Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 39, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 June 1875 — LOST WILLIE. [ARTICLE]

LOST WILLIE.

BY BARBARA BRANDT.

Willie was sitting on the back-door step; his brainless straw-hat had “ blown somewhere round the corner” after “Sheppie,” the curly, yellow dog, had tired of it as a plaything; and the fervent August sun was doing its best to bleach Willie’s brown, curly locks; but Willie didn’t care for that. A pair of striped stockings and two dusty little slippers “ with moufs in the toes” were tucked carefully out of sight, under the lower step; and ten little brown toes were burrowing and squirming in the warm, black dust, for all the world like a party of jolly brown mice “ out on a lark.” Happy Will was sitting with one arm thrown over the neck of his dear old doggie, talking as fast as a merry tongue, that was seldom quiet, could wag. But Willie was a discreet fellow when in mischief, and, mindful of the bare toes and torn hat, his black eves kept glancing up at the closed blinds of the dining-room windows where he thought mamma “might be peaking.” “Sheppie, doggie, don’t you wish’t Willie boy’d kill ye an’ make a’ angel of ye? an’ your ole’ back would all fedder out to wings; honest an’ true, Sheppie.” “ Mamma,” busy about her household cares, heard vaguely the sound of Willie’s voice, droning away like a big blue bottle fly that has ventured into a bottle, but gave no heed to it until Will had repeated the last question in a louder tone. Mamma smiled softly to herself, saying half aloud: “I wonder why Will Is always talking so much about people, and pets even, dying and going to heaven; I wish he wouldn’t; it makes me nervous.” All was quiet for a few minutes, then mamma heard Willie say: “ Stop winkin’ your old eyes, an’ not speakin’, you ole feller! Nobody’s goin’ to kill you yet. Let’s go play.” Two or three war-whoops from Will, a sharp “ yip, yip,” from the dog, and then it was quiet again. By and by, with her dinner cleared away, the dining-room spick and span as Yankee woman’s hands could make it, and the soft breeze fluttering the white win-dow-shades pleasantly, Willie’s mother and auntie took out their work-baskets and seated themselves for a good afternoon’s talk of the dear old days in New England, for both the ladies were New Englanders transplanted not long before to the rushing, bustling, jostling West. This was Aunt Em’s first visit to Willie’s parents in their new home; consequently there was much to say and to hear, and the clock on the dining-room mantel had chirruped the hour twice before Willie was even thought of. Then his mother started up in real alarm. “ Where can Willie be?” said she. “How thoughtless we have been; it’s more than two hours since I last heard his voice, and I’m so afraid he’s wandered into the grove and is lost.” Fair and pleasant, just before the front door of Willie’s home stretched a beautiful grove of walnut trees, covering several acres of ground, and this same lovely grove had been to Mrs. Smith, Willie’s mamma, a nightmare and haunting vision in her sleep. She had never before allowed Will tQ he out of her sight for so long a time at once, and she heaped reproaches upon herself for her heedlessness.

Aunt Em, seeing the agitated state of the poor mother, tried to laugh away her fears, but a nameless something tugged at her heart the while she tried to say, bravely: “He’s safe enough about here somewhere; we will find him.” Aunt Em tied on her shade hat quite decorously, but Mrs. Smith only stopped to twitch Gretchen’s big, flapping cape bonnet from a nail by the kitchen door, and then put it on “ wrong side before," without stopping to look at it, and rushed out at the kitchen door calling loudly to Willie. Aunt Em, now thoroughly frightened' also, ran to all the out-buildings, calling his name over and over. . . -■ But no Willie answered. While Mrs. Smith searched the woodshed and carriage-house, auntie was climbing to the highest point of the haymow, half-believing that she should find her little favorite cuddled down in some cosy corner on the fragrant hay, fast asleep. But the search was a vain one. Com-ing-out at the open barn-door, she met Willie’s mamma coming toward her with such wild eyes of alarm that her heart fluttered with a strange fear. “Oh, Em!'the grove, that dreadful grove! Willie has wandered into the woods and is lost. Think of it! My baby-hoy lost in the lonesome woods." And the poor mother sank down upon a convenient wheelbarrow, a heap of utter misery, sobbing and rocking herself to and fro, stopping now and then to dry her eyes upon the cape of her bonnet, and moan: “How could I forget him! How could Ibe so careless!” fol. lowed "each time by a fresh burst of tears. . Presently Aunt Em, glancing up, saw Uncle Ned coming down the street. Perhaps he had seen something ot Willie on his way from the store.

