The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1886-02-03
Mothers Room.

New Orleans Times Democrat
The dear old room with its windows open
to the west.
There we children would stand tiptoe, and
watch the cloud-ships sailing over phantom
seas to far-off fairy land, whittier we, too,
would some day voyage.
And the sheen OF that wonderful sea of
purple and gold cast a rosy CLEAN upon the
white walls. played at hide and seek amid
the lights and shadows thrown by the ar
fist, around Shakespeare and his friends,
laughed at the solemn clock on the mantel-
piece, and rested like an aureol upon the
mothers brown hair.
II was a homely room. Tor odds and ends of
former times had wonderful knack of col
lecting there.
Lads and lassies were never banishcd to the
nursery in those days, the carpet was
always faded, OftentimeS patched, that the
children might rOmp over il rs they pleased.
The floor was strewn with armless rag
dolls, WORKOUT balls blow-guns, pits of
Irvine. blue-back speliing-bookS, and the
other worldly possessions OF old-fashioned
children.
The chairsl Well, no such chairs can be
found now in upholsterer'S shops There
was the capacious armchair, with its worn
green lining, which we dubbed sleepy Hol-
low and for which there was always
scrabble in Fathers ab sence. Mothers ia
vOIite seat was Il low rOclHng-chair by the
south window overlooking the beds OF yio-
lets and heartsease. Split-bOttOmed chairs,
with and without rockers, invited the weary
to seek rest. y homemade. chintZ covered
lounge sat in the corner, while quaint little
steos, gay with patchwork covers, tried TO
hide themselves in every nook. That room
was the scene of all the sad and bitter Incl
| dents OF our home-life.
There baby Carry closed her blue eyes Ia
open them no more upon mothers face.
They arrayed her in white, folded her fragile
| fingers upon the Last spring blossoms, aud in
! the night time We caught the r'I>tling OF the
angels wings who had come To bear her
| away To the bosom of the dear Christ
1t was there that Mary brought her lover,
| one summers day. when she found that his
| heart was her home. The tears gathered in
mothers eyes and dropped upon their clasped
hands, but she gave them her blessing and
the daughter went of to a distant land.
Little children play around ner knee now,
| but She often writes with homesick yearn-
| ing for mothers room.
The autumn sunlight streamed in with a
| golden glow, the evening We heard that
| Charley orr soldier boy. was killed. Com
rades wrote that he died like brave man,
| aud his praise was on every tongue. but
/ alas. what comfort can fame bring in the
! first sharp hours of bereavement?
bring nv boy in here, said mother.
| faint and fearless and the pail bearers passed
! by the grand parlor and set their burden
! down. where she had wePt on his neck at
| parting.
The home once gay with childish voices is
| now peoped with ghosts. Their garments
rustic IN dimly lighted halls, their footsteps
| echo on untrodden stairways, their voices
| nurmer in deserted chambers and whey the
evening freight fickers on the walls They
come troopiig into mothers room, all, who
| are gone, the dead and the living.
The dear old folks see these ghosts for
| often when come in at the twilight hour
mother will call me Charley, or father will
( say be thought it was Mary's step upon the
| threshold.
They. TOO, will soon be gone.
In the iair mansion to which they hasten
will there be one room homelike and lear,
where the erring children will gather and
find comfort as they did of yore in mothers
room?