The New era. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1865-1871, 1865-10-12
The WilOtC and her Son.
BY WASHINGTON IRVING.

Ce;tSeu. GEORGE SOMERS, aSeu 70
years. The poor mother had been as
sisted to kneel down at the head Of it.
Her withered hands were clasped, as if
feeble rocking of the body, and a con-
vulsive motion of the lips, that she was
gazing on the last relics of her son with
the yearnings of mothers heart.
Preparations We're made to deposit the
coffin i'll the earth. There was that bust
ling stir, which breaks so harshly on the
feelings of grief and affection; direc-
lions were given in the cold tones of
business; and there was the striking of
spades into sand and gravel; which at
the grave of those we love, is of all
sounds the most writhing. The hustle
around seemed to waken the mother
from wretched reverie. She raised her
glazed eyes, and looked about with a
faint wildness.
As the man approached with cords, to
lower the coffin into the grave, she Wrung
her hands, and broke into an agony of
grief The woman who attended her
took her by the arm, endeavored to raise
her from the earth, and to whisper some
thing like consolation.
"Nay, now; nay, now-don't take it
so sorely to heart"
But the mother could only shake her
head, and wiring her hands, as one not
to be comforted.
AS they lowered the body into the
earth, the creaking of the cords seemed
to agonize her; but when, on some acct
dental obstruction, there was .iostling
of the coffin, all the tenderness of the
mother burst forth; as if any harm
could come to him, who was far beyond
the reach of worldly suffering.
/ could see no more-my heart sWelled
into my throat-my eyes filled with
tears-I felt as if l were acting a barba-
rous part in standing by and gazing idly
on the scenes of maternal anguish. l
wandered to another part of the church
yard, where renal ned until the funeral
train had dispersed.
It was some time before l left the
place. On my way homeward, / met
with the woman who acted as comforter.
She was just returning from accompany
ing the mother to her lonely itation,
and l drew from her some particulars
connected with the affecting scene | had
witnessed.
The parents of the deceased had resid
ed in the village from childhood. They
had inhabited one of the neatest cottages,
and by various rural occupations, and
the assistance of a small garden, had
supported themselves creditably and
comfortably, and led happy and blame
less life. They had one son, who had
grown up to be the staff and pride of
their age.
| But, unfortunately, this son was tempt
ed, during year Of scarcity and agricul-
tural harGships, to enter into theservice
of one of the small craft that Piled on q
neighboring river. He had not been
long in this employ, when he was en-
trapped by a press-gang, and carried off
to sea. His parents received tidings of
his seizure, but beyond that they could
learn nothing. 1t was the loss of their
main prop. The father, who was al
ready infirm, grew heartless and melan-
choly, and sunk into his grave. The
widow, left lonely in her age and feeble
ness, could no longer support herself,
and came upon the parish.
Time passed on, till one day she heard
the cottage door, which faced the garden,
suddenly open. A stranger came out,
and seemed to be looking eagerly and
wildly around He was dressed in sea-
mems clothes, was emaciated and ghast
ly pale, and bore the air of one broken
by sickness and hardships. He saw his
his steps We're faint and faltering; he
sank on his knees before her, and sobbed
like child. The poor woman gazed
upon him with a vacant and wandering
eye.
90, my dear, dear mother! don't you
know your son? your poorboy, George"
1t was, indeed, the wreck of her once
noble lad who, shattered by wounds,
by sickness, and foreign imprisonment,
had at length dragged his wasted limbs
homeward, to repose among the scenes
of his childhood. The rest of the story
is soon told. The young man fingered
but a few weeks, when death came to his
relief
The next Sunday, after the funeral l
have described, was at the village
church; when, to my surprise, saw
the poor woman lettering down the
aisle, to her accustomed seat on the steps
of the altar. She had made an effort to
put ON something like mourning for her
son; and nothing could be more touch
ing than this struggle between pious af-
fiction and utter poverty; Il black riband
or SO, a faded black handkerchief, and
one or two more such humble attempts
to express, by outward signs, the grief
which passed show,