The Bennington banner. [volume] (Bennington, Vt.) 1858-1894, 1888-04-26
GOING TO JOHN.

Going north, madameV
No, ma am
Going south, then?'
4 don't know ma'am.'
1never was on the cars. I'm waiting
for the train, to go to john
'John?'
oh, Johns my son. He's out in Kan
sas on a claim
I'm going to Kansas myself. You in
tend to vis?'
No, ma'am.'
She said it with a sigh so heartburn
dened the stranger was touched.
John sick?
No
The evasive tone, the look of pain in
the furrowed face were noticed by the
lady who asked these questions as the
gray head bowed upon the toil-marked
hand She wanted to hear her story,
and to help her.
Excuse me-John in troubleP'
No, no-Im 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 l
shouldn't be in trouble
What is your troubleP Maybe l can
help YOU
IT'S hard to tell it to strangers, but
my heart is too full to keep it back.
When | was left a widow with three
children, | thought it was more than |
could bear; but it wasn't as bad as
this
The stranger waited till she recovered
her voice to go on.
4 had only the cottege and my hands,
| toiled early and late all the years till
John could help. Then we kept the
girls at school-John and me. They
were married not long ago. Married
rich, too, as the world goes. John sold
the cottage, sent me to the city to live
with them, and he went west to begin
for himself He said he had provided
for the girls, and they would provide for
me now
Her voice choked with emotion. The
stranger waited in silence.
I went to them in the city, l went
to Mary's first. She lived a great house,
with servants to wait on her; a house
many times larger than the little cottage
but l soon found there wasn't room
enough for me-
The tears stood in the lines of her
cheeks. The ticket agent came out
softly, stirred the fire, and went back.
After pause, she continued
i went to Martha's-went with pain
in my heart | never felt before. l was
willing to do anything so as not to be
burden. But that wasn't it. found
they were ashamed of my bent old body
and my withered face-ashamed of my
rough, wrinkled hands-made so toiling
for 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
boarding house, and they'd keep me
there. / couldn't say anything. My
heart was too full of pain. wrote to
John what they were going to do. He
wrote right back long, kind letter for
me to come right to him. always had
a home while he had a roof, he said.
To come right there aud 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 heart-but there's
room for his old motherhood bless
him.
The stranger brushed tear from her
cheek and waited the conclusion.
Some day when I'm gone where I'll
never trouble them again. Mary and
Martha will think of it all. Some day
when the hands that toiled for them are
folded and still; when the eyes that
watched over them through many
weary night are closed forever; when
the little old body, bent with the bur-
dens it bore for them, is put away where
it never can shame them
The agent drew his hand quickly
before his eyes, as if to look for the
train The strangers fingers stroked
the gray locks, while the tears of sor-
row and of sympathy fell together. The
weary heart was unburdened. SoOthed
by touch of sympathy the troubled
soul yielded to the longing for rest, and
fell fast asleep. The agent went noise
lessly about his duties that he might not
wake her. AS the fair stranger watch
ed, she saw smile on the careworn
face. The lips moved. She bent down
to hear.
I'm doing it for Mary and Martha.
They'll take care of me sometime
She was dreaming of the days in the
little cottage-of the fond hopes which
inspired her, long before she learned,
with a broken heart, that some day she
would be homeless in the world, and go
to John.