Daily American organ., 1856-03-28
WHOLE NO. 432.
ssshs Has Outlived Her U.efulpe,,., ),

Not long since, good looking man, in middle
life, came TO our door askiDg for "the minister
When informed that he was out of town, he seen,
ed disappointed and anxious. On being questioned
as to his business, he replied
j II have lost my mother, and as this place used
to DC her home, and my father lies here, we have
come to lay her beside him."
Our heart rose in sympathy, and we said, !" You
have met with great lossn 81 sna 1s1t
'Well--yes," replied the strong man with hesi-
| fancy, "a mother Is great loss in general but
our mother has outlived her usefulness /: she was
in her second childhood, and her mind was grow n
as weak as her body, 40 that she was no comfort
70 herself and was burden to everybody,s Thero
were seven OF us, sons and daughters. and as we
could not find anybody who was willing to board
her, we agreed to keep her among usa year about.
But I've had more than my share of her, for she
was too feeble to be moved when my time was out.
aud that was more than three months before her
death. But then she was good mother in her
day, and toilsd very hard to bring us all up.n
Without looking It the face of the heartless man
we directed him 70 the house Of neighboring pas
| tor, and returned to our nursery We gazed on
the merry little faces which smiled or grew sad Il,
imitation Of ours-those little ones 70 whose ear
no word in our language Is hall, 30 sweet as
Mother" and we wondered If that day could ever
come when they would say of us, sShe has out
lived her usefulness-she is no comfort 10 herself
and burden to everybody else - and we hoped
that before such day would dawn, we might b..
taken TO our rest God forbid that we should out
live the love Of our children Rather let us dio
while our hearts are part of their own that our
grave may be watered with their tears, and our
love linked with their hopes of heaven
w hen the bell toled for the mothers burial We
went 70 the sanctuary to pay our only token of re-
spect for the aged stranger for we felt that wo
could give her memory a tear, even though her
own children had none to shed.
at."She was good mother In her day, and toiled
hard TO bring US all up |; she was no comfort to
herself, and burden to everybody else II These
cruel, heartless words rang in our ears as we saw
the coffin borne up the aisle. The bell tolied long
and loud, until iis iron tongue had chronicled
the years of the toil-worn mother One---twc--
three-four-fve. How clearly and almost mer,i-
ly each stoke told Of her once peaceful slunlber
in her mothers bosom, and of her seat at nightall
on her weary fathers knees. Six---eeven--cight--
nineteen rang out the tale Of her sports upon the
green sward, in the meadow, and by the brook.
Eleven - twelve - thirteen - fourteen - fifteen
spoke more gravely Of school days, and tle house
hold joys and cares. Sixteen--seyenteen---
sounded out the enraptured visions of maidenhood,
and the dream OF early love. Nineteen brought
before us the happy bride. Twenty spoke Of the
young mother, whose heart was full TO bursting
with the new-strung love which God had awaken
told of her early womanhood-of the love and
cares and hopes and fears and tolls through which
she passed during these long yoars, till fifty rarg
out harsh and loud. ti q ayftsss., s 4rs4s
From that to sixty each stroke told of the warn
hearted mother and grandmother living over again
her own joys and sorrows in those OF her children
and chldren's children. Every family Of au the
group wanted grandmother then, ard the ONLY
strife was, who should secure the prize; but hark!
| the hell t0lla IN " n
three-four. She begins to grow feeble, requires
some care is not always perfectly patient sat-
is6ed; she goes from one childs house to another,
SO that no one piece seems like home.f She mur-
murs in plaintive tones, and after ell her toll and
weariness, 1t Is hard she cannot be allowed home
TO die in that she must, be sent, rather than in
vited, from house to house Eighty cighty-on
two-three-four--ah, she is now second child;
now ''she has outiived her usefulness, she has now
ceased to bel . comfort to herself or anybody"
that is she has ceased to be profitable to her earth
craving and money-grasping children.
Now sounds out, reverberating through our
lovely forest, and echoing back from our s.hll of
the, ,dead, y eighty-nine; there she now lesin the
coffin, cold and still-sbe makes no trouble now,
demands no love, no soft words, no tender little
offices. look Of patient endurance, we fancied
also an expression Of grief for unrequited love-, sa
on her marble features. Her children were there,
clad in weeds of woe, and in an irony we remern-
bered the strong mans words, She was good
mother in her day. afl@Ffftt Es2t0hSFo
When the bell ceased toling, the strange minis
ter rose in the pulpit. His form was very erect,
and bis voice strong, but his hair was siyery white
lie read several passages Of Scripture expressive
of Gods compassion to feeble man, and especially
of his tenderness when grey hairs on him. and
his strength fileth. He then made some touching
remarks on human frailty, and Of dependence on
God, urging ell present to make their peace with
their Master While in health, that they might claim
his promises when heart and flesh should fail them.
uPhen," he said, "the eternal God shall be thy
refuge and beneath thee shall be the everlasting
arms" Leaning over the desk and gazing intentiy
on the cofined form before him, he then said reve
rently, "From little child / have honored tho
aged but never till grey hairs covered my OWL
head, did know truly bow much love and synpa-
thy this class have right TO demand of their fell
low-creatures Now / feel it.. Our mother he
added most tenderly, " who now lies in death be-
fore US, was stranger to me, as are all these, her
descendants. All know Of her is what her soa
has told me to-day---thst she was brought to this
town from affair." sixty -hne years ago, happy bride
that here she has passed most of ber life, toll
ing as only mothers ever have strength to toll un-
til she had reared large family of sons and daught
ersthat she left her home here clad in the weeds
Of widowhood to dwell among her children; and
that till health and vigor left her. she lived for you,
her descendants.
You, who together have shared her love and her
care, know how well you have requited her God
forbid that conscience should accuse any of you Of
ingratitude or niurmuring, on account Of the care
she has been TO You oflate When you go back
to your homes, be careful of your words and your
example before your own children, for the fruit OF
your own doing you win surely reap from them
when you yourself totter the brink ofthc grave.
enteat you as a friend, "a one who has bimself
entered the "evening oflife,n that you may never
say, in the presence of your families nor Of Heaven