The Sierra citizen., 1854-02-11

Deen wanting to hnlsh the work OF .ate, the
desolatiOn of his native cottage would have
been sufficient. He stretched himself on the
pallet, on which his widowed mother had
passed many sleepless night, and never
rose from it again.
The villagers, when they heard that
George Somers had returned, crowded to
see him, offering every comfort and assist
ance that their humble means afforded. He
was too weak however, to talk; he could
only look his thanks; His mother was his
constant attendant and he seemed unwil-
ling to be helped by any other hand.
There is something in sickness that breaks
down the pride of manhood, that softens
the heart and brings it back to the feelings
of infancy. Who that has languished, even
in advanced life, in sickness and despOnd-
ency-who that has pined on weary bed,
in the neglect and lOnelines of a foreign
land, but has though on the mother, that
looked on his childhood, that smoOthed his
pillow and administered to his helplessness?
o! there is an enduring tenderness in the
love of a mother to a son, that transcends
all other affections Of the heart. 1t is
neither to be chilled by selfshness nor daunt-
ed by danger, nor weakened by worthless
ness nor stifled by ingratitude. She will
sacrifice every comfort to his convenience;
she will surrender every pleasure to his en-
joyment; she will glory in his fame, and
eXult in his prosperity; and, if adversely
Overtake him, he will be the dearer to her
by misfortune; and if disgrace settle upon
his name. she will still love and cherish
him; and if all the world beside cast him
off, she will be all the world to him.
Door (oorua had lyonvyy, yva11
what it was to be in sickness and have none
to sooth-lonely and in prison, and none to
visit him. He could not endure his mother
would follow her. She would sit for hours
by his side, watching him as he slept
Sometimes he would start from a feversh
dream ,and look anxiously up until he saw her
venerable form bending over him; when he
would take her hand, lay it on his bosom
and fall asleep with the tranquility of a
child. In this way he died.
My first impulse, on hearing this humble
tale of afflctlOn, was to visit the cottage
of the mourner, and administer pecuniary
assistance, and if possible comfort found
however on enquiry, that the good feelings
Of the villagers had prompted them to do
every thing that the case admitted; and as
the poor know best how to console each
others sorrows, did not venture to in
trude.
The next Sunday l was at the village
church; when to my surprise, | saw the
old woman tottering down the aisle to her
accustomed seat on the steps of the altar
She had made and effort topnt on something
like mourning for her son; and nothing
could be more touching than this struggle
between pious affection and utter poverty;
black riband or SO, faded black hand
kerchief, and one or two more such humble
attempts to express by outward signs that
grief which passes show. When looked
round upon the stored monuments, the state
ly Indictments; the marble pomp, with
which grandeur mourned magnlfcently over
departured pride; and turning to this poor
widow bowed down by age and sorrow at
the altar Of her God, and Offering up the
prayers and praises of pious, though a
broken heart, felt that this living mOnu-
ment of real grief was worth them all.
l related her story to some of the wealthy.
members of the congregation, and they
were moved by it. They exerted them
selves to render her situation more COM
fotable, and to Tighten her Affections. 1t
was, however, but smoothing few steps to
the grave In the course of Sunday or
two after, she was missed from her usual
seat at church, and before | left the neigh
horhood l heard with feeling of satisfac-
ton, that she had quietly breathed her last,
and gone to rejoin those she loved in that
world where sorrow is never known and
friends are never parted.