Mountain Democrat., 1857-08-01
The Mother,a Lsasnn.


hear you talk, one would suppose that I
were about to enter a nunnery instead of
being married. No, tell you no husband
rules me. shall be my own mistress" !"
Laura Burke was a young, happy crea-
turc, just on the eve of matrimOny, and
like thousands of others she looked only
upon the pleasures Of the future, and laid
her plans only for the greatest amount of
enjoyment that she might secure to her
self independent of all other circumstan.
ccs. Her mother, Mrs. Amantha Burke.
had not yet passed lifc's autumnal equi.
nox, for not over eight and thirty had as
yet been hers. She was a woman of
strange beauty, and though the fool of
life was yet warm and vigorous, she was
still moved by a spirit of deep melancholy
that had moulded her features to its own
cast. Upon her pale brow there were
lines ofsorrOw, in her deep blue eyes there
was a light that seemed to turn all vision
in upon the sou, and over her whole
countcnancc there were shed the unmiS-
taxable shadows of Thought and feelings
that could only spring from heart that
had become the home Of the most power
ful experience. ....--------------
"Ah, Laura" said Mrs. Burke, II fear
that You arc looking into the future with
blinded eyes. You are picturing to your
self only that which may flee from you
ere yon can grasp it, You forget that the
life you arc about entering is one of i'm
pOrtant duties.
80, mother" cried Laura, with light
ringing laugh, don't talk to me of duty.
Goodness knows, I've always had enough
of that. Oh, no; halcyon days are COM
ing. If William marries me, it must be
for what am, and not what I'm going to
be. y truce to your soberness, mother"
Laura, Laura, be serious now, and
listen to me, for / can see the rock upon
which your bark Of happiness may be
wrecked" Mrs. Burke spoke with a Sc
rious air, and the shade that passed over
her countenance showed that she felt
deeply what she said. "You must know
that your happiness for the future must
depend upon your own exertions," she
continued land Just so far as YOU use
your own endcavOrs for the peace and
happiness of your husband, will your own
be gained. Laura, you arc too wilful,
and | fear that even to yOui husband you
will bctray that unhappy trait in your
disposition"
4" But tell me, mother, would you have
me the slave of husband? Am going
to be married just for the sake of having
man to rule me-: by no means. /
know my rights better lie may be as
sured that shall maintain all the privi-
lcgcs that belong to me. But in sober
earnest, my dear mother, cannot see
what there is that should so frightcn you.
Let me tell you that William Wilmington
is not the man to look for mere drudge
in his wife"
MY child, you misunderstood III -
You misconstrue my meaning. You
know your husband becomes responsible
for your support"
b." That's his own choice, isn't it ?"
Certainly, and he does it because he
hopes he shall be happy in your society.
y good husband looks for all that is kind
and gentle in his wife. His home is his
refuge from the cares and business of life,
and there he looks for the sweet peace
and content which no other spot on earth
can afford, and if he find it not there,
where then shall he look? 0, Laura,
tremble lest you should forget all this"
"Now, mother" uttered the halE-tho't-
less girl, ''yOu really provoke me. What
is the use Of making such mounta n out
of nothing! :"
"IIush, Laura. Look for yourself up.
on what occurred last Sabbath evening
Then you betrayed temper that made
William really unhappy"
"Wel!, and didn't he provoke me to it!"
No; by no means. lie only wished
you to wear more suitable dress to the
lecture"
"And should like to know what bu-
mess it is to him what dresses wear ?"
\ & cat deal, Laura. He only re-
qucstcd that you should wear something
more around your neck and shoulders
something that would protect you against
the cold; and surely q husband has a
right to do that"
"Then let him wait till he is my hus-
band, and even then III teach him that
he must not expect to rule me"
Mrs. Burke gazed moment into the
handsome features of her daughter, and
then tear came to her eye. She knew
that Laura loved William Wilmington
with her whole soul; but she saw, too,
that that love would fail to make her
what good wife ought to be.
Mother, dear mother" exclaimed
Laura, springing to the side of her kind
parent, and throwing her arms about her
neck, what makes you weepy Forgive
Inc for what / have said, if it can affect
you thus"
&" Laura, sit down by my side, and l
will tell you something that have hith-
crtO kept from you. l will open to you
page in my-lifc-book that | meant to
have kept forever closed in my own
heart"
The fair girl sat down by her mothers
side and looked wonderingly up.
at is of your father would speak,"
| He died before can remember"
The tears gathered more thickly in the
mothers eyes, and it was some time ere
she could speak, but at length she COM
manded her feelings, and laying her hand
upon her young daughters brow, she
commcnccd:
A." Laura, listen to me now, for can
hold up mirror within which you shall
SEE what may be your own future. !
was scarcely eighteen when l gave my
hand to James Burke. He was man Of
kind feelings and q warm heart, and l
know he loved mc truly and faithfully
yet his feelings were impulsive, his sense
Of right and wrong was keen and unmis.
taxable, and in all his emotions he was
sensitive in tho extreme. He held his
honor sacred. aud to small things hC