Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1886-10-16
SELECTIONS.
NO ROOM FOR OLD MOTHER.

TO go TO JOnn."
John? There is no town called
John. Where is it 7"
"Oh I. Johns my sou. He's out
in Kansas OH a claim"
~ am going right to Kansas my
self. You intend to visit ~
"No, ma'am."
She said it with sigh so heart
burdened the stranger was touched.
"John sick ~
"No."
The evaslve tone, the look of pain
in the furrowed face, were noticed
by the stylish lady as the gray head
bowed upon the toil.marked hand.
She wanted to hear her story to
help her.
Excuse me-John in trouble ?"
"No, no-I'm in trouble. Trouble
my old heart never thought to see."
"The train does not come for some
time. Here, rest Your head upon
my cloak"
"You are kind. If my own were
so | shouldn't be in trouble to-
night"
"What is your trouble? Maybe
| can help you"
ats hard to tell it to strangers,
but my old heart is too full to keep
it back. When l was left widow
with the three children, | thought it
was more than | could bear; but it
wasn't bad as this"
The stranger waited till she re,
covered her voice to go on.
II had only the cottage and my
willing hands. / toiled early and
late all the years till John could help
me. Then we kept the girls at
school, John and me. They were
married not long ago. Married rich
as the world goes. John sold the
cottage, sent me to the city to live
with them and he went West to be-
gin for himself. He said we had
provided for the girls and they
would provide for me now"
Her voice choked with emotion.
The stranger waited in silence.
81 went to them In the city.
went to Mary's first. She lived in a
great house with servants to wait
on her; IA house many times larger
than the little cottage-but / soon
found there wasn't room enough for
me"
The tears stood in the lines on
her cheeks. The ticket agent came
out softly, stirred the fire, and went
back. After pause she continued
{" went to Martha's-went with a
pain i'll my heart | never felt before
| was willing to do anything so as
not to be a burden. But that wasn't
it. | found they we're ashamed oil
my bent old body aud my wlthered
face-ashamed of my rough, wrlnkl
ed hands-made so toiling fol
them"
The tears came thick and fast
now. The strangers hand rested
caressingly on the gray head.
"At last they told me l must live
at a boarding house, and they'd keep
me there. l couldn't say anything
back. My heart was too full of pain
| wrote to John what they were go
ing to do. He wrote right back, a
long, kind letter for me to come
right to him. | always had home
while he had a roof, be said. To
come right there and stay as long as
| lived. That his mother should
never go out to strangers. So I'm
going to John. He's got only his
rough hands and his great warm
heat-but there's room for his old
mother-God bless-him-"
The stranger brushed a tear from
her fair cheek and awaited the con
clusion.
"Soma day when am gone where
| I'll never trouble them again, Mary
and Martha will think of it all. Some
day when the hands that toiled ioI
them are folded and still; when the
eyes that watched over them through
many a weary night are closed for
eyer; when the little old body, ben
with the burdens it bore for them, i.
put away where it can never shame
them