THE SADNESS BEHIND THE VALE.

A life of self-denial and sacrifice is the grandest object the sun shines on. There is nothing under the azure skies of heaven so worthy of true merit as the pure, unspotted and unselfish heart of a sacrificing mother. How my heart aches for the poor, worn and tired mother whose whole life is confined in four walls with three or four children, laying claim to her entire time and attention. You do not find these kind of women saturated with society; they are not fanatics on woman suffrage nor are they riding through the streets in a limousine with a good-for-nothing yellow-nosed pup sitting beside them. In common decency how can any woman with any affection or mother love center it upon such an object as a despicable, worthless pug-nosed cur. If it was a dog like a Shepherd, St. Bernard, Newfoundland, and many others, there would be a little better taste shown, but when it is confined solely to the mongrel whelps and Teddy bears I think it is high time to pick up the Bible and read the thirty-second chapter of Isaiah from the first to the twelfth verse inclusive. Lord, but it is pitiful to see such things committed when there are thousands and thousands of poor little homeless girls and boys starving to death for some one to love them, give them a home and then see a poodle woman and her poodle dog go rushing by.

For a long number of years I have had the pleasure of being acquainted with one of G.o.d's self-denial mothers. If this earth contains anything sweeter and the next world anything better the mind of man so far hasn't been able to conceive it nor the Bible to reveal it. In her early womanhood and all through her life she has been frail, small-boned, short of stature, delicate, and very unmuscular. Her's was not the physique to struggle as she has against life's tremendous battles, but she took up the burden cheerfully, looked every difficulty in the face squarely and openly and lifted her voice to the ever-listening ear and overcame every obstacle with gentleness and love. When heartaches, pains and sorrows seemed so heavy that human endurance could no longer stand the strain and tension, she would, through the channels of her wonderful self-control, step from beneath the heavy clouds of trials and sorrows out into the sunshine of G.o.d's holy love and stand master and conqueror of every trial. The loyal battles she has swept with victory are worthy of such praise and eulogy that the human mind can not find words choice enough to meet it.

Poverty with all its worry can not engulf her, for she has that faith that there will be a way provided and she determines, and the mountain is seen moving in the distance. No time to partake of many pleasures is her lot; she must study her every day cares, rear her children, school, clothe, and provide for them. Many times a tear stands where joy should be. It is beyond all understanding why her cross should be so heavy when every atom of her strength has been used to make the world better, but no matter how heavy the load is, how painful the head might ache, or how discouraging the teacher, the present every day conditions must be met and the sooner begun the sooner ended. Every minute is occupied or the acc.u.mulation of wasted time makes the burden heavier.

The hands work and the mind works. Neither can rest and accomplish the needs, and while the hands iron and bake and wash, the mind is occupied on what the hungry mouths demand, and how an old coat or vest or an under garment can be made into an article of service.

These are the kind of women worth while; these are the kind that more than do their part in sustaining a great government. Her lot is not a pleasant one, but she hands down to posterity a better and more substantial foundation for better government than any cla.s.s of women in our nation; her life is an open book where the entries are made on each day's pages. On page after page you can see where the tears have fallen, where the struggle has been so keen and bitter that hope had almost fled; but turn the page and you will find renewed hope. The ever-listening ear has heard the words bathed in grief and the answer came, "Blessed are they that mourn for they shall be comforted." How a few dollars from some good-hearted philanthropist would ease the way for this poor little struggling woman. Why is it when she has reached the point in life where she should expect the most the least is at hand? She has pa.s.sed the thirty-eighth mile post, with the odds strongly against her. The system is torn down more rapidly than it can be built up.

Everything seems to combat against her and endeavor to overwhelm her, but sorrows, discouragements, trials, hardships and heartaches with their utmost collective strength have not been sufficient to thwart or encompa.s.s her. Every one has been defeated, the cost has been gigantic, it has stooped her shoulders, chiseled deep creases in her brow and cast snow among her locks, robbed her of comforts due her and strewn old age where youth should be. The sad face still smiles and with an unconceivable determination she meets every foe in the great battle field of life and crushes them.

