The Austin weekly statesman. (Austin, Tex.) 1883-1898, 1892-03-10
THE CORNER.

reception: 'tbecause can always keep
them with me. A mother need not
allow even marriage to separate her
from her girls, but she has to give up
her bows so early!n And then another
little lady, championing her group OF
handsome young sons, exclaimed,
"And am so glad mine are all boys!
You don't know how sweet and at
tractive my daughters-in-law are all
going to be. know shall love them
when they come, just as though they
were my own daughters. OF course,
nv daughters-in-law are ever so many
wears off, but in the meantime I have
my boys, and every mother Apply
as long as her boys think tL,.a is no
one in the world like her. And so
both mothers were satisfied-one with
her GIRLS, the other with her boys,
and nothing was wanting to make
either circle complete.
Nv
He had Just come back from visit,
and there was trouble in his honest
face, roughened and sunbrowned as it
was. When someone questioned him,
he drew the back of toll worn hand
across his eyes and made answer in
his simple fashion: "You see," he
said, "mother had been sort o. pinin'
for long time to go back an see the
little old town where her an father
useter live years ago, an where father
was buried; an KNOWN mother was
gittin' old, an might soon be where L
couldn't never do anything for her
any more, KEEP a savin' up money
for the trip. 1t was hard work, for
times is been mighty close with us;
but at last | got it saved up, an two
weeks ago we went. Well, when we
drove into the town, mother begin to
look around, puzzled like, and it
wasn't long before she cried out,
why, what have they done to every
thing' You see, it was changed a
good deal in so many years, an even
the old church was gone, an they
was lots finer one in it's place,
but couldn't even get mother togo
inside of it. But we found the old
home place pretty much as it was,
an L wish you could IA seen mother!
She went wanderin' around, lookin'
that sorrowful that it most broke my
heart; an she says: You remember
the swing you ulster have in that
limb, John? AM here's the honey
suckle vine planted jist week be-
fore little Ben died. An look at that
poor OF pear tree! L put it into the
ground when it was nothin' but lit
tie SWITCH! 1t was just the same
when we got into the house. She
knew every nail in it; an she had
driv' some of 'em herself. She showed
me where fathers picture used to
hang an where his coffin had stood
an she knew every nook am corner
about the whole place. Well, we
stayed there, as they was old neigh
bors of ours that lived in the house,
and the very next day mother was
took sick, though. She was just
a-talkin', incOherent-like, about old
times, an children she ulster
go to school with; an suddenly she
jumped up in the bed, an cried out in
kind o. glad way: why, Williamp
that was fathers name, you know
William! I've had such a sorrowful
dream! dreamed that you was dead,
an | was old!-so old! an everybody
was gone L ulster knowp AM then
she sank back an pretty soon she was
gone That was all. I'm glad 1 took
her back to the old place first. 1t
makes it seem easier to bear. She
had hard life, poor mother! but it
cheers man up to know that when
she got clear to the edge, an could
look forward as we'll as backward, all
this hard, poor life seemed like q
dream an that one over there was the
reality"
And again the hard, rough hand
went up to the misty eyes.
JULIA TRUITT BISHOP.