New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1871-05-28
Bow Lost.

1
cheeks, and hair almost black and almost
| curly. He wore crimson plaid jacket, with
| full trOwsers, buttoned on had habit OF
| 'whistling and liked to ask questions; was
accompanied by small black dog. 1t is a
| long while now since he disappeared. have
| a very pleasant house and much company.
| My guests say, "Ah, it is pleasant here
| Everything has such an orderly, put-away
| lOok-nothing about under foot, no dirt u
But my eyes are aching for the sight OF
WRITINGS and cut paper on the floor, OF
tumble-dOwn card houses, of wooden sheep
| and cattle, of popguns, bows and arrows,
whips, tops, gO-carts, blocks and trumpery.
l want to see boats a-rigging and kites
| Amazing, 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-popping, and TO find jack-knives and
fish-hoOks among my muslins. Yet these
things used to fret me once. ,..
They say, "How quiet you are here, All!
one here may settle his brains and be at
peace" But my ears are aching for the pat
tering of little feet, for hearty shout, a
shrill whistle, a 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-noth-
ing to disturb you; what heaps of sewing
you have time for y But long to be asked
for a bit of string or an old newspaper, for
cent to buy a slate pencil or peanuts. |
want to be coaxed for piece of new cloth
for jibs or mainsails, and then to hem the
same. L want to make little flags. and bags
to hold marbles. / want to be followed by
little feet all over the house. teasing for a
bit of dough for little cake, or to take a
pie in a saucer. Yet these things used to
tidget me once.
They say, "Ahi you are not tied at home
How delightful to be always at liberty to
go to 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 bound
ing to school. | want frequent rents to
mend, and to replace lost buttons. l want
to obliterate mud stains, fruit stains, mo-
lasses stains, and paints of all colors. |
want to be sitting by little crib of eve
nings. when weary feet are at rest and
prattling voices are hushed that mothers
may sing their lullabies and tell over the
oft repeated stories. They don't know
their happiness then-those mothers. l
didn't. ALI these / called confinement
once.
A manly figure stands before me now.
He is taller than |; has thick, black whis
kers, and wears frock coat, bosomed shirt
and cravat. He has Just come from col
lege. He brings Latin and Greek in his
countenance, and busts of the old philoso-
pliers for the sitting room. He calls me
mother, but | am rather unwilling to own
him.
He stoutly declares that he is my boy,
and says that he will prove it. He brings
me small pair of trowsers with gay stripes
at the sides, and asks if | didn't make them
for him when he joined the boys militia.
He says he is the very boy, too, that made
the bonfire near the barn, so that we came
very near having fire in earnest.
He brings his little boat to show the red
stripe in the sail lit was the end of the
piecel and the name on the stern-"Lucy
Iowa little girl of our neighborhood.
who. because of her long curls and pretty
round face, was the chosen favOrite of my
little boy. Her curls were long since cut
of, and she has grown to be a tall, hand
some girl. How the red comes to his face
when he shows me the name ON the boat.
Oh, | see it all as plain as if it were written
in book. My little boy is lost, and my
big boy will soon be. Oh. wish he were
little tired boy in long white nightgown,
lying in his crib, with me sitting by, holding
his hand in mine, pushing the curls back
from 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 would
bear, and how little l would fret and scold
| can never have him back again; but there
are still many mothers who haven't yet
lost their little boys. | wonder if they
know they are living their very best days;
that now is the time to really enjoy their
children. l think if had been more to my
little boy l might now be more to my
GROWN nm one