The Bolivar bulletin. (Bolivar, Tenn.) 1888-1946, 1894-01-26

mother of Nero, a murderess, you are
not surprised that her son was muir
derer. Give that child an overdose OF
catechism and make him recite verses
of the Bible as punishment and make
Sunday a bore, and he will become
stout antagonist of Christianity. I'M
press him with the kindness and the
geniality and the loneliness of religion
and he will be its advocate and exem
plar for all time and eternity. A few
days ago right before our express train
on the Louisville & Nashville railroad
the preceding train had gone down
through a broken bridge, twelve cars
falling a hundred feet and then con
sumed. ] saw that one span Of the
bridge was down and all the
other spans were standing. Plan
good bridge of morals for your sons and
daughters, but have the first span OF
ten years defective. and through that
they will crash down. though all the
rest keep standing. Oh man! Oh wom-
AM If you have preserved your integ-
rity and are really Christian, you have
first of all to thank God, and / think
next you have to thank your mother
The most impressive thing at the in
auguration of James A. Garfield as
president of the United States was
that after he had taken the oath of Of
fee he turned around. and in the pres
ence of the supreme court and the
senate of the United States. kissed
his old mother II / had time
to take statistics out of this au
dience, and / could ask what proper
- 49,
your salvation under God to maternal
fidelity, think about three-fourths of
you would spring to your feet. ''Ha!
hal'' said the soldiers of the regiment
to Charlie, one of their comrades.
what has made the change in you?
You used to like sin as we'll as any of
us Pulling from his pocket his
mothers letter in which, after telling
of some comforts she had sent him, she
concluded: "We are all praying for you.
Charlie. that you may be Chistian,'
he said! "Boys that's the sentences.
How many disappointed mothers
waiting at the window. Perhaps the
panes of the window are not great
glass Snlate, bevel-edged and lowered
over by exquisite 1ambrequin, but the
should say about six or eight of them,
in summer wreathed with trailing vine
and in winter pictured by the Raphaels
of the frost, real country window.
The mother sits there knitting, or
busy with her needle or home
ly repairs, when she looks
up, and sees coming across the
bridge of the meadow brook a
stranger, who dismounts in front of
the window. He lifts and drops the
heavy knecker of the farm house door.
s'Come IMP is the response. He gives
his name, and says: 81 have come on
a sad Grand" ''There is nothing the
matter of my son in the city, is there?"
she asks. "Yes.'' he says, ''your son
got into an unfortunate encounter with
a young man in a liquor saloon last
night, and is badly hurt. The fact is,
he can not get well. I hate to tell
you all. / am sorry to say he is dead :"
''Deadi'' she cries, as she totters back.
''Oh, my son! my son! my son! Would
God had died for theel" That is the
ending of all her cares, and anxieties,
and counsels for that boy. That is her
pay for her selfssacrifces in his behalf.
That is the bad news from the battle.
So the tidings of derelict or Christian
sons travel to the windows of earth, or
the windows of Heaven at which moth
ers sit.
But" says some one. 'are you no
mistaken about my glorified mothef
hearing of my evil doings since shs
went away" Says some one else: "Arr
you not mistaken about my glorifiee
mother hearing of my se1f-sacrifiea
and moral bravery and struggle to do
right?'' No! Heaven and earth are
! in constant communication. There
are trains running every five
minutes-trains of itnmortals ascend
| ing and descending-spir going from
earth to Heaven to- live there. Spirits
| descending from Heaven to earth to
minister and help. They hear from us
many times every day. Do they hear
| tie, this Sedan, this Thermopy1H, this
Austerlitz, in which every one of us is
fighting on the right side or the wrong
side Oh God! whose / am, and whom
/ am trying to serve, as a result of
this sermon, roll over on all mothers
a new sense of their responsibility, and
upon all children, whether still in the
nursery or out on the tremendous
esdraelop of middle or old age, the fact
that their victories or defeats sound
clear out, clear up to the windows of
sympathetic maternity. Oh, is not this
the minute when the. cloud of blessing
filed with the exha1ed tears of anxious
mothers shall burst in showers of mercy
on this audience?
There is one thought that is almost
too tender for utterance. l almost fear
to start it lest / have not enough con-
| troll of my emotion to conclude it. AS
when we were children we SO often
came in from play or from a hurt or
from some childish injustice practiced
apon us, and as soon as the door was
opened we cried: ''Where's mothers"
and she said; Here l am,' and we
buried our weeping faces in her
lap; so after awhile when we
get through with the pleasures and
hurts of this life, we will, by the
pardoning mercy of Christ, enter the
Heavenly home, and among the first
questions, not the first but among the
first, will be the old question that we
used to ask, the question that is being
asked in thousands of places at TINS
very thofnent--the question; where
mother?'' And it will not take
long for US to find her or for
her to find us, for she will have
been watching at the window Tor
our coming. and with the other chill