Connecticut western news., 1894-01-18

A. Garfield as president Of the United States was that after he had taken the oath of office he turned round and in the presence of the supreme court and the senate of the United States kissed his old mother. If I had time to take statistics out of this audience, and 1 could ask what proportion of you who
 are Christians owe 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 tell | ing of some comforts she had sent him,
 she concluded, We are all praying for | you, Charlie, that you may be Chris
 tian," he said, Boys, that's the sen- | tence."
 THE NEEDLE ENTHRONED.
 The trouble with Sisera's mother was that, while sitting at the window of my | text watching for news of her son from l the battlefield, she had the two bad qualities of being absolute and being | too fond of personal adornment. The ! Bible account says: ''Her wise ladies answered her yea. She returned answer | to herself: Have they not sped? Have they not divided the prey-to every ! man damsel or two, to Sisera prey of divers colors, prey of divers colors of needlework, of divers colors of nee- dlew ork on both sides?'" " She makes no anxious utterance about the wound ed in battle, about the bloodshed, about | the dying, about the dead, about the principles involved in the battle going on, battle so important that the stars and the freshets took part, and the clash of swords was answered by the thunder of the skies. What she thinks most of is the bright colors of the wardrobes to be captured and the needlework. 'To Sisera prey of divers colors, a prey of divers colors of needlework. of divers colors of needlework on both sides. Now neither Sisera's mother nor any one else can say too much in eulogy of the needle. It has made more useful | conquests than the sword. Pointed at one end and with an eye at the other, ! whether of bone or ivory, as in earliest time; or of bronze, as in Pliny's time; or of steel, as in modern time; whether laboriously fashioned as formerly by one hand, or as now, when 100 work
 men in factory are employed to make the different parts of one needle, it i an instrument divinely ordered for the | comfort, for the life, for the health, for the adornment of the human race. The eye of the needle hath seen more domes- | tic comfort and more gladdened power l ty and more Christian service than any other eye. The modern sewing machine has in no wise abolished the needle, but rather enthroned it. Thank God for the needlework, from the time when