The weekly clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1863-1882, 1872-12-19

The following beautiful wait, which we
find ahoat in the newspaper sea, we publish
being confident that it Will repay "a perusal
by all:
He has black eyes with long lashes, red
checks, and hair almost black, and curly.
He wore a crimson plaid jacket, with full
trousers buttoned on; had habit of whit
Ting, and likes to ask questions; was accom-
panied by a small black dog 1t IS Il long
time since he disappeared. | have very
large house and much company. Every
thing has such an orderly, put away look
nothing under fo0t-no dirt But my ewes
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, tops, 60
carts, blocks, and trumpery.
want to see boats a-rigging, and kites
a-making. | want to see crumbs on the
carpets, and paste spilled on the kitchen
table. | want to see the chairs and tables
turned the wrong way about, ! want to see
candy-making and corn-poppin g, and to find
jack-kniyes and tish-hooks among my mus
Inns. Yet these things used to fret me once.
They say, how quiet you are here All
one may here settle his brain and be at peace
But my ears are aching for the pattering OF
little feet; for a hearty shout for shrill
whistle Tor a tra-la-la; for a crack of little
whips; for the noise of drums, flies and the
trumpets. Yet these things made m
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.
L want to be coaNed for a piece of new cloth
for jibs or mainsaiIs, 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; teased for a bit
OF dough for a little cake, or to bake a pie
IN saucer. Yet they say, "Ahi YOU are
not tied at home. How delightful to be Mt
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
nasty wash and brush, and then watch from
the window nimble feet bounding away to
school. | want frequent rents to mend, and
to replace lost buttons | want to obliterate
mud stains and paints of all colors; want TO
be sitting by little crib Of evening. when
weary little feet are at rest and prattling
voices are hushed, that mother may sing
stories. They don't know their happiness
then, these mothers; / didn't All these
things l called confinement at once.
\ manly figure stands before me now
He IS taller than l. has thick whiskers,
wears frock-coat, a bosomed shirt and era
vat. He brings Latin and Greek in his
countenanee, and dust of the old philoso-
pliers from the sitting-room. He calls me
mother but [ am 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 stripes on the sail Git was
the end of a piecel and the name on the
stern-Lucy Low, a little girl Of our neigh
bors, who, because OF her long curs and
pretty round face, was chosen favorite Of
my boy.
The curls were long since eat oil, and She
has grown up tail, handsome girl How
his face reddens as he shows me the name
of the boat Oh. ] see, it Is * plain as if
it were written in a book My little boy is
lost, and my big boy in a long white night
gown lying in his crib with me sitting BY,
holding his forehead, watching his evelids
droop and listening to his deep breathing.
If l only had my little boy again, how
patient would | be, How much l would
bear and how little | would scoldl | can
never have him back again; but there are
still many mothers who have not vet lost
their little boy. l wonder if they know
that they are living their best day that
now IS the time TO really enjoy their children!
think if had been more to my little boy
l might be more to my grown up son.