The Russellville Democrat., 1882-08-10
Your Mother.

World contributes the following beautiful llnes to that journal;
 Have you ever seen her walk slow ly across the floor and sinking into a chair with a heavy drawn sigh, hang her head in sad, meditative man. ner, gazing long and intently upon the floor? Of what do you suppose she is thinking at such times? Have you ever wondered? Ahi no doubt she is recalling to her mind many of the scenes through which she has passed during the long years that have elapsed since she first crossed the soft ripping stream separating the howery land of childhood from the great responsibilities of woman hood. Perhaps she is viewing the wonderful contrast between then and now. She is thinking, too, of the many tedious hours she has spent in bringing you up in health ard re tinement; and, no doubt, of how selfish and ungrateful you are prov ing yourself in return for her anx- ious care, Ton may feel that you are fully performing your duty to- ward her, but do not forget the fact, that It would be utterly impossible for you to go beyond this--there is no love, no care, no forgiveness on earth to equal hers, and do you think that it is in your power ever to do enough for such friend? Look at her-another sigh! Will you not lay aside business and society for her sake, only for few moments? Go to her; make her to feel that she has not tolled bravely through life, only to grow old and be neglected by those whose sacred duty it is to bless her last days; but that she is greatly blessed in the possession of tender, loving children--ever ready and willing to perform the greatest or smallest act of gratitude and kind ness to her-their noblest trainer. When you pass near her and she looks up at you and smiles, do not as the writer's heart has often times been pained to see others do-pause just for moment, form a nasty ex- cuse, and hurry on; but seat your self at her side, take the dear old wrinkled hands within your own, and strew flowers of blessedness all around her in her lonely hours. Draw her mind away from the sad subject upon which it has so long been centered. Count the wrinkles in her dear old face, and for every one count dozen sighs, sorrows, cares and anXieties all for your weak sake. Think, oh 7. think of the long wearlsome road over which she has travelled, and try to make her happy, now that heaven has bestowed upon you that privilege. That dear old mother cannot be with you always, and when she is gone-yes, when those feeble hands lie cold and still upon a lifeless breast, when those loving lips have been sealed in the awful solemnity of death, when you stand and gaze upon the silent form beneath the coffin lid, 'tis then that the past will swell up in your aching heart, and you will remember many an act by which you might have ad- ded to her comfort and pleasure. 'Tis ''then that forgotten tones of love will recur to you and kind glances shine out of the past--O, so bright and clear! or so lenged after because tEev are out of reach more prized because unattainable, more bright because O. the contrast of present darkness and solitude, where there is no escape"
 Don't wait till the grave has closed above her to realize the fact of how dear she is to you; for the clods that will rattle above her frosty head, will tell you sadder tales of the dark and lonely future than ever sound did before. When the fading star of earthly life has sunk forever out of sight, when the gauzy veil of death has fallen around her dropping head, and the misty shadows have faded into darkness, costly monuments and drapings of crape will be of no ben eft to her, for now is the time to love, appreciate and care for the truest friend that earth ever possess ed for you.
 "Don't wait 'till the feeble hands are at rest,
 Ere you fill them full Of lowers'I
 Don't save them for the cold snd lifeless