The new North-west. [volume] (Deer Lodge, Mont.) 1869-1897, 1881-09-16
The Mother OF the Stricken President.

President and his mother as something
peculiarly beautiful and touching. TIT
General was but one week installed in Thu
Executive Mansion when his venerable
mother, who had been present TO welcome
him within it's threshold, was taken hersel
very i'll. The excitement and ceremony nj
tending even the first few days there was toe
much fo- her feeble strength, and her pros
traed condition few hours after she com
planned at all of feeling i'll, alarmed the
President greatly, and was the first worry
that mcnaced the then enVed occupant Of
the White House. Medical aid was hastily
summoned, and but little hope expressed
that Grandmother Garfield would recover
she seemed so utterly broken down. When
the President came up to her bedside with
"Well, mother, how do you feel?" she an
swered, james, fear | won't be long with
you!"
"Oh, no, MOTHER" he quickly said; II is
not so bad as that. Cheer up! The new
President cannot part with his mother al
ready"
Very much TO her own surprise she rallied
quickly, and in few days she was talking
about getting out Of the atmosphere of the
French cooking al the White House and
home to her daughter in Mentor. She used
to say that the fancy dishes would not help
her any, and if she could only get home, why,
they would give her something good To eat
and she would soon get well again. Home
made bread, made by an old near and dear
neighbor, was what she insisted built her up
any way, before she could get away from
Washington TO Ohio.
After fifty years Of the most sanctified
widowhood and sublime devotion to her
family, all of whom were left helpless
orphans on her struggling hands, she had the
inellable happiness of seeing the noble les
sons of industry, morality and religion
which she had taught them, crowned with
more than success, and beheld with pride
and JOY the son who had so long and ardent
ly loved her, and who was, in turn, the apple
of her eye, raised TO the highest dignity in
the gift of a Nation, and beloved and hon
ored universally. 1t was her compensation
for all the tears and prayers and suiierings
that had characterized her early narrow cir
cumstances, whan she was struggling from
morning till night to make his future credit
able, alike TO his country, his kindred and
himself. In his marked career, both as
statesman and a soldier. and in his final ele-
walton TO the proudest honor that can fall to
the lot of an American citizen, she recog-
nized the benign and helping hand of
heaven.
This noble American matron has lived to
some purpose, and benefited the world by
the lessons of virtue, morality and the hope
Of heaven which she early taught her
children. She has never attempted to ar
raigned the DEGREES of Providence, but has
bowed submission TO the will of heaven;
believing that all things work together for
good" Consequently in this the hour of
her dire distress, she will look beyond the
precincts of this world for compensation
touching any case that may be heartrending
and applicable to her here.
This aged mother Is stopping with her
niece at Hiram. She receives frequent mes
w
the time at the front door of the house anx-
iously waiting for the messenger who brings
her the dispatches. She is much agtated by
fears of the worst, yet clings tenaciously to
hope. The incident has called forth the fol-
lowing poem from David Graham Adee, of
Washington:
Mother, mother, in the doorway,
Waiting, waiting for word,
Watching, watching for message,
fearful, trusting in the Lord,
Would our wealth Of love could nerve you,
Would a peoples prayers could serve you,
And good cheer afford.
Mother, mother, In the doorway,
Once you nursed a baby boy,
Taught his little feet TO toddle,
Taught his helpless hands TO toy
With his playthings, prattling, smiling,
Your young motherhood beguiling
With his infant joy
Mother, mother, in the doorway,
You who showed him virtues path,
Guided him past childhoods perils,
Through the ways removed from wrath,
Well that son repays your guarding,
Love with richest love rewartling,
In manhood's aftermath.
Mother, mother. In the doorway,
Watching In the noontide glow,
On your white locks seem To finger
Kisses set there long ago,
Aud with later kisses blending,
As the Nations ruler, bending,
Greets the mothers brow.
Mother, mother, in the doorway,
Stricken with mothers grief,
You are looking where the lonely
We are told--shall find relief;
Looking far beyond the valley,
Toward the field where soldiers rally
From the battle brief.
Mother, mother, In the doorway,
Courage in this hour of woe,
For the Nations soul IL with him,
Though the waters ebb or flow;
With our hstry his IL written,
And our hearts with yours are smitten,
And our heads are low.
Mother, mother, in the doorway,
Great his work and bravely done,
On the country's roll of honor
"roud the place he nobly won;
We, his name who dearly cherish,
Would not let the soldier perish
Could man save your son.
~