The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1877-05-11


est-he may will away the accumula-
tions of lifetime to his sons or rsons-in-
law, and the mother-heart and purse are
alike left unto her desolate, while her
hard-earned home becomes anOther's.
Her step is no longer elastic; her
strength and vigor of youth are gone;
her children are no longer hers, but
somebody's else, and she is left to the
alternative of life of dependence and
unwelcOme impecuniosity as a cumber-
some mother-in-law whom "nobody
wants around" or to become the second
wife of some elderly man with Obstrep-
erous children, who takes her into a
family whittier she would not have
thought of going had she not been
robbed by the laws of men of the right
full earnings of her long life of suffering
and labor.
Mrs. Rutherford had borne the odium
of being a mother-in-law for years, and
had almost become accustomed to it,
just as people will get accustomed to
living with the heart broken; but until
her husbands death she had not known
what it was to be dependent in any way
upon her married children. Where to
go to better her condition she knew not.
Her children were all married, and in
the home of every one of them she
would be mother-in-law.
But, as we have said, her old home
was uncomfortable.
Now, it is strange, but true, that no
matter what your trouble may be, there
is always some palliating circumstance,
or unexpected ray of hope, that beams
in upon you when your hours are dark
est, to light your pathway through the
densest places in your way of gloom.
1t was a scorching summer day. The
fervent sun beamed down upon the fer
vid earth, and harvest time, in all its
oppressive, heated glory, hurried the
farming force of the old Rutherford
homestead and gathered in the neigh
bors to assist in the many fields.
Mrs. Rutherford junior was an invalid
with a new baby that was, in time, to
grow up and make despised and un-
welcome mother-in-law herself; but
mercifully for her, the young mother
did not consider that. The kitchen la
Dor of the farm depended wholly upon
Mrs. Rutherford senior, who, now that
the home was in no sense hers, not even
so much as belonging to her by the fic-
ton of possession as a wife, had as little
heart as strength for her labors. Her
step was languid and her health poor
There was work enough about the house
for three strong women, yet the thought
of help for her entered not into the cal
culations of her son.
But letter from Edna settled the
question.
"Dear mother, I am free" she wrote.
81 have home large enough for you,
and 1 am rid of John. Come over to
Idaho Flat. You can get in with teams
almost any day from Omaha, or what
is better, you can come by stage. II
you have no money, let me know, and
will forward the necessary amount"
"How should I have money, when
I've never been allowed to control 9
cent of my own earnings >" querieC
Mrs. Rutherford, pausing to think tn,
situation over calmly.
"You will not be a mother-in-lav
here, dear mother, for John is gone, ant
only and the children and Sue Ran
dolph are together" wrote Edna. "
pine for you; long for you! DO come
and we will make you happy, for yol
shall have daughters love-"
The words of Edna's letter settle,
themselves like a song of gladness il
the weary mothers heart. But she ha
no time now to fold her hands an,
) think. 1t would soon be dinner time
and the household must be fed.
The children were cross and ungov
ernable. The baby was fretful and sicE
: The house, where for so many yeaI
] comparative quiet had reigned, was in
E continuous uproar, and grandma" wa
s in constant requisition to settle childis
e quarrels, as best she could without al
D thority, to give bread and butter her,
j mend a whip there, tie up a wounde
e finger in another direction, or feed th
: fretful baby on catnip tea.
r 81 have a letter from Edna invitin
: me to join her in Idaho Flat, and II
s going next week." Mrs. Rutherford sal
d to her son, the lawful possessor of h,
r hard-earned domain, as he came saul
d tering into the long dining-room to 81
It if dinner was ready.
D "You must be crazy v' was the quiC
g reply.
s. 'If it will console you any to thin
e Pve lost my senses, you are welcome
@ the delusion, my son. But I am r
e solved to go, and want money enoug
r to meet the expenses of the iourney.n
1t "Do you think Pm made of money
asked tile injured son. "You couldr
s. get there short O. three hundred dollar
le economical as you are, and 1 don't pr
J. pose to take that much cash out of n
is business for anybody's whims."
J. "My son." replied the mother, sha
/ ing her head and speaking falteringl
Is while tear stole down her furrow
a cheek, "do you think am pension