Cincinnati daily press. [volume] (Cincinnati [Ohio]) 1860-1862, 1861-10-04
A Few Words TO Mothers.

OQe great JTlul duu SOuTC6 VI uepItSSiOu
to married woman, surrounded with a
family oflittle children, is the small amount
she can do It seems as month after
month rolls by, as if she accomplished
nothing. Life seems blank, filed up only
with petty cares, that wear out and cor
rode, and canker the frail tenement Of the
flesh, but leave no trace behind.
"Oh if could only live for something, l
could cheerfully bear all the burden time
brings to me! !" is the despondiug cry of
your own childhood, and then tell me if
you do not live for something. Years ago,
tired, hungry from outdoor play, who
brought you the nice, sweet bowl brimming
with milk. that tasted sweeter to you than
the rarest dish to the epicure? Who folded
you in her arms, and rocked you to sleep
as gently as the bee in its bed of roses
Who gave bright smiles and soft kisses
when your heart was quivered with pain
from the harsh, unfeelng word of some
playmate2 Whose soft step and light touch,
and whispered words of prayer, drove away
the dark images of fear that darkness, to
the child, is so often peopled with, and left
brightness in the belief of protecting, sleep
less care over all Who famed your fevered
brow, and held the pure, cooling draughts
that dripped from the gray rocks in the
woods, which you had dreamed of all night,
to your lips, and talked pleasantly of
Heaven, when your little feet seemed al
most ready to step into deaths dark river,
and you shrank trembling back from the
hurrying waters? Who gave you the
pleasant memories of childhood, that have
stolen to your heart as gently as the dew
to the flowers, through the long, long years
and brought life and joy to the darkest hour
of your life?
Name your price for these memories, and
then can tell you what you are accom-
plishing What if God had said to your
youngest, that pet one, with soft silken ring
lets, red, rosy, dimpled fat hand, who is
catching at the buttons on your dress
"He is little thing, will not mind about
his sight?" Think of those sparkling eyes
as you have said hundred times, as sight
less orbs never again turning to his little
crib, to find him watching you from under
the soft lace; never starting from sleep as
he clasps his arms around your neck, and
raising your head from the pillow to catch
view in the clear moonlight of his loving
eyes; ; never again joying at the glimpses Of
babys mind through the minds windows
What if God had said, {" He is little
thing; will not mind about his intellect !
Just look at your baby, laughing, cooling
forever touching some chord of hope anC
Joy, and then clasp a soulless casket il
your arms. His cheek is fair and delicatel,
tinted, his hair golden as the sunbeam, bu
his poor little mouth and eyes answering
smile, no grieved look, no wondering gaze
nothing but vacant stare. Think o
watching and yearning so for a look of in
telligence, and when you catch your breatl
with Joy to think it is yours, have it and il
q smile of mere muscle, contortion of the
lips. Oh the disappointment! The death
of O loved one brings no sorrow to that!
God, who said "Let there be light and
there was light" has great and stupendous
things before him, but not sparrow falls
to the ground without his notice. and if q
bird is worthy of his care, need mother
complain that time, talents, strength must
be given for comfort and training of the
little ones, who each has soul undying as
eternity? Perhaps when time passes and
those loved children go out from their ma
ternal nest, and their hearts grow hard and
callous in the battle of life, somewhat you
now think yalueless-act may come back
TO them as sweet memory, that will per-
meate the hard crust that is closing around
them and leave it open to all kind, pure in
huences. We can not see the end from the
beginning, so let us trust him who can, and
accept our work cheerfully, if it does debar
us from entering into the achievement Of
what we are often tempted to think are the
great deeds Of life.