Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1878-12-21

. on many delicate points, and asked
how many little boys she has, ano
whether she had seen his blue mon
key that performs on a yellow stick
and his ''rooster that crows If you
just blow in behind" He gets very
close to herand asks what that white
stuff on her face is, and what makes
her wear such 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 period of six or seven
years and costs much in anxiety,
/ broken window panes and mortified
I pride. He is afflicted with rats,
pigeons and other boyish COM
plants, which are harmless, but
annoying. He brings in six dirty
steel-traps to amuse his sick sister,
who grows worse under it, and in
his solicitude he straps his legs to
six feet of stills and stOops to enter
the door of her room, to the horror
and dismay of his mother. He
brings little notes from school, which
he tries to explain in a favorable.
light, but fails to convince hil par
entS that it was "only because Bill
Wilson dropped his slate on Abe
Hennegan's toes and made me
laugh" and throws real brick-b,tS
at his aunt, and Bridget is met with
battering blow from his head ia
ha ~ h. Il !,
she is bringing in the coal. He
makes life a burden, and home
snare and delusion. He tears the
comforts in more ways than one,
and Sits the pillow cases to match
them. Gradually he leaves off hi,
hurly-burly life and imperceptibly
glideS into
CHAPTER III.-"WHERE'S MY BLUE !
TIE?'
"Where is the backing brush? I |
am going to Lite surprise, and
won't be home till eleven. Is my /
percale shirt done up nice? / wish |
you'd make my collars sitter. | |
don't thank some one for throwing
my coat down and getting it wrin-
killed. all up. How do you like this
hat? Think it looks better than my
soft one 20 You will find the
all deserted about this
period, not a rat trap cumbers the
back yard. The wOod-shed theatre
Gals are all ended, the stills are put
away, the kites f rgotten window
glass is in perfect safety. The dust
has I'll ed up the rude initials in
Mrs. Williams cellar door, and
here is an unlimited quieta around
he house. Chairs stay in their
places, and pantalOOnS will no longer
bear cutting over for the boy. He
getS them now out of new stuff,
md mothers ''cut' will not satisfy
him. He is not in the way now,
md there is heavy pain at his
heart as she thinks that he
will never need her much any more.
rhe innocent eyes have a deeper |
meaning in them now. They have
aiken into their depths the reflec- :
ion of Il face younger than mothers, .
md life begins to lock real to them.
The world is Iull of homes where
hese pictures will be recognized
nd hung up ds a family portrait
ZONES where there are no sounds of
-Oung voices now. They grow ]
way into the great world so soon,
nd we put away the nameless feel
ng of desolatiOn as we do the cast ]
ii toys of their childhood, and when !
he evening of life approaches the
cart goes back along the track of
ime and is once more with the
hildren in the dear old long ago /
Night.