Mrs. Smith rushed toward him with eager steps, Gretchen’s big bonnet flapping up and down like a signal of distress. “Oh, Ned! Willie! The woods! I always knew he would be lost there; what shall Ido? where can he be?’ Uncle Ned started in surprise and alarm; was his sister going mad or what was the trouble? Mrs. Smith’s Appearance was ludicrous in the extreme; her face, flushed and heated, was grimed with tears and dust, and the huge cape bonnet she wore, with its funny top-knot, a big bow that nodded and trembled with her sobs, looked so irresistibly funny that spite, of the real alarm, Uncle Ned frit he could not refrain from laughing. Mrs. Smith’s eyes flashed; and she was turning away, when auntie hastened to explain the cause of her excitement. Like a man Uncle Ned said: “Oh we shal} find him round here somewhere safe enough; shouldn’t wonder if he’s in the pen with his white piggy taking a nap, or down at the brook trying a swim with the ducks,” for Will’s exploits of this kind had ceased to alarm Hie family. But Willie was not to be found upon the premises, and consulting together the three decided to go in opposite directions to search for the little truant. AVhile Uncle Ned searched the grove for some trace of the lost boy mamma went from house to house in the immediate neighborhood of her home, asking eagerly: “Have you seen my Willie?” and Aunt Em went down the main street of the village putting the same question to each one she met, venturing even into the open doors of some of the houses where red-faced Germans sat drinking their afternoon lager with moon-faced frau and babies beside them. “No! no one had seen a little curly headed boy about three years old with a curly yellow dog beside'him.” Frightened and disappointed Aunt Em hastened home again to find .Willie’s mamma sitting disconsolately upon the door-step, crying and wringing her hands in anguish. Auntie hadno consolation to offer, and mutely put her arms about her neck and sobbed too. Where should they next look for the lost boy? Just then Uncle Ned came into the yard walking rapidly and swinging in his hand the tattered remnant of the little straw hat with which Will had started out this noon. Poor Mrs. Smith! her worst fears seemed to be realized. Her boy, her baby-boy must be wandering about somewhere in the depths of the grove, looking dismal enough to her now in the lengthened afternoon shadows. No wonder the mother-heart was nearly broken. Auntie didn’t feel like laughing now at the queer figure she cut; she, too, was half frantic with fear. They would alarm the neighbors, and have the grove thoroughly ransacked. He must be found! What would papa do when he came out from the city tonight, and no Willie to rush out to meet him? Suddenly a .thought flashed into auntie’s mind—a thought so full of terror that the blood crept back from her face to her heart, 'eaving it white, drawn with fear. Willie’s home was a nqw house which was built for them only this summer. At the corner of the house, on the opposite side from where they now stood, was a large cistern which had only recently been built, and which his auntie knew was full of water, and but loosely covered with bits of board. Beckoning to Uncle Ned, auntie led the way to the cistern. Too much alarmed to speak, she could only point to the spot, and sink down upon her knees among the big, burdoek leaves, covering her eyes with both hands to shut out the sight which she was sure awaited her. In a moruent or two, however, Uncle Ned was at her side speaking in a reassuring voice, for no Willie was lying in the cistern, only a few bits of board, and chips floating upon the water, revealed the fact that the meddlesome fellow had paid at least one visit to the place. • “ Of course, Em, you looked in the cellar?” said Uncle Ned. But Auntie hadn’t once thought of that, and, hugging this little shred of hope to her heart, she rushed to the door of the cellar, which stood wide open, followed closely by Uncle Ned. In among the bins of potatoes and barrels of apples they plunged, turning over empty boxes and barrels, and peeping under the cellar-stairs, calling “ Willie! Willie!” all the while.

Just as they were turning in disappointment to leave the place auntie’s eye fell upon a barrel in a dark corner which was yet unexplored. Hardly hoping to find the object of their search, they peeped over the brim of the barrel, and what do you think they saw? The cunningest picture possible! There lay the roguish little truant fast asleep upon a bed of clean, white shavings, his rosy face dust-stained and grimy; his brown curls, damp with perspiration, tumbled over his forehead; his pinafore berry-stained and torn, and his bare, brown toes scratched and bleeding from his tramp among the bushes and briers. One arm was hugged tightly about the neck of his dear old “Sheppie,” who raised up his head and winked solemnly at them two or three times from his big black eyes, as if to say: “ I’ve heard all this commotion for the last hour, but did you suppose I was going to bark and waken my young master?" With happy tears standing in her eyes auntie crept softly up the cellar stairs and beckoned to mamma. Mrs. Smith rose quickly, and followed to where Will lay, still sound asleep. And what didYhis most impetuous of mammas doTTt* ~ Without a word she caught sleeping . Will in her arms, hugged him* kissed him, and shook him vehemently, saying all the while: “You dear, dear, darling boy! You vexatious little rogue! How could you frighten me so? -I’ve a mind to punish you! You shall never, never go out of my sight again!” and ending all her incoherent exclamations with a great burst of tears. And the little rogue who had caused all this commotion and alarm only dug his bare toes into the soft dirt, and said: “If he’s a great woman an’ had lost his little boy an’ then he’d come home all safe ’nuff he guessed he’d be ’shamed of cryin’ like a great babv girl, an’ anyhow he’s hungry an’ wanted piece o’ pie.”— Houithhid. —Baked Meat Dumplings.—Take any cold veal, beef or tongue, chop very fine, slice some potatoes thin and add ;'mix a rich paste as for pies, make into dumplings, adding a large tablespobnful of the meat and potatoes to each, put in a pan and cover with gravy of flour, water and butter; bake until a rich brown.