The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1893-12-22
NEVER TOO LATE.
How the Old Folks Proved the
Adage a True One.

place would have to be sold, for none of
the bows. were willing to lift the mort
gage-wouldn't pay, they said-and the
father and mother would have to end
their days apart
Because said Matilda, the young
est, lit wouldn't do for any one of us TO
try to 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 " vould
Toe a downright sim
Jane. the older daughter, said moth
ing, but she thought To herself that if
her husband were worth as much as
Matilda's was she would take bot par
ents to her home and risk the Inple
they might set for the third generation
But ever since Matilda had first
lisped her voice had settled family mat
tiers, 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 oand.
when he showed some inclination TO
object. And there isn't better hand
in the country with children. We won't
lose anything"
80 the September morning came
when the couple who had never parted
in fifty years bade each other fare
well, much as mere acquaintances
would have done
Father, dressed in his best clothes
muttered ''Good-by'' in a defiant sort
of way and hobbled out to the sOring
wagon, while Jane paused to kiss the
little old woman who sat looking out
of the window in an indifferent way
''Good-bv, mother. | hope you viii
be happy with Mat Won't you come
to the door and see father OFF,
''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 We're
not well tcnded-no engraved s5ones
marked their places and the grass was
cut away only enough to outline the
mounds Two We're small, those Of in
fauJs; one was that of mans size, and
they were all her children. two daugh-
tiers and one SON The son was he- old
est child and he would have been
forty-eight or forty-nine years old now.
He had died while studying for the
ministry. She had seven childrel liv-
ing, but in her times OF trouble aud
sorcst trial she had always wan. cred
over To this sacred spot ever since il
was first made thirty years ago
To-day She sat down in the sun-lried
grass and cried for some time.
He might a-said something more"
heard Matilda calling and hurried back
to the house
The months passed slowly At lrist-
mas time there was some talk OF re-
union. but the talk did not materialize-
Letters came from Jane saying IA
ther was toierably contented, but missed
his loafing place at The Corr ers
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 fiji To
overflowing. Matilda had gone to town.
and the children We're unusually quar-
mother had reproved them mildly, and
at last she spoke little sharply.
brothers and sisters shouldn't
wrangle the hull time, You ort u say
a decent word to one nuther onct IN
awhile, anyways she said
Lucv. the chief culprit, tossed her
head disdainfully.
Il guess you needn't to talk, grand
ma, Mamma says you and grandpa al
ways lived like eats and dogs"
and you're livin' off papa, now,
too" added George, emboldcned by his
sisters example, and not particular as
to whether his remarks were called for
or not
Mrs. Paine sat very still for 4 mo-
ment Then a bright red spot famed
on each check, and gathering up her
knitting she slowly went to her room
upstairs
Yes. it was true. But what had
caused IT.? They had married .roung
and for love only, for neither hs any
worldly wealth. How had the Il ouble
commenc Il? She could not remt mber
exactly, but the children wers the
main causes. The babies came IA = and
The. mother had to work hard. Sick
ness and hard work do not sweeten
womaE's temper The father WAS i'm
patient and easily rebuffed-that was
how it commenced.
Then the jarring eliminated in one
great quarrel, when Henry, the Oldest,
WAS sent away To school His -ather
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
He was thirsIing for more study-a
bright, handsome lad, and his mother
was 50 proud of him-and he went
away To college. But never aga was
there peace between the parents. At
college Henry was converted To 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 sa- there
recalling the long-lost years, nov with
a thrill, now with n pang, earth Y am
bitions and death-despairs strangely
mingled, and not noting the silence in
the rooms below until the sun wa near
setting. Then Matilda's voice was call
ing through the house and the mother
avolSe from her reveries and went down
stairs
where are the children?" dem anded
Matilda, sharply.
Now. / declar / dunno," confessed
her mot her. shamefacedlv.
well, mother. 1t does seem 10 me
as much as l do for you, You mig. looh
after them better Its all you've got
| to do. There's no telling what mischief
they're in!'
And again the old lady went 20 heI
room in silence and with burning
! checks. When they called her to sup
| per she said she was not hungry, and
/ as Lucy and George We're in d re dis