sing thei
lullabys, and tell over the oft-repeated stories
They don't know their happiness then, thos
mothers; don't. All these things l called con
inement once.
/ A manly figure stands before me now. he
taller than l, has thick whiskers wears, frOc
coat, bosomed shirt and crayat. He has Jus
come from college. He brings Latin and Gree
in his countenance; and busts of the old philOs
ophers for the sitting room. He calls me me
! ther but am rather unwilling to own him.
/ He AYERS that he is my boy; and says he ca
prove it, He brings his little boat to show n
the red stripe on the sail lit was the end of th
piece) and the name on the stern. Lucy Low
a little girl of our neighbor, who because of ht
long curls and pretty round face, was the chose
fayorite of my boy. The curls were long sine
cut off and she has grown to tall. handsOI
girl. How his face reddens as he shows me th
name of the boat! Oh! / see it all as plain {
if it were written book My little boy is 10
and my big boy will soon be. Oh, l wish l
were little tired boy in long white nigh
gown, lying in his crib with me sitting by, hole
ing his hand in mine, pushing the curls bac
from his forehead, watching his eyelids droo
and listening to his deep breathing.
If | only had my little boy again, how p;
tient l would be! How much | would bea
and how little would fret and scoldi | ca
never have him back again; but there are sti
many mothers who have moi yet lost their lit
boys wonder if they know they are liviu
their best days; that now is the time to reall
enjoy their childrenl | think if had bee
more to my little boy, might now be more
my grown up one.-HODae -Hdgasi'se.