Stephens City star. (Stephens City, Va.) 1881-1883, 1881-10-22
The Boy of the Are.


doubtful. Sometimes we think him
hundred, so much sagaeity he develops !;
then again he is we'll characterized by
the French as the entant terrible. He
has very inquiring turn of mind, as
when he picked the chicken to see what
was under the feathers. He sailed his
little chip schooner on the half-hogs-
head, and finally tumbled into the swill.
He managed to tie a dish-t towel o1 the
calfs tail and let him loose. "Nater
capered, and what gymnastics followed.
Even Bridget laughed until the collie
ensued. One day, in some unaccount-
able way, he climbed to the ridge.pole
of the barn and then roared for some
one to rescue him from death, and fat,
old, wheezy grandpa must nearly kill
himself in getting his son and heir
down. All, "that boy' His red,
chubby face, his sang froid, his torn
trowsers. And what digestion he has
The saints defend him "Mary," says
grandfather, "that boy will certainly
kill himself" and grandpa is astonished
by the remark of his namesake that he
is "too previous" He looks at him
severely for a moment and then pro-
ceeds to fill up the plate.
But when he fell into the fish pond
back of the barn and they took him out
drenched and ashen faced, the sodden
ringlets about the still mouth, grandpa
was speechless. But when the life
came back the first word was "How are
you, grandpa? I had bite. And when
the tears coursed down the furrowed
cheeks, that boy" remarked "This is
q pretty wet time" One day he ran
away. He had determined to become a
tramp. For two days the household
was in an uproar and grandpa said, "if
they ever found him, they would chain
him up" When a good neighbor
brought him back he was grinning, one
shoe gone, hat invisible, jacket in shreds
and he had an appetite that was simply
enormous. But he was quieter for a
while. Allotted by Patrick, he drove
the donkey into the summer kitchen
one morning and tied him to the pump
handle, and when Bridget found him
she just put her apron over her head
and ran screaming away. He cut bar
Of shaving soap nicely out of a potato,
and his grandsire fumed and fretted be-
cause "that soap wouldn't lather," and
one evening when the old gentleman
had got drowsy he tied him to his chair
and then rang the bell furiously. He
told his aunt that his sire "swore a
great OATH" He probably said "Great
Cesar" as that was the favorite form
ula when the heavens were about to fall.
But that boy! Who can catalogue
Ills pranks, his quaint conceits, his
sweet, exasperating wilfulnees who
can phase the gracious Possibilities that
bend over him? What love finds it's
inspiration in this young immortal ?
What prayers and tears and hopes like
halo wreathe themselves around that
golden head? He may have genius
for getting into an awful muss and get
the neighborhood in panic. He may
lack in reverence and be especially in
opportune in his remarks when stran-
gers are present. He may be the scape-
grace for all household sins but, after
all, the eons salute thee, thou child of
the century Six thousand years open
their sepulchres of wisdom for thy
quest Thou art a rogue, the embodi-
ment of naughtiness, the twentieth CEN
tury in breeches, the enigma which no
one can guess, a human maze, but we,
in common with godfathers and god
mothers, salute thee!