Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1893-11-30
NEVER TOO LATE.
How the Old Folks Proved the
Adage O True Ono.

BhBe-WOulun pay tncy hhlu-huu Jne
father and mother would have TO end
their days apart
Because" said Matilda, the young
est, 'it wouldn't do for any one of us TO
try 10 take care of them both together.
We've always had to live in the quarrel
and jangle ourselves, and TO have the
example Of 1T before our children would
be a downright sin"
Jane, the older daughter, said moth
ing, but she thought TO herself that II
her husband were worth as much as
Matilda's was she would take both par
ents TO her home and risk the example
they might set for the third generation.
But ever since Matilda had first
lisped her voice had settled family mat
ters, and so father was TO go with Jane
TO the city and mother TO move over TO
the great red-brick farmhouse which
was Matilda's home.
Mother will be right handy about
the work." Matilda said TO her hus band,
when he showed some inclination TO
object And there isn't better hand
In the country with children. We won't
lose anything"
So the September morning came
when the couple who had never parted
well, much as mere acquaintance
would have done.
Father, dressed In his best clothes
muttered "Good-by" in n defiant sort
OF way and hobbled out TO the spring
wagon, while Jane paused TO kiss the
little old woman who sat looking out
of the window In an Indifferent way.
'Good-by, mother. hope you will
be happy with Mat Won't you come
TO the door and see father off2"
"Oh-I dunno as it's wuth while" re-
turned the old. lady, and then Jane, too,
was gone.
When she was sure the spring wagon
was out OF sight Mrs. Paine put on her
gingham bonnet and walked over TO
the cemetery just up the hill
The graves where she paused were
not well tended-no engraved stones
marked their places and the grass was
cut away only enough to outline the
mounds. Two were small, those of In
fants; one was that of a mans size, and
they were all her children, two daugh-
tcrs and one son. The son was her old
est child and he would have been
forty-eight or forty-nine years old now.
lie had died while studying for the
ministry. She had seven children liv-
ing, but In her times of trouble aud
sorest trial she had always wandered
over TO this sacred spot ever since it
was first made thirty years ago.
To-day she sat down in the sun-dried
grass and cried for some time.
"lIe might a-said something more"
she sobbed to herself. And then she
heard Matilda calling and hurried back
to the house.
The months passed slowly. At Christ
mas time there was some talk of re-
union, but the talk did not materialize.
Letters came from Jane saying fa-
ther was tolerably contented, but missed
his loafing place at "The Corners"
lie sent his regards to mother. Jane
always added that of her own accord,
for father never sent any word to any
one But when Matilda answered the
old mother always told her TO inquire
after fathers health and to send her re-
spects.
1t was one warm day In March that
the little old lady's cup seemed full to
ovcrilowing Matilda had gone 10 town,
and the children were unusually quar-
relsome and boistrous The grand
mother had reproved them mildly, and
at last she spoke little sharply.
brothers and sisters shouldn't
wrangle the hull timel You ort to say
n decent word TO one nuther onct In
awhile, anywaysr she said.
Lucy, the chief culprit, tossed her
head disdainfully.
II guess you needn't to talk, grand
ma! Mamma says you and grandpa al
ways lived like cats and dogs"
And you're livin' off papa, now,
too" added George, emboldencd by his
sisters example, and not particular as
to whether his remarks were called for
or not.
Mrs. Paine sat very still for mo-
ment Then IA bright red spot famed
on each cheek, and gathering up her
knitting she slowly went to her room
upstairs.
Yes, II was true. But what had
caused it2 They had married young
and for love only, for neither had any
worldly wealth. How had the trouble
commenced2 She could not remember
exactly, but the children were the
main causes. The babies came fast and
the mother had to work hard. Sick
ness and hard work do not sweeten q
womans temper The father was i'm
patient and easily rebuffed-that was
how II commenced.
Then the jarring eliminated In one
great quarrel, when Henry, the oldest,
was sent away to school His father
wanted TO hire him out when he was
seventeen, but the mother was ambi-
tious and Henry had finished the course
at the village academy with high hon
ors.
lie was thirsting for more study-a
bright, handsome lad, and his mother
was SO proud of him-and he went
away TO college. But never again was
there peace between the parents. At
college Henry was converted 10 religion
and decided to study for the ministry
then he was stricken with typhoid
fever, and the greater part of his moth
er's heart was buried with him In the
village cemetery.
The poor little faded mother sat there
recalling the long-lost year1, now with
thrill, now with pang, earthly am
bitions and death-despairs strangely
mingled, and not noting the silence In
the rooms below until the sun was near
setting, Then Matilda's voice was call
ing through the house and the mother
awoke from herreveries and went down
staft.a