News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1886-03-04
aHal-a-s-s---ss-.l-..-llall
Worn Out,

No, she was not strong; she had
never been very strong. Farmer Grey
knew it when he married her. Eight
children called her mother. She made
all their clothes and did her own house
| work, and yet mother was not strong"
Farmer Grey said it often. and always
regretfully. Perhaps he was unselfsh
to wish that she were stronger for her
own sake, but I fear not. He was a
very robust, active man, and exceeding
| ly anxious to ''get along in the world.
Therefore, fear that his regret for
mothers feebleness was simply regret
that she could not do more to aid him
in his "getting along" schemes.
She herself regretted that she was not
stronger.
''Father works so hard" she would
| say; 81 feel that am not as much help
to him as I might be if l were a real
strong woman"
What more would she have done2
What more could she have done2
And, most of all, what more should she
have done2
She kept the house in order. She did
loving, God fearing mothers duty by
her children. She was up early and to
bed late. She was busy every hour of
the day. She MIXED and made butter,
worked in her garden, cooked for
''hands," raised and sold chickens, but
never had dollar of her own
She could, and did, "when father was
rushed" go out into the fields and drop
corn for half day, and then come into
her hot, stuffy little kitchen and get
nd
''mother was not strong.n
She often wondered if she would ever
be strong. She would sit down on the
kitchen doorstep some nights long after
all the others were in bed dreading the
coming of the morrow, and hoping 1t
wouldn't. be so very hot. She was
afraid she might "give out" She
would lean her aching head against the
implanted door frame, cross her tired
hands listlessly in her lap, close her
eyes, and wonder" about many things
Some of her neighbors, with families
only half as large as her own, kept a
strong hired girl in the kitchen the year
around.
She often wondered vaguely how it
would seem to have girl In her kit
chen; she wondered how it would seem
for her to be away from home over
night.
The fondest hope of her life for ten
years had been that she might visit her
mother, who lived 200 miles away. She
said she wouldn't be afraid to go ''such
a long ways" alone, and "father" had
often said she should go if such and
such a thing ''turned out we'll"
These things often ''turncd out WE'LL"
but mother never made that visit-no,
never.
"One thing and another" she said,
Except her at home;" and one day mes
sage came bringing the news of her
mothers death. She would have liked
to go even then to see once more that
beloved face, even though it was cold in
death.
But father said that, "seeing as she
couldn't do any good, there was no use
wearing herself out making the trip"
so she stayed at home, grateful to father
for his thoughtfulness in not wanting
her to "wear herself out"
But she was so utterly worn out one
day, so worn out in body and mind and
soul, that when she clasped her ii ed
hands over her breast in sleep they were
never unclasped again in this world.
There was no response of eyes, I'm
coming" when father called her In the
gray dawn of a November morning.
One Father who had truly loved her,
and who had helped her bear her heavy
burdens through all these twenty years,
had called her in the night, and | think
she was glad to say: eyes, Father, I'm
coming "-DetT0it Free Press.