Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1872-08-16

ther;" and we wondered if that day could
ever come when they would say of MS,
"Sho has outlived her usefulness she Is
no comfort to herself and II burden TO every
body else !" and We hoped that before such
n day would dawn we might be taken to
our rcsi. God forbid that VIC should out
live the love Of our children Rather let us
die while our hearts are part of their own,
that our graves may be watered with their
tears and our love linked with their hopes
of heaven.
When the bell tolled for the mothers bu-
rial we went to the sanctuary TO pay our
only token of respect to the aged sti anger {;
for we felt that we could give her memory
tear, even though her own children had
none to shed.
"She was a good mother in her day, and
toiled hard to bring us all up-she was no
comfort TO herself and burden 10 every
body elsei These cruel, heartless words
ruug in our ears as we saw the coffin borne
up the aisle. The bell tolled long and loud,
until its iron tongue had chroncled the
the years of the toil-worn mother. One
o-three-four--fve. How clearly and
almost merrly each stroke told of her once
peaceful slumber in her mothers bosom,
and of her seat at nightfall on her weary
fathers knees. -eight-nine-
ten rang out the tale of her sports upon the
greensward, in the meadow and beside the
brook. Eleven-twelv1-th irteen-four-
teen spoke more gravely of school-days
and little household joys and cares. Six
teen-seventeen-eigh teen-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 awakened in her bosom. And then
stroke after stroke told of her early woman
hood-of the loves, and cares, and hopes,
aud fears, and tolls through which she had
passed during these long years, till fifty
rang out harsh and loud. From that to
sixty each stroke told of the warm-hearied
mother ard grandmother, living over again
her own joys and sorrows in those of her
children and children's children.
Every family of all the group wanted
grandmother then, aud the only strife was
who should secure the prize; but, bark,
the bell tolls on neutrality-suspicious.
two-three-four. She begins TO grow fee
BILE, requires some care, is not always pa
tient or satisfied she goes from one child's
house TO another, so that no one place seems
like home. She murmurs in plaintive
tones, and, after all her toll and WEAKNESS,
it Is hard she cannot be allowed a home TO
die in; that she must be sent rather than
invited from house to house. Eighty
cighty-one --two-three-four All, she is
now Il second child-now "she has outlved
her usefulness, she has now ceased IT, he
comfort to herself or anybody" that is,
she has ceased TO be profitable TO her earth
craving and money grasping children.
Now sounds out, revcrberating through
oSr lovely forest, and cchong back from
our chill of the dead,' cighty-nine! There
she lies now in the coffin. cold aud still
she makes no trouble now, demands no
love. no soft words, no tender little offices.
A look of patient endurance, we fancied
also an expression of grief for unrequted
love, sat on her marble features. Her child
rem were there clad in weeds of woe, and
in irony we remembered the strong mans
words, 'She was good mother in her day."
When the bell ceased tolling the strange
minister arose in the pulpit. His form was
very erect, and his voice strong, but his
hair was silvery white. He read several
passages of Scripture expressive of Gods
compassion to feeble man, and especially
of his tenderness when gray hairs are on
him and his strength iaileth. He then made
some touching remarks on human frailty,
and of dependence on God, urging all pre-
sent to make their peace with their Master
while in health, that they might claim his
promises when heart and flesh failed them.
"Then," he said, 1.-THE eternal God shall be
thy refuge, and beneath thee shall be the
everlasting arms" Leaning over the desk,
and gazing intently on the cofiined form
before him, he then said reverently, "From
a little child have honored the aged; but
never till gray hairs covered my own head,
did know truly how much love and SYM
patty this class has a right to demand of
their fellow creatures. Now | feel it. Our
mother" he added most tenderly, "who
now lies in death before us, was Il 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 alar sixty-nine years ago, a hap
by bride-that here she has passed most CT
her life, toiling as only mothers ever have
strength to toll, until she had reareda large
family of sons and daughters-that she left
her home here, clad in the weeds of widow
hood, to dwell among her children and
that till health and strength left her. God
forbid that conscience should accuse any of
you of ingratitude or murmuring on ac-
count of the care she has been to you of
late. When you go back to your homes,
be careful of your 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. I entreat you as friend, as one
who has himself entered the evening of
life, that you may never say in the presence
of your families nor of heaven: our mo-
ther had outlived her usefulness-she was
burden to u.s. Never, never; a mother
cannot live so long as that No; when she
can no longer labor for her children, nor
yet care for herself, she can fall like pre-
cious weight on their bosoms, and call forth
by her helplessness all the noble, generous
feelings of their natures.
"Adieu, then, poor toil-worn mother /;
there are no more days of pain for thee.
Undying vigor and everlasting usefulness
are part of the inheritance of the redeem
ed"