Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1881-11-09
Outlived Her Usefulness.

UutlINtu utT Obtiulutsss
Not long since good-looking man in
middle life came TO our door, asking for
"the minister" When informed that he
was out of town, he seemed disappointed
business, he replied, T" have lost my mother
and as this place used to be her home, and
my father lies here, we have come to lay her
beside him."
My heart rose in sympathy and said,
"You have met with great loss."
"Well, yes" replied the strong man, with
hesitancy ga mother is a great loss in gen.
eral but our mother had outlived her use
fulness; she was in her second childhood,
and her mind had grown as weak as her
body, so that she was no comfort to herself
and burden TO everybody. There were
seven of us, sons and daughters, and as we
could not find anybody who was willing to
board her, we agreed to keep her among us
a year about. But I've had more than my
share of her: for she was too feeble to be
moved when my time was out, and that was
thnee months before her death. But then
she was good mother in her day and toiled
very hard to bring US all up"
Without looking at the face Of the heart
less man. I directed him to the house of
neighboring pastor, and returned to my mis-
cry. gazed on the merry little faces which
smiled or grew sad in imitation of mine
those little ones to whose ear no word in our
language is half so sweet as smother -
and wondered If that day could ever come
when they could say of me, She has out
lived her usefulness; she is no comfort to
herself, and burden to everybody !" and
hoped that before such day would dawn /
l .--LA L. al. l. ~ r..
that we should outlive the love of our chill
dren Rather let us die while their hearts
are part of our own, that our graves may
be watered with their tears, and our love
linked with the hopes of heaven.
When the bell tolled for the mothers
burial we went 10 the sanctuary to pay our
token of respect for the aged stranger, for
we felt that we could give her memory a
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 to every
body else"
Those cruel, heartless words rang in our
ears as we saw the coffin borne up the aisle
The bell tolled long and loud, until its iron
tongue had chronicled the years of the toll
| worn mother One--two-three-fou
five. How clearly, and almost merrily, each
stroke told of her once peaceful sumber in
her mothers bosom, and of her seat at night
fall on her weary fathers knee. Six-seven
-eight-nine-ten rang out the tale Of heI
sports upon the greensward in the meadow
and by the brook. Eleven-twelve-thir
-fourteen-fifteen, spoke more gravely
of schooldays and little household joys
and cares. en-seventeen-eigh
sounded out the enraptured visions of maid
hood and the dream of early love. Nine
teen brought US the happy bride. Twent,
spoke of the young mother, whose heart wa
full to bursting with the new-sprung Low,
which God had awakened in her bosom
And then stroke after stroke told of he
early womanhood-of the loves and care
and hopes and fears and tolls through which
she passed during these long years, till fift,
rang out harsh and loud. From that Il
sixty each stroke told of the warm-hearte,
mother and grandmother living over agail
her own joys and sorrows in those of he
children and children's children. Ever,
family of all the group wanted grandmothe
then, and the only strife was who should sc
cure the prize; but hark the bell tolls on
Seventy-one-two-three She be
gins to grow feeble, requires some care,
not always perfectly patient or satisfied sh
goes from one childs house to another, s
that no one place seems like home. Sh
murmurs in plaintive tales, and after all he
toll and WEAKNESS it is hard she cannot b
allowed home to die in (; that she must b
) sent rather than invited, from house
house. Eighty-eighty-one-t three
four--ah now she is second child--no,
"she has outlived her usefulness, she ha
: ceased to be comfort to herself or any
body" that is, she has ceased TO be profit
able to her earth-craving and money-grasr
ing children.
Now sounds out, reverberating throug
our lonely forest, and echoing back from tn
"hill of the dead" eighty-nine There sh
, now lies in the coffin, cold and still; sh
makes no trouble now, demands no love, n
! soft words, no tender little offices. A loo
of patient endurance, we fancied also a
expression of grief for unrequited love, ss
ON her marble features. Her children wer
there, clad in weeds of woe, and in irony "
remembered the strong mans words, " Sh
was a good mother in her day."
When the bell ceased tolling, the strang
minister rose in the pulpit. His form wa
very erect and his voice strong, but his hal
silvery white. He read several passages {
Scripture expressive of Gods compassio
to feeble man, and especially of his tende
, ness when gray hairs are on him and hi
strength faileth. He then made some toucl
ing remarks on human frailty and on d.
pendence on God, urging all present to max
their peace with their Master while in healtl
,, that they might claim his promise whe
heart and flesh should fail them. Then
said, "The eternal God shall be thy refug
and beneath thee shall be the everlastin
arms" Leaning over the desk and gain
intently on the coffined form before him,
, then said reverently, From little child
honored the aged, but never till gray hail
covered my own head did know truly ho
much love and sympathy this class has
right to demand of their fellow-creature
Now | feel it. Our mother" he adde,
!, most tenderly, "who now lies in death b.
fore us, was stranger to me- as are all ht
descendants, All know of her is what ht
son has told me to-day-that she Wa
brought to this town from afar, sixty-nir
years ago, happy bride; that she hs
! passed most of her life toiling, as onl
! mothers ever have strength to toll, until sh
: had reared a large family Of sons and daugl
ters; that she left her home here, clad /
, weeds of widowhood, TO dwell among he
!, children, and that, till health and vigor lei
her. she lived for you, her descendant
! You, who together have shared her love an
care, know how well you have requited he
. God forbid that conscience should accus
any of you of ingratitude or murmuring o
account of the care she has been to you c
late. When you go back to your homes, b
careful of your words and your example b.
, fore your own children, for the fruit OF you
own doing you will surely reap from ther
when you yourselves totter on the brink O
the grave. l entreat you as friend, a
one who has himself entered the 'evenin
of life that you may never say in the pres
ence of your families or Of heaven, 'Ou
mother has outlived her usefulness she wa
a burden to u.s. Never, never, never;
mother cannot live so long as that Nc
when she can no longer labor for her chi
dren, nor yet care for herself, she can fal
like precious weight on their bosoms, an