Worcester daily spy., 1859-04-27
6Nurtestrr Qailp Spp.
From the Home journal.
MOTHER MADE IT.n

A few weeks since, while in one of the beau
tiful inland cities Of Wisconsin an incident
occurred which awakened in my mind train
OF reflections which possibly may be written
and read with advantage
l was hurrying along the street, when nv
attention was arrested by the appearance of
little boy on the side of the pavement, selling
candy He was not really beautiful, nor was
he decidedly the reverse. His age was about
nine years; his clothes were old and faded,
but well patched. His candy was spread up
on a coarse, white cotton cloth, neatly stretch
ed over what had been a japanned server. He
was surrounded by small group of boys,
evidently belonging to different grades Of soci-
ETY..
peated interlude, "Candy, sir z" fell upon my
ears, and although opposed to the excessive
use of candy, | stepped aside to patronize the
hght-haired, pale, freckled homespun little re-
preventative of trade. | purchased of him,
partly for his encouragement, but with parti-
cular reference to the friendship of the little
folks of the family with which was tempor-
ary guest.
The candy was as white as the cloth be-
meath it, being from the poisonous coloring
ingredients so extensively used in the confec-
tionary art. | tasted it, and found it delicately
favored and very nice.
"My boy" said l. ''your candy is very
good let me have little more"
l Immediately saw that my remark had
awakened in his young heart emotions which
III themselves, were quite abstract from the
candy trade. His countenance beamed with
JOY as he raised his large eyes, sparkling with
delight, and observed in reply
'lt is good, isn'titl Mother made It,"
In these few words was embodied an uncon-
scious exhibition of character. Here was a
spontaneous outburst Of filiaI affection
Now this incident in itself was triding but
the spirit OF the language carried my mind
back through life more than thirty years, and
at irregular intervals bade me pause and apply
the sentiment to some item connected with nv
own history.
Before making the application, however, l
wish to disabuse mssef Of the charge, which
such application may incur, of approprating
to myself the nobility Of character which |
have above attributed to the candy boy
Holding myself exempt from this arrogance,
would simply say, | am not ashamed of the
profession of my affection for my parents, and
hope may not outliye that profession.
When | was little boy, at school, and car
ried my dinner in satchel made of calico, my
schoolmates carried theirs in fashionable will
low baskets, and sometimes teased me because
carried mine in a poke" felt yexed, but
reconcied myself with the recollection that if
did carry calico poke, ''mother made it," In
less than twenty-five years after that time, one
of these same schoomates was happy to avail
himself Of the privilege Of sending his child
ren to my school to receive a gratuitous in
struction, proffered in view of his extreme
poverty. His children came to school without
any idnner. They had no nice willow basket,
they needed no calico ''poke."
William Foster ruled his copy book with
pencil set in fine silver case. He said he
would not carry such a great ugly club of a
pencil as mine. | compared the pencils. His
was the handsomest, but no better than mine
l had good lead pencil, hammered out of q
piece of lead ''Motier made it," and | was
satisfied with it. After we grew up to be men
William Foster came to get me to calculate in
terest on small note, at six per cent per an
mum. He carried pencil worth four cents.
When i'll my twenty-second year, left home
tn attend school at l.. There were in the
school some fast young men, the sons ofwealthy
parents There were others whose good sense
was not annihilated by pecuniary advantages.
Of the former class was one John Stokes, who
wore very fine broadcloth. My best coat was
not so fine, the cloth cost two dollars and fifty
cents yard; my mother had traded tow
check of her own manufacture for it, while |
was working to assist my father in raising his
family she paid out fifty cents for getting the
garment cut, and made it herself. John
Stokes came one day to my desk, held out his
arm, compared his coat sleeve with mine, and
inquired, ironically, where | got such
fine coat. l proudly told him, my mother
made 1t :" He teigned great surprise, and sar-
castically observed he had mistaken it for i'm
ported goods; he wished he could get such
fine clothes, and wondered if mother would
get him up a fine coat.
A short time afterward, while in a tailor
shop one morning with a fellow student, John
Stokes fine coat was brought in by lad, with
instructions to scour and press it. He was not
in the class thai day he had been seen the
previous night on Water street, rolling in the
mud, drunk as Bacchus He left the school in
disgrace. He now lies in drunkard's grave.
| boarded myself while attending school
here. walked nine miles home at the close
Of each week, and returned on Monday morn
ing with my loaf of bread under my arm. 1t
would become stale before Friday evening, but
l always relished it when | recollected that
"Mother made it,"
am now so far advanced in life that my
friends begin to call me old. But | have not
lived long enough to learn why | should not
still respect my mother and regard her affec-
ionately. She is quite advanced in years, and
has nearly lost her sight. She sits within
few feet of me, sewing up a rent in my linen
coat while | write this. She knows not what
am writing. She has been widow eight
years, and is still toiling for the welfare of her
children She has never studied grammar, nor
philosophy, nor music. These things were
seldom taught in her youth But she knows
their value and has toed hard many day to
purchase books for her children, and support
them at school, And shall now curl the lip
of scorn, or blush in company, to hear her
substitute verb Of unity for one Of plurality
or pronounce word twenty years behind the
Websteran eral Never-no, never The
old dilapidated grammar in my library might
testify against her style; but its testimony
would be infinitely more terrible against my
ingrattude. l recollect well when she rode
seven miles, one cold winters day, to sell pro-
duce and purchase that book for Inc, when l
was little boy. 1t required sacrifice, but
"MoTHER MADE IT."