The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1875-08-29

tn9tcouIQ mako her endure b0f nara LIE Win
the sanity patience saw every day, and which.
without any words, Taught me the way to bear
my one cross. WHAT was IL 10 her numberIess
ones after all And she was poor and uneda-
GATED. my dear mother, but I am sure NO sub
liner sentiments ever passed the lfpa Of the
most learned, than have often heard from
hers, brought there by the lofty power Of her
continual union with God for that elevstes
and reanes the soul, I am sure, beyond any
words OF mine to ssy. Gazing continually on
the divine image, It grows more and moro like
IL, which 10 infinitely noble and beautiful.
Bot. apart from this, some awful shadow
seemed TO rest upon my motheKs life, some
shsdow no one could see, but which TO herself
was o constant presence. Even her sleep seem
ed haunted by 1t, for while she slept, she
rnoaned always and she would often come
when she thought slept, and passing her hand
over my forehead. say, with inexpressible
longing in ber voice., "My honey, do make up
TO her for It'll" And then she would kneel and
pray.
can still often feel that light and tender
touch on,my forehead, and hear that longing
voice, and the memory of them 10 dearer to me
than all that my life has brought to me, since
the hand and the voice can come no more. In
deed, would give all back to be again in the
desolate room, and know she was coming home
to it once more. But then she would not be st
rest as she 10 now.
have written this principally to show you
what manner of mother she wss, who watched
over my helpless and darkened life at this
period. And l wish to add to it, that no sun
shine ever came to me Afterwards half so fair
Is that which went ont with her life.
Eugene was very poor too. If he had not
been, do not suppose we would ever have
como to know him. 1t was through q simple
act OF kindness on his part that We did so at
all. My mother. carrying her heavy basket
one evening, stumbled, and would have fallen,
bad not . gentleman passing put out his hand
to break the fall. Then he took the basket
from her, laying it down. As she strove to
Lift it again, it was found strain on her wrist
rendered it powerless. So he said, az will
carry it home for you." And my mother, who
had been accustomed to serve ladies and gen.
tlemen, said he addressed her with as much
politeness az if she were in q drawing room,
the finest lady there. She thanked him, and
he carried it home for her. That gentleman
was Eugene Woodruff, whom now call my
friend Eugene.
When they came up stairs that day, he look
ed around the room at the bare discolored
floor, at the worn furniture, at the broken,
stained walls, finally at me, lying motionIess
on my poor bed with its faded coverlet. do
not know why, butt went to my heart, that he
then turned away, putting up his hand before
his eyes. 1t was moro to me than if he had
said all the kind and compassionate words in
thelanguage. In q moment after, he was bust
ly binding up my mothers wrist, and pouring
cold water over it. When the pain was re-
lieved, she said, with Q gentle way she had,
You have been very kind, sir, and thank
you. Gertrude" and she turned her dear, pale
face to me, "help me to thank him, my honey.s
thank you, sir, With all my heart" said
/, from my little prisoned spot "my mother is
all have"
He came over near me, and looked. His face
was the handsomest it bad ever been my lot
to see, though, to be sure, had not seen
many. He ives very young, and had soft hazel
eyes, full Of light, and high white forehead,
and beautiful, curling, brown hair. remem-
Der, as saw his look of wondering pity, 1
wished he was my brother. He said gently,
Have you been sick longT
"Always," / replied 81 can never get up."
F" So young Ny God how dare p There
he stopped. Then, Is If he could bear to look
no longer, he turned away, aud walked to the
window.
She was born . cripple, sir" said my
mother yet che is the one blessing of my
life."
BE turned to her in Amazement, very plain
to zee.
Z" Yesp she clasped her hands, "I have to
Ivefor her as she is. II she could help her.
self one bit, she would not be so entirely the
life of my life."
"And as it isi" said be, looking on her
reverently, 1 thought.
cas- 1t is, sir, hard life is made easy to
bear, because, thank God! bear it for her, not
myself"
What lesSonp he said, as if to himself
I" what sight"
Then he came back to me.
"And you cannot move ~ he aaked in a hale