Public ledger. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1865-1893, 1878-12-04

Boston She is questioned, also, on
many delicate points. He gets very
close to her and asks what that white
stuff on her face is, and what makes
Her wear such a funny little hat.
A few years of this Juvenile terror
and then appears another stage of the
boy. He gets a fever only appeased
by marbles. 1t is useless to head off
this phase if it is shut off in one
direction it breaks out more violently
in some other. 1t goes through a
period Of six or seven years and costs
much in anxiety broken window-panes
and mortified pride. He is afflicted
with rats, pigeons and other boyish
complaints, which are harmless, but
annoying. He brings in six dirty
steeltraps to amuse his sick sister, who
grows worse under it, and in his solicit
tude he straps his legs fast to six feet
stills and stoops to enter the door of
her room, to the horror and dismay of
his mother. He brings little notes
home from school, which he tries to
explain in a favorable light, but fails
to convince his parents that it was
" only because Bill Wilson dropped
his slate on Abe Hennegan's toes and
made me laugh" He carves his
awkward initials on old Mrs. Williams
cellar door and she threatens his ar
rest. He goes to see Humpty
Dumpty' and comes home and throws
real briekbats at his aunt, and Bridget
is met with a b~attering blow from his
head when she is bringing in the coal.
He makes life a burden and home a
snare and a delusion. He tears the
comforts in more ways than one and
Sits the pillow-cases to match them.
Gradually he leaves off his hurly- burly
life and imperceptibly glides into
CHAPTER Ill" WHERE'S MY BLUE
TIE?"
Where is the backing brush? !
am going to a little surprise, and won't
be home till eleven. Is my percalo
shirt done up nice? l wish you'd
make my collars sitter. | don't thank
some one for throwing my coat down
and getting it all wrinkled up. How
do you like this hat? Think it looks
better than my soft one?" You will
find the pigeon boxes all deserted
about this period; not a rat-trap cum
bers the back yard. The woodshed
theatricals arc all ended the stills
are put away; kites forgotten and win
dow glass in perfect safety. The dust
has filled up the rude initials in Mrs.
Williams cellar-door, and there is an
unlimited quiet all around the house.
Chairs stay in their places and panta-
looms will no longer bear cutting over
for the boy. He gets them now out of
new stuff, and mothers cut" will
not satisfy him. He is not in the way
now, and there is a heavy pain in
mothers heart as she thinks that he
will never need her much any more.
The innocent eyes have adeeper mean
ing in them now. They have taken
into their depths the reflection of a
face younger than mothers, and life
begins to look real to them.
The world is full of homes where
these pictures will be recognized and
hung up as family portraits-homes
where there are no sounds of young
voices now. They grow away into the
great world so soon, and we put away
the nameless feeling of desOlation as
we do the cast-otf toys of their child
hood and when the evening of life
approaches the heart goes back along
the track of time and is once more
with the children in the dear old Ions
ago.