Muscatine weekly journal. [volume] (Muscatine, Iowa) 185?-1890, 1857-08-08

and mind your mothers that's the advice
of real live sucker; and il you mind what
say you may be men, (and it amt every
fellow that wears goatee and breeches
that's man, by a long ways.) Foller out
her counsels and never do a thing that'll
make you ashamed to meet her in heaven.
Why, boys, Ive never done bad thing but
| heard my mothers voice reprovin' mel
and never done good thing and made q
good move, but seemed to hear her say,
that's right aud that has been the best of ALL
Nothin' like mother, boy; nothin' like
mother-that's so.'
All this passed while waiting to wood,
! Just out of Chicago. The great man was
swelling with emotions called up from the
dark shadows of the past; his big, rough
frame heaved like great bill w upon the
ocean. Tears sprang to his deep set and
earnest eyes-they swelled up to the brm-
and swan round, asking to be let fall as
tributes 10 his mothers memory-tributes to
the love Of the past. But he choked them
down, and humming snatch Of an old bal
lad, thrust his hands down into his pockets,
walked back to the end of the car, pulled the
gigantic collar of his shaggy coat up around
his ears, buttoned it close, and leaned back
against tile window in sience.'
"A mute, inglorious Milton,' or rather
Webs ter, going about the world, struggling
with his own soul, yet bound by CHAINS o
ignorance, which precluded his doing but
moiety Of the good which lay in his power
to do.'
Chicago! shouted the brakeman, and in
an ins ant all was confusion, and our her,
was lost in the crowd. The next we saw 0
! | him, ho 1vas at rho houpora stand innki M
up band box for q sweet looking countr,
girl, who was going to learn the milliner'
trade in the city, As We pressed to our car
old man by the hand, while he grasped til
; shoulder Of the conductor of another trail
with the other, getting for the deaf, grey
haired sire, the right Information as to til
route he should take to get his darter, VIII
lived near Muscatine, Iowa.
God bless him tor his noble doed!' wa
our earnest aspiration as we whirled roun
z the corner. May his shadow never be les
or the gold in his pocket diminish, for i
his unnumbered charities and mercies drop
/, ped so unostentatiou>ly here aud there, h
is perhaps doing more good in his day an
generation, than lie who devotes his III u
: sands to build charitable institutions, to civ
honor to his own name.
On, how much the world needs grea
I, hearts that are able to comprehend littl
! things-and yet how often it happens tina
the learned, the rich and wise, out grow tn
y everyday wants of humanity, and teelin
: with them elves the power to move mighlil
,, pass by the humble duties that .woul
: !. make Thousand hearts leap for joy-an
i push on, looking for some great wrong t
right, some great sorrow to be soothe'
some giant work to be accomplished; an
:, failing to find the great work, live and die
= incarcerated in their own seltishnesS, and d
i nothing at all!
i, This rough mans nature seemed the ma
ture Of the little child. His quick eye sa,
at glance; his great heart warmed, and hi
great hand expedited his little work f char
ity- so small that one would have expecte
, to see them slip between his giant finger un
accomplished yet they were done. Tin
angel over the right shoulder, will have
longer column to set down to his accoun
Of good deeds well done, than to all the res
OF the passengers of the crowded Cur, Oh
that tedious, stormy night in January, 1857
Mrs. Frances D. Gage.