She does it from close application of that wonderful story of love that is found in the fifth chapter of the Gospel of St. Matthew from the third to the twelfth verses inclusive. The greatest solace to aching hearts the world has ever known. The struggle would have never been met and conquered if she had depended on her own strength, she needed a higher source to guide her and in every struggle the lowly man of Galilee stood beside her and when the cross became so heavy that she stumbled and was ready to fall, his loving arm was ready to shield and sustain her.

With all her pains and trials there came into her life one night the greatest sorrow of all, and although the load she had carried far overtaxed her strength she had to bear another and heavier one. Her little sweetheart boy of nearly two years old came toddling in one day with the cruel marks of a fatal sickness on his sweet little face, and after three days and nights of long vigil the tired mother laid down to rest, and as she slept on a pillow bathed with tears the pure little innocent soul was gathered into the arms of angels and carried away.

Years have pa.s.sed, but the pain lingers and when the thoughts go back to the silent form in the little white casket the tender heart of this pure woman is so engulfed in sorrow that it seems it is entirely beyond all human endurance and patience. It is then this still, small voice she has known so long, again speaks and says: "Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest."

How her dear heart did ache when the death angel trod And took back her boy to his maker and G.o.d; No sorrow nor pain nor heart aches nor tears Are ever more known where he takes these small dears.

There is something so sad in the valley of death, When the heart stops its beat and there's no longer breath!

That angels must come to ease up the pain, And open the soul to let the tears drain.

How long are the years and how many it takes Before there is peace from the burning heart aches!

The home is so lonely so silent and still There is something gone out that nothing can fill.

His little things stand where he left them one day, The little toy dog all ready for play, The big choo choo train and the horse he called Bill, All wait for the hand that is silent and still.

GRAt.i.tUDE.

Few people care to listen to your sorrows, trials and burdens if you are not succeeding. If you succeed, everybody is grabbing for the stock no matter how well filled with water it is. They point with pride at the successful man as he saunters by; he can do a great many things that are shady, but on account of his success and prominence they are hushed up and never rise above a whisper; he's dined and wined; gets cut prices on everything he consumes; rebates from the railroads and special privileges in the churches. But take the poor fellow that each day's debts eats up his pay roll and we never hear of his fine qualities until we read his obituary.

If you will take a few leisure moments and look up the meaning of the word "grat.i.tude," you will find that there are few words that surpa.s.s it in quality, love and kindness. It cl.u.s.ters near the soul and is properly a virtue. In this life it is very hard to be misunderstood and undervalued by those we love, but this too in the journey from the cradle to the grave we must learn to bear without a murmur, for it's a tale often repeated.

Any one who has given their time, talent and attention serving the dear people, either as a Town Trustee, member of the School Board, Mayor, or any of the petty offices of small towns and villages, used his best judgment in endeavoring to meet every issue honestly, fairly and squarely, wins for his gratuitous services the everlasting displeasure of his const.i.tuents.

No matter how hard you strive or how honest you may be there come up little intricate issues where there is no middle course and no matter what stand you take some people charge you with graft and dishonest motives. Any one who can serve for one term and is so unfortunate and foolish as to accept another, has acquired a character so colored that it takes from ten to fifteen years in our best Sunday Schools to wash out the stains.

Don't ever feel elated or think you are popular because you are elected and people call you alderman, for the first thing they will do will be to slip out that pleasant, sweet sounding word "Alderman" and put in "Grafter" with the thumbscrews set. They'd call you a grafter if they personally know the treasury had been depleted for fifteen years. My, the pleasures of a gratis councilman!

