The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1888-11-14
A Kite With q Tale.

Papa, will you make me KITE"
1t was Hartwell, my little boy, who
spoke.
"Go away, my son, and don't bother
me about making kites. l have some
thing more important to do"
The little fellow said no more, but
with look of disappointment, turned
away. was quite busy that day, OF
what I considered an important mat
ter; yet, in spite of my pre-occupa
ton, that sad look of pain and disap
pointment which my impatient an
swer had caused my little son would
obtrude itself upon my mental vision
My conscience smote me for not, a
least, being little milder in my refus
al to grant his childish request.
knew that I had spoken in an unnec
essarily harsh manner, and vainly
tried to reconcile my accusing con
science with the lame excuse OF hav'
ing been too busily engaged to give
any but short answer. All! too busy
to give a little child a civil answer. A
poor apology, surely!
Suppose a neighbor had dropped in
to borrow something of me; would
have answered hana so curtly? Indeed
not. On the contrary, [ would in al
probability not only have granted his
request, but perhaps have squandereo
a half-hour or more in useless gossip
simply "out of politeness." And YET
"too busy" to spare five minutes to ex
plain in a kindly manner to my little
boy why could not comply with his
request!
What made me appear to myself
more culpable was the fact that I had
seen the little fellow taxing his own
ingenuity to its utmost in a vain at
tempt to make the longed-for kite
and it was not until his own crude lit
tie efforts had utterly failed that he ap
pealed to me. He had seen papa" dc
so many little things requiring more
or less mechanical skill that he very
naturally concluded (and rightly, too,
that could easily make kite.
That afternoon, at leisure interval
I got a hoop off an empty fiour-barrel
and whitfield out bow for my boys
kite. The next day I had business in
town, and did not forget to 60 to the
drug store and procure few sheets OF
light, strong minila paper and ball o1
twine. Returning home, I stopped al
a wood-shop and found some light
pine strips in a pile of rubbish. l go1
home an hour or more before sunset
and finding some starch which hat
been left from the weeks ironing, by
nightfall my little boy was happy ii
the possession of a neat, strong kite o.
"papa's own make" completed with
out the actual sacrifice of an hour o.
time from serious occupation.
The next day at noon the kite wa:
dry and "ready for business" as my
little boy said, and I went out upon al
adjacent common with him, and ht
was soon taught Chow to make it sail
The great joy it gave his childish hear
was reflected with renewed strength
upon my own, and I then realized the
pleasing conviction that the time
had spent thus to amuse him was moi
wasted.
"Indeed," thought I, imam is but 6
child grown up," and the child is tru
ly "father to the man." for the paper
kite he flies in childhood often turns
into speculative kite of questionable
honesty in manhood. How many o.
us, alas! now look back with remorsf
at times worse than wasted upon this
sort of kite flying; but none of us evel
did or ever will experience pang o
regret for the kites we sailed in child
hood.-Babyhood.