The weekly North-Carolina standard. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 186?-1869, 1867-07-10
G BOY LosT.n

The following beautiful waif which we
find afloat in the newspaper sea, we publish,
being confident that it will well repay a
perusal by all, and by our lady friends in
particular
"He has black eyes, with long lashes, red
cheeks, and hair almost black, and curly. =
He wore crimson plaid jacket, with full
trousers buttoned on; had habit of whit
Ting, and liked to ask questions; was &C.
complained by small dog. 1t long time
since he disappeared. I have very pleas
ant house and much company. Everything
has such an orderly put-away look
nothing under foot-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 cattle and sheep, OF
popguns. bows and arrows, whips, toys, 60
carts, blocks and trumpery.
81 want to see boats a-rigging, and kites
making. I want to see crumbs on the
carpets, and paste spilled on the kitchen ta-
ble want to see the chairs and tables
turned the wrong way about. I want to see
candy making and corn-popping, and to
find jack knives and fish-hooks among my
muslins. Yet these things use to fret me
once. They say how quiet you are here
All one may here settle his brains and be at
peace. Bnt my ears are aching for the pat
tering of little feet for q hearty shout; for
shrill whistle; for ira Ia 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: All! you have leisure; moth
ing disturbs you. What heaps of sewing you
have time for But long to be disturbed.
want to be coaxed for piece of new cloth
for jibs or mainsail, and then to hem the
same want to make little flags, and bags
to hold marbles. want to be followed by lit
tie Charlie all over the house teased for bit
of dough for little cake, or to bake piei a
saucer. Yet they say say, All you are
not tired at home How delighted to be at
liberty for concerts, lectures and parties
No confinement for you. But want con-
fnement 1 want to listen for the school
bell mornings, to give the last hasty wash
and brush, and then watch from the window
nimble feet bounding away to school. l
want frequent rents to mend, and to re-
place lost buttons l want to obliterate
mud stains, and paints of all colors; want
to be sitting by little crib, of evenings,
when weary little feet are at rest, and pratt
ling voices are hushed, that mother may sing
and tell stories. They don't know their hap
piness then, these mothers; didn't All these
things called confinement once.
"a manly figure stands before me now, he
is taller than /, has thick whiskers, wears
frock coat, and bosomed shirt and cravat.-
He has just come from college He brings
Latin and Greek in his countenance. and
dust of the old philosophers from the sitting
rooms He calls me Mother but am I'M
willing 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 strings
on the sail Git was the end of piece and
the name on the stern-Lucy Low, little
girl of our neighbours, who. because of her
long curls and pretty round face, was the
chosen favorite of my boy.
"The curls were long since cut off, and
she had grown up tall, handsome GIRL
How his face reddens as he shows Inc the
name of the boat. Oh ! see it as plain as if
it were written in book. My little boy is
lost, and my big boy, in long, white night
gown, lying in his crib, with me sitting by,
holding his forehead, watching his eyelids
droop, and listening to his deep breathing.
{" If l only had my little boy again, how
patient would be! How much 1 would
bear and how little I would scold! I can
never have him back again; but there are
still many mothers who have not yet lost
their little boy. wonder if they know they
are living their very hest day; that now is
the time to really enjoy their childrenl 1
think if had been more to my little boy, 1
might be more to my grown up son."