Jasper County Democrat, Volume 10, Number 24, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 September 1907 — SCHOOL DAYS. [ARTICLE]

SCHOOL DAYS.

It’» lonesome ia the stable-yard and where the chlckena “peep,” It’a dull end etupld 'round thehouee.the kittens fast asleep; Old Towser, noelu* everywhere end huntin' 'round the place, Comes back to Whine and paw my knee and look up in my face: And mother. lu the kitshen there, amongst the pen* and thing*, Is busy, but I haven’t heard the song she always sing*; There’* something minin', somethin' wrong, that *pil*a the work and play— And don’t I know it? Well, I guest! He’s gone to school today! I try to work and not to think, but, tryln' all I can, I stop, and wonder why it’s still-no drummin' on the pan, Mo rustlin’ ip the apple tree, no splashln’ by the pump. And no one hid behind the post to “Boo!” and make me jump. ' And in the house its all so prim—no scattered book or blook, Mo laugh or shout, no nothin’ but the tickin’ 1 of the clock. > I look at ma and she at me; no need for us to say What alls us both; we know too well—he’s gone to school today. He startad out at half past eight, all rigged up in his best, And with tbe slate beneath his arm, the booki and all the rest; And mother fixed his tie once more, and did her best to smile, And I stood by and praised him up and laughed about his “style,” But when he marched off down theroad, and stopped to wave good-bp, ‘Twas kind of chocky in my throat and misty in my eve. Proud of him? Well. I rather guess! and happy, too, but say! It's mighty lonesome round the place—he's gone to school today. But 'tisn’t the lonesomeness alone that ails us, don’t you know; It isn't jest because he's gone till four o'clock or so; It’s like the little worsted socks that's in '.the bureau there, It’s like the little dreeses, too, that once he used to wear. The thought that somethin’s past and gone, outgrown and put away— That brings to mother’s heart and mine the bitter-eweet today; It’s jest another forward step In Time's unchangin’ rule— Our baby's left us now for good; our boy has gone to school. —Saturday Evening Post.