The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1855-06-14
For the National Era
A SHORT STORY WITH A MORAL.
Nc GrarUille, May, 1855.
BY ELLEN c. HOBBS.

BY ELLEN C. HOBBS.
"Honor thy father and thy mother" is the
first commandment with promise-promise rs
beautiful in its exempifcation as glorious in
its conception. A mothers lips first breathed
into our ears those words of Holy Writ, and ex
planned their general import; and from the
time when the story of gray-haired Elijah and
his youthful Knockers first excited my young
Imagination, up to mature womanhood, the re-
spect then inspired for the white hairs of age
has grown with my growth, and strengthened
with my strength. We sigh as we think of the
days when the young were wont to bow before
the hoary head, and, by gentle uncalled-for
assiduites, strew roses in the old mans totter-
ing path.
But those kindly customs of our Puritan an
cestors have passed away. The world grows
selfish, as it grows old; and age-dimmed eyes
must turn homeward for stays to their trem-
bling hands and tottering limbs. Here should
they find the fulfment of the first command
ment with promise.
No true, womanly soul ever withdrew her
gentle hand from her poor old father or moth
er no manly heart ever forgot the home loves
of his hayward childhood, or ceased to hear the
echoes of fond mothers prayers Often the
cares of this world, and the deceitfulness of
richca, may choke up the Unborn affections Of
narrow souls; but few and far between is the
fOndly loved child, who can be so untrue to
himself or his Maker, as wholly to forget the
mother who bore him.
Yet even with the holest dictates of our rea.
sons and souls, rs with the wider application of
the commandment has Fashion insinuated her
poisonous influence; and the son, perchance
who left his fond parents humble home reluc
family and tearfully, to make his way in the
world, forgets, when fortune favors, to welcome
his rustic mother to his own luxury, with the
same cordial embrace with which he left her in
his childhood home. Her dim old eyes, per-
chance, do not catch readily the meaningless
courtesies of life; nevertheless, they look none
the less lovingly upon her child than when they
watched over his helpless infancy. Her wither
ed hands may be large and bony, and never
have known Jewell but none the less gently
did they smooth the weary pillow, or battle the
heated brow, in the dependent days of boyhood.
All! she's the same fond mother still her age
and work bent form, clad in rustic garb con-
ceals heart full of never-dying love, and ready
for new sacrifice.
And, thanks to the Great Being who gave us
the commandment with promise, now and then
there stands up noble man, true to his Unborn
nature, who, throwing off the trammels of
Fashion, however wide the gulf which separates
him, in the worlds eye from the humble pow
erty of his boyhood-who is not ashamed to
love- before his fellows, the humble mother who
gave him birth.
4" Ny n,other-permit me to present her to
you," said an elegantly dressed, nobe-looking
young man, to friend, for whom he had cross
ed crowded drawing room, with his aged
parent leaning on his arm. There was dead
silence for full FIVE minutes. The beau
ty of the picture pervaded every soul, and melt
ed away the frostwork from world worn hearts.
| Twas the old foreground of fashionable sum-
mer resort. whittier hosts had come, with all
their selfis passions to seek in vain for health
and pleasure. But here was a variations bit
of truth to nature-in the motley mingling of
colors.
From little brown farm house, pent in by
forests way up i'll the Granite State, that young
man had gone forth, with brave heart and stall
wart arm strong, like his native hills, he had
already made q name for himself. Polished
circles opened for him, and gentle lips babe
him welcome. Yet none the less carefully did
his manly arm support his homely, lettering
old mother; none the less softly and tenderly
did he call her, queer though she looked, "my
mother" amongst the proud beauties who had
striven for his favor. Her dress was antigua
ted, for the good gifts of her son had been sad
" mutilated by rustic hands; yet only one
heartless girl Uttered, despite the broad-frilled
cap and wellkept shawl. Her voice was rough,
and often her expressions coarse and inelegant.
Used to the social mug at home, she asked for
her neighbours goblet at table, and was guilty
of many like vulgarities. She was not an in
teresting woman, save in her vigorous age, and
her beautiful love for her son.
Yet for a week, the son watched over that
mother, and gained for her kindness and defer
ence, in the very face of fashion, walked with
her. drove with her, helped her, like an infant,
mn a difficult mountain side of twenty miles,
humored her every caprice, and each day found
some new friend, whose heart he might thrill
by those gentle words, my mother"
To him she was the gentle mother, who rock
ed him to sleep in childhood; and, true to the
great commandment she had taught him, he
was making the path smooth for her dependent
years.
One there was, in. the gay throng, whose eyes
flashed haughtily, as they rested on the homeiy,
toilworn woman; but she was noble soul,
and truth and right gained an instant victory
over lifelong prejudices. Quietly and elegant
ly she crossed the room, laid her snowy little
hand, with such gentle, thrilling touch, on the
arm OF her lover, and whispered word in his
ear.
Will she ever forget the look of lovetriumph
in his eyes, or the melting gentleness of bis
tones, as he presented his beautiful, high-bred
betrothed to his gray-haired, doting mother
Twas holy sight--that of polished, glowing
beauty, grasping the hand of wrinkled, homely
agel
When summer and summer guests had gone
many @ one remembered and watched that