The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1874-04-10
Mothers, Cultivate Your Minds,

What shall say of the mothOr whose
weary years have but ministered to the
necessities of others aud neglected her
own souls needs? Alas, the tragedy of
such lifei Alas! that it is too often a
real tragedy The past cannot be re-
stored, but the future is ours. The man
who turns from the wife or mother who
has thus sacrificed herself at the altar, is
accursed, but the sacrifice ought never to
be made. The very precious ointment
was not taken TO anoint the feet of the
Lord, but to rub up the pots and kettles.
Its sacredness was in its uselessness. Its
use was sacrilege.
Children cannot prevent it. The fire
is ashes on the altar before they know
its cost. But a man is worse than brutal
to demand or to accept such q sacrifice
from his wife. A woman is wholly,
cruelty wrong in making it.
Petroleum V. Nasby, in his poem OF
"Hannah Jane" gives us such life
history. Hannah Jane yields youth,
beauty, culture, all to make the fortune
of her husband. She remains to the end
illiterate, drudge, a slave, a paek-horse,
and her husband rather takes credit to
himself for not SHOWING her out alone"
and never gets further than "if either
I'm delinquent If either! Such a
l ilal Is uEtu III Sill uOL 10 see LilAL he -
worse than a wife-murderer. He has
slain soul. What he promised to love
honor, and cherish, he has degraded,
despOiled, destroyed. 'There's another
world beyond this" poetises the mus
ing husband, but he need not concern
himself with that at present. There is
| this world. One is enough at q time
| for such culprits as he. The man who
builds his own fame and fortune on the
souls of his wife or his children does
not wait for the next world to condemn
him; he is condemned already. He
is that execrated and ever execrable
monster who plumbers the one he has
sworn to protect, that he may enrich
himself.
But women ought to see for them
selves that it is waste of the ointment.
Sometimes, perhaps, itcannot be helped.
Fate closes around the child and fixes
her in one groove till the grave releases
her. Perhaps. / can hardly think that
in this country any fate is so strong as
to keep the soul fast if the will be not
first traitor. But at least let women
not feel that any such sacrifice is their
duty. They injure the very ones whom
they wish to benefit. The noblest son
in = s0r'd cannot feel that delight in a
ruue aud ignorant mother that he wOGid
iEtl III all iuNClttSCllt ulOAlltIs &c VII
be unspeaka6ly grateful, tender, iaithfui
He will love her and cherish her to her
life's end, but he will miss-it is impossi-
BILE he should not miss-all that she has
lost, all that she has failed to gain-that
which makes her his equal and cOmrade
Nasby's Abel was villain, but if he had
been an angel, he could not have enjoyed
Hannah Jane, degraded, as he would
have enjoyed her, exalted. villainy
was not in his recognizing that she was
his wife, and in feeling ashamed of her,
but in permitting her to become his in
ferior, of whom it was possible to be
ashamed. A refined taste cannot be
gratiiied with rude manners, though
gratitude and duty join hands. 1t is not
the effect of city association. 1t is the
natural repugnance of delicacy to coarse
ness, even though it be only coarseness
of manifestation. If the whole world
lived in scattered houses, all the same
the trained ear would be panied by
rough words, the trained eye by un-
graceful motion, the trained intellect by
slow perception. o, mother, is it for
your sons sake you are grinding in the
prison-house of drudgery? For their
sake, if possible, ascend out of it. For
their sake, if for nothing else, cultivate
your mind. Do not bestow upon them
the pitiable kindness of giving to their
aspiring young manhood q wOrn-Out
drudge for mother. This awful abne-
CATION may be the stern fiat of fate, may
seem the only resource of love; but
whether it be fate or choice, at the last
it biteth like serpent, and stingeth like
an adder.-GdH Hamilton IN WOOFs 8
Household Magazine.