The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1864-07-09
She has outlived her Usefulness.

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She has outlived her Usefulness"
Not long since, good-looking man, in mid
die life, came to our door asking for the minis
ter. When informed that he was out of town,
he seemed disappointed and anxious. On being
questioned as to his business, he replied -
Il have lost my mother, and as this place
used to be her home, and as my father lies there
We have come to lay her beside him.
Our heart rose in sympathy, and we said
"lou have met with great loss'
'Wel-yes, replied the strong man, with
hesitaney. "a mother is great loss in general; ,
but our mother had outliyed her usefulness.
She was in her second childhood. and her mind
had grown as weak as her body, SO that she was
no comfort to herself, and a burden TO every
body. There were seven of us sons and daugh-
tiers; and as we could not find anybody who was
willing to board her, we agreed to keep her
among US a year about
Bat l We had more than my share of her, for
she was too feeble to be moved when my time
was out, and that was more than three months
before her death, but then she was a good
mother IN her day, and toiled very hard TO
bring us all up
Without looking at the face of the heartless
man, we directed him to the house of a neigh
boring psstor, and returned TO our nursery
We gazed ON the merry little faces which smiled
or grew sad In imitation of ours, those little
ones TO whose ear no word in our language is
half so sweet as Mother" and we wondered if
that day could ever come when they would say
OF US, .She has outlived her usefulness-she Is
no comfort to herself, and burden to every
BODY else and We hoped that before such day
would dawn we might be taken to our rest. God
forbid that we should outlive the love of our
children. Rather let us die 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
When the bell tolled for the mothers burial.
we went to the sanctuary to pay our only token
OF respect Tor the aged Stranger for we felt that
we couid give her memory tear, even though
her own children had none TO shed
She was good mother in her day and
toiled hard to bring us all up-she was no com
fort 10 herself, and burden to everybody else."
These cruel, heartless words rang in our ears as
we saw the coffin borne up the isle. The bell
tolled long and loud, until its iron tongue had
tolied the years Of the toll worn mother. One
-two-three-four-hse How clearly and al
most merrily each stroke told of her once peace
ful slumoer ON her mothers bosom, and of her
seat at night-fall on her weary fathers knee
Six-seven-eight-nine- ten rang out the
tale OF her sports upon the green sward, in the
meadow and BY the brook. Eleven-twelve-
thirteen = fourteen - spoke more gravely of
school days, and little household Joys and cares
en-eighteen-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 strong love which God had ayak-
ened in her bosom. And then stroke after
stroke told of her early womanhood - of the
loves and cares. and hopes and fears, and tolls
through which she had passed during these long
years, till nifty rang out harsh and loud From
that 70 sixty each stroke told of the warm-hear-
ted mother and grandmother, living over again
her joys and sorrows in those of her chill
dren and childrep's children. Every family of
all the group wanted grandmother then and
the only strife was who should secure the prize
but, bark, the bell tollson Seyenty-seyenty-
ohe-two-three-four She begins 10 grow
Feeble, required some care, is not always per-
feetly patient or satisfied; she goes from one
child . home 10 another, SO that no one place
seems like home. She murmurs in plaintiye
tones, and after her toll and weariness tits hard
she cannot be allowed home to die in that she
must be sent rather than invited from house to
house. Eighty-eighty- INSTRUMENTATION.
All, she is a second cbild-now she has outliyed
her usefulness, she has now ceased to be profta-
pie to her earth-craying and money grasping
children.
Now sounds out, reyerberating through our
lovely forest, and echoing back from our ''hill
of the dead - eighty mine There she lies now
in the coffin, cold and still - she makes NO
trouble now, demands no love, no soft words.
no tender little Offices. look of patient en-
dnrance-we faneied also an expression of griet
Tor unrequited love-sat ON her marble features
Her children were there, clad in weeds of woe
and IN an irony, we remembered the strong
mans words, s'She was a good mother in her
day."
When the bell had ceased toling, the strange
minister rose in the pulpit. His form was very
erect, and his voice strong, but his hair was sill
very white. lie read several passages of Scrip
ture, expressive of Gods compassion TO feeble
man, and especially of his tenderness when gray
hairs are on him, and his strength faleth He
then made some touching remarks on human
fraiity, and of dependence ON God, urging all
present to make their peace with their Master
while IN health, that they might claim his prom
ises when heart and flesh fail them Then. .
he said, ''the eternal God shall be thy refuge
and beneath thee shall be the everlasting arms .
Leaning over the desk, and gazing intenty on
the uncoftined form before him, he then said
i. reyerently, from little child have honored
the aged, but never till gray hairs covered my
own head, did know truly how much love and
sympathy this class have a right to demand OF
their fellow creatures. Now know it, "0ur,
mother" he added, most tenderly, ''who now
lies IN death before US, was stranger TO me, as
are all Of these, her descendants. All | know
Of her is what her son has told me to-day--that
she was brought TO this town from afar. happy
brlde-that here she has passed most of her life,
toiling as only mothers have strength to toll
until she had reared a large family of sons and
daughters-that she left her home here. clad in
weeds of widvwhood, to dwell among her chill
dren, and that till health and strength left her.
God forbid that conscience should accuse any Of
you Of ingratitude or murmuring on account Of
the care she has been to you of late. When YOU
go back to your homes, be careful of Your own
example before your own children, for the fruit
OF Your own doing you will surely reap from
them when you yourselves totter ON the brink
OF the grave. entreat you as q friend as one
who has himself entered the evening of life, that
you may never say in the presence of your fam
lilies nor of heaven, "0ur mother has outli, ed
her usefulness-she was a burden to u.s. Never.
never; a mother cannot live so long as that
No; when she can no longer labor for her chill
dren, nor yet care for herself she can fall like
precious weight on their bosoms, and call forth
by her helplessness all the noble, generous feel
ings of their natures
Adieu, then, poor toil-worn mother, there are
no more days Of pain for thee. Undying yigor
and everlasting usefulness are part of the in
hsritance OF the redeemed Feeble as thou vert
on earth, thou wilt be no burden on the bosom
OF Infinite Love, but there shalt thou find thy
ionged-for-rest and receive glorious sympathy
from Jesus and his ransomed fold.