I have heard of people losing their minds for long intervals and then suddenly regain them and I have often wondered if they had been favored with an aldermanic pleasure and the mind commenced to slip into s.p.a.ce, I wonder if when the cog alderman appeared if it wouldn't cause such a jolt that it would clear the whole mental atmosphere. Perhaps there is one redeeming feature and if it wasn't for some consolation the pictures and scenes would be so indelibly impressed that you would be able to recall them long after you'd said "Amen."

The spirit of revenge and retaliation were never very deeply imbedded in my make up. The seed being lightly sown I used the harrow instead of the cultivator and got it out. I am glad I did; it has helped me to get a good night's rest instead of fondling and caressing discolored orbs that might have come in sudden contact with solid and knotty obstacles.

I bought a small business one time from a devout Presbyterian; I had the greatest confidence and trust in him, which I had a sad right to have.

If false colors are carried we must find it out because they carry no notice to warn us. Well, anyway, he spread the tempting menu of his careful preparation in great shape. He was pleasant, courteous and very entertaining. The way he figured up the invoice you'd thought mathematics was his specialty. His tongue kept pace with his pencil and after everything was figured up he brought up the "Bonus Good Will" part and I really thought he was letting me do him a favor by giving him one hundred iron men. You see I wanted his good will along with everybody else's.

I am glad I learned about this "Good Will" business. All told "Good Will" and "Bonuses" have cost me nine hundred and thirty-three dollars thirty-three and a third cents. Don't try to fool me on "Good Wills"

again; they're a drug on the market, very unsaleable and unpopular to your humble servant.

After I paid the "Good Will" price and everything was agreeably settled I started in with my maiden business. Going through the bags and some other stuff in the back room a few days afterwards, I discovered bags invoiced and paid for at one hundred pounds shy. "Shy," I said, and he a Christian! This taught me that there are eighty and ninety pound Christians. The loud smelling, decaying and life moving gunny sacks contained prepared meats for poultry. I quit in disgust and went into the front department; a fellow stepped in and said, "How is business?"

and I answered "Rotten." A frank acknowledgment of a painful truth.

Other things ran about the same; the horses were sold as unblemished, sound as a dollar, etc., and mind you, he a Christian and ministers dropping in every few days and talking and planning how to increase the congregation. My, I'm glad I used that harrow! When I sold out the business, I marked down experiences one thousand dollars. I felt pretty blue after I had lost the thousand bones I worked hard to get, and it used to be when I got the blues I eased my mind with graveyard poetry; pardon me for inserting it here.

If I should die tonight how few would care; Perhaps some heart would ache, some one somewhere, Some might cast a lingering look, a tear And tremble with emotion at my bier, But before many days would pa.s.s away, Before my silent form would turn to clay, I'd be forgotten and alone, And not a heart to ache or moan.

Oh! this bitter, lonely life's a snare, The kind friends you hear so much about are rare.

Some may mean it in their hearts but feign And measure men by dollars not by brain.

A friend came to me one time and said he was in pressing financial straits and asked me to loan him fifteen dollars for two weeks. I granted the request and the loan was made. I thought I was familiar with the calendar and knew when two ordinary weeks ended, but those two weeks were the longest I have ever known. Fortnight after fortnight pa.s.sed and no end came. Long and endless weeks of this kind might be all right for the man facing the electric chair, but they had no solace for an individual anxious to get married and needing the husky "Simoleans" to furnish a cage for his waiting bird.

One day I met the overdue biped and I said, "How about it?" I was young then and I thought I could glide in as easy this way as well as any phrase I had in my limited vocabulary. "Well," he said, "I'll tell you what I'll do. I know you are about to plunge in the matrimonial sea and I have a proposition to offer you. I have a good standard make of organ that I don't need and if you will give me forty-five dollars and forget about that previous fifteen we will call the transaction closed and drop the curtain."

"All right," I said, "here is your money."

