The Arkansaw traveler., 1884-03-08
MOTHERS ROOM.
IF. Irene Reese, in Times Democra,

F. Irene Reese, in Times Democrat
 The dear old room, with it's windows open to the west.
 There we children would st md tiptoe, and watch the cloud-ships sailing over phantom seas to a far-off fairyland, whither Se, too, would some day voyage
 And the sheen of that wonderful sea of purple and gold cast rosy gleam upon the white walls, played at hide and seek amid the lights and shadows, thrown by the artist. around Shakespeare and his friends, laughed at the solemn clock on the mantlepiece, and rested like an au- reola upon the mothers brown hair.
 It was homely room, for odds and ends of former times had a wonderful knack of collecting there.
 Lads and lassies were never banished to the nursery in those days. so the car pet was always faded oftentimes patched, tha, the children nigh, romp over i, as they pleased.
 The floor was esn with armless rag dolls, worn-out .!ls. blow-suns bits of twine, blue back spelling bcoks. and the other worldly possessions Of old-fashion- ed children
 The chairs. Well, no such chairs can be found now in upholsterers' shops There was the eapaeious armchair, with its worn green lining, which we dubbed " Sleepy Hollow" and for which there was always a scramble in fathers ab- sence. Mothers fivorite seat was low rocking-chalr by the south window. over looking the beds of violets and hearts ease. Split-bottom chairs, with and with out rockers, invited the weary 10 seek rest. A homemade, ehintz covered lounge sat m the corner, while quaint little stools, gay with patchwork covers, tried to hide themselves in every nook. Tha, room was the scene of all the sad and tender incidents of our home-llfc.
 There baby Carry closed her blue eyes to open them no more upon q mothers face. They arrayed her in white, folded her fragile fingers upon the first spring blossoms, and in the nighttime we caught the rus,ling of the angels wings who had come to bear her away 10 the bosom of the dear Christ.
 It was there that Mary brough, her lover, one summers day, when she found that his heart was her home The tears sathcied m mothers ; eyes and dropped upon their clasped hands. but she gave them her blessing and the d4u, hter went of ,o a dlsian, land.
 i'i,le children play aroand her knees now. but she often writes with home sick yeafnng fer mothers room.
 The autumn sunlight s,reamed in with a golden glow, the evening we heard that Charley, our soldier boy, was killed. Com - lac. . k-., ka I. sl | and his PraIsewas on every tongue. Bu, alas. what comfort can fame bring in the first sharp hours of bereavement
 :. Bring my boy in here" said mother, taint and fearless. and ihe pail bearers passed by he grand plrlor and set their burden down, where she had wept upon his neck a, parting.
 The home. once gay with childish voices. IS now peopled with ghosts Their garments rustic in dimly lighted halls their footsteps echo on untrodden stair ways, their voices murmEr in deserted chambers, and when the evening firelisht iiickers on the walls they come ifooping into mothers room. all. who are gone. he dead and ehe living
 The dear old folks see these ghosts ioi often when come Tn al the twiigh, hour mother will call me Charley. or A. thef will say he though: il was Mary $ step upon the threshold
 They, too, will soon be gone.
 In the fair mansion to which they hasten will there be one room homelike and dear, where the erring children will gather and find comfor, as they did of yore in mothers room: