Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1865-04-08
Row Lost.

He had black eyes, with long lashes, red
cheeks, and hair almost black and curly. lie
wore a crimson plaid jacket, with full trows-
ers buttoned on had a habit of whistling,
and liked to ask questions; was accompanied
by small black dog. 1t is long while now
since he disappeared. have very pleas
ant house and much company. Everything
has such an orderly, put-away look, -nothing
about under-foot-nO dirt But my eyes are
aching for the sight of WRITINGS and cut pa
per on the floor of tumbled down card hous-
es; of wooden sheep and cattle ofpop-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 carpet, and paste split on the kitchen
table, / want TO see the chairs and tables
turned the wrong way about l want to see
candy-making and corn-popplng, and TO hnd
jack knives and fish-hooks among the musllns.
Yet these things used to fret NE once. They
say, How quiet you are here All one here
NAV settle his brains, and be at peace. But
my ears are aching 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, "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 peanuts. l want to be coaxed for a
piece of new cloth for jibs and mainsils, 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 !;
leased for a bit of dough for little cake, or
to bake pie in a saucer. Yet these things
used to fidget me once. They say, All, you
are not tied at home. How delightful to be
always at liberty for concerts, lectures and
parties! No confinement 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,
l want frequent rents to mend, and to replace
| lost buttons l 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 little foot arc ut
rest, and prattling voices are hushed, that
mothers may sing their lullabys, and tell
over their oft-repeated 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 thick whiskers, wears a
frock coat, a bosomed shirt and a cravat. He
/ brings Latin and Greek IN his countenance,
and dust of the old philosophers for the sit
ting-room. He calls me mother, but am
rather unwilling to own 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 the sail, Gt was the end of the
piece) and the name on the stern, Lucy
Love-" little girl of our neighbor, who, be-
cause of her long curls and pretty round face,
was the chosen favorite of my boy. The ourls
were long since cut off, and she has grown to
a 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 were written in a
book. Ny little boy is lost, and my big boy
soon will be. Oh, wish he were little
tired boy in long white night-gown, lying in
his crib, with me sitting by, holding his hand
in mine, pushing the curls back from his fore
mead, watching his eyelids droop, and listen
ing to his deep breathing.
If | only had my little boy again, how pa
tient would be- How much l would bear,
and how little would fret and scold ! cap
never have him back again but there are
still many mothers who have not yet lost
their little boys. l wonder if they know
they are living their very best days; that
now is the time to really enjoy their children
/ think if had been more to my little boy, ]
might be more to my grown up one.