That organ may not be in existence yet, but it's in my memory fresh as ever. I couldn't play it, for it was all I could do to carry a tune when it was tied in a bag. I had no wife to play it and I couldn't keep it and get married, I was in a desperate condition one day when I walked into a hardware store, that is a store, you know, where they keep ware that is hard, frying pans, dish pans, bread pans, etc., you know what those things are for. "Well," I said to the village wit behind the case, "I'll trade you that organ for enough household paraphernalia to cook with, take care of enough viands and stuff or whatever you call it, to keep two people about to start out together; each now separate and apart but very anxious to be united." "Agreed," he said, "hand over that list you've got with the articles on and I'll have them ready in a short time."

Funny, isn't it, how the wind is tempered to the shorn lamb, but how about the one ready to be shorn when there isn't even a zephyr blowing.

Well, the deal was transacted, exchange made, and that is how I got my household goods when I married dearie. The financial report read like this: Actual cash in organ, sixty dollars; actual worth, forty-five dollars; second actual value in organ, forty-five dollars; actual value of pots and pans twenty-five dollars, experience and pleasure of making a two weeks' loan, thirty-five dollars. This was not putting a premium on "Bliss" for a fellow just getting ready to carry the matrimonial load.

The weight would have been some lighter if that weasened faced Dutchman had not worked off on me a left handed frying pan for a right-handed bride, and was so extremely liberal on the good deal he had made that he threw in a second hand mouse trap when the new ones sold six for a dime.

This was the first time I saw tears in my wife's eyes. The fountain was opened and they flowed freely. Those tears were trivial to the tears we've in shed later life, but those first tears moved me to almost unconsolable grief and the emotion caused a flow of poetry. It's not very long and will not tire you much, so I will slip it in here as a filler.

Cheer up, little darling, You know my love is true, And nowhere in this great big world Is a sweeter girl than you.

I have loved you always Trust me fully, dear, Let me be your shining star I'll sparkle when you're near.

And all along our pathway We'll never pluck a thorn, But will pluck the roses In life's dewy morn, Roses are more fragrant, They'll give us better cheer And the thorns we'll cast aside, They are worthless, dear.

When I was a County Clerk and exceedingly busy pushing the quill over the big records, a M. E. Minister came in one day and accosted me with that word that arouses confidence. Brother, he said, we are figuring on a short order annex to the church, (remember that word SHORT?) and we, of course, couldn't slight you and if you will kindly donate as liberally as possible the Lord will bless you abundantly, for you know he loves a cheerful giver, and etc., and etc. Well, I responded. When you get your subscription list in these parts drop in and I will help you.

I know what an annex to some of the churches without or with cook stove means. It seems nowadays, as the prophecies are being filled, some churches deem it necessary to feed the stomach before the soul, realizing, I presume, a full stomach is a twin brother to a big heart.

They beg the food and the utensils to serve it in from uncheerful givers and then dispense it cautiously and sparingly, the more sparingly the more money for the Lord. When the ice cream is served they forget all about scriptural measure of "Heaped up and running over" and run it under. If one dish of scriptural measure can be stretched into four dishes of worldly measure, there is forty cents instead of ten. High finance, you see! I've often thought a society of this kind that would squeeze down the measure on ice cream procured at a minimum cost, would bear watching if they were running a milk wagon with a pump near. If any one else gets money in this way they call it an unearned increment. What would Jesus call it? I really would be afraid to express my thoughts at that kind of a meeting for fear they'd request the parcel post.

In a few days the brother dropped in and hoisted from his inside pocket the subscription list and handed it to me. I glanced over it casually, as is natural in such cases made and provided, to see who were the cheerful givers. After concluding what I thought was a liberal donation and really beyond what a man of my means should give I put down forty dollars and handed the paper back to him. The ungentlemanly gentleman took it and looked at it and said, "Well, we expected much better than this from you." You know what feelings ebb and flow within you when you get a snub like this. I could feel the Irish blood chasing the English blood at a hazardous speed, but I said nothing and was glad again of the early use of that harrow.

JUST POEMS.