Like His Dad. I hear his mother's chiding voice "How come your trousers torn? An black as ink, sir, is that shirt you put on this morn. "Your feet are wet, too, I declare; you're muddy to your knees; it is too bad; you only care your mother, sir, to tease. "And those nice shoes - your Sunday best, that but three times you've worn, are scratched and scraped and all run down, the heel of one is gone. "Your hair is tangled in a snarl, and just look at that hand! It looks as though ‘twere never washed?? How dare you say ‘its tanned? "You've been a-fishing, sir, I guess - what I been to see the match? You'll have a lot of sickness sir; a pretty cold you'll catch. And thus she talks for half an hour, and only stops to say, "Your father'll hear of this to-night; I wonder what he'll say?" My friends in complimentary way declare to me they see a close resemblance - very marked -- between the boy and me. But nothing that they see in him in either form or face, Bespeaks my son as do his pranks - in these my own I trace. And why should I at tattered clothes or dirty ones repine? In him I live my youth again - God bless the boy! He's mine!