The Red Cloud chief., 1878-04-04
LITTLE BOYS.

Nv grave. Earnest hoy stood beside
my chair, his large dreamful eyes fol-
lowing tho course Of my rapidly NOV
ing pencil. and said softly. MAMA have
you written the letter for little boys
yctp" Not yet. my son." I said; ~
will soon. though" 90. in n day or
two" The blue eyes filled with n vague,
wistful light. and II sigh fluttered up
from his little heart--pcrhaps at the
memory of his oft-tried paticnce-his
own little disappoiniments, and he said.
low and softly. Mamma. I'm afraid
the little boys will get tired Of waiting"
The reproof vas so gently given. the
reproach so international, and yet 40
efficient. that l drew the fair face up to
mine. and kissing him. said. ~ will
write il tonight" and the little salts
fled heart had no thought that the moth
or would not keep her word.
wonder II the little boys ever real
i've what a blessing they are To their
mothers In the house. ~ well to their
fathers out Of il. know mothers off,
en- fret because Of their i~rrepressible
spirits and many wild pranks; but I
know equally we'll that no mother
among them all. would willingly miss
the sound Of their happy voices. the
sparkle Of their bright eyes. the clatter
Of their little muddy boots, or the litter
Of their busy hands. In one corner of
my sitting roOm--the cOeiest In the
whole house-stands . little square box;
covered with chalk marks and scratches
and scars; the fastening long ago gone,
and one hinge broken, and in that box
Il could never tell you what II con-
tainsi Such = treasury II IL. though,
to the little black headed boy with blue
gray eyes. whose quaint, old-loOking
little face bends over II 40 lovingly;
whose little brown hands add daily 10
its store. and who often empties II on
the carpet, spreading carefully about,
covering . very large space with such
endless numbers Of empty spools, nails.
screws. masses 81 tangled string. mar
bles. tops. letter blocks, bits Of bright
paper, pieces Of rusty iron. bits of
| shell and broken crockery-toys which
seem to have been through the wars,
and O. most precious Of all! an asth-
matte mouth organ, which long since
lost the power Of uttering any sound
save the most spAsmodic gasps and
VutulSiCN WoltS. AueTc ART WOuueTIul
things among its contents, after the lit
tie busy brown head il safely laid AWAY
upon its pillow. and l gather up the
scattered garments, the little wrinklei
boots, the mud-stainsd pants with pie.
thoric pockets, the torn and buttOnle~s
jacket. the gaily stripped stockings.
stiu rounded out with the impress OF
the t~ireless little limbs. l glance tender
~ at the little disabled box and bruised
and battered rocking chair. which all
| day long has seemed possessed with q
desire to trip, and wonder how I could
find so much fault with u little noisy
boy. And 50, in my heart there Is q
warm spot always for the bright little
fellows whom nobody appreciates right
", except their mothers. What house,
hold In all the land could do without
them Mothers often say they don't
know what to do with their boys; what
could they do without them?
And yet, whatever they do seems
sure to be wrong. The doors won't
shut easy with their hands on the knob
The boots will clatter and squeak, no
matter how easy he walks. His shout
will wake the neighborhood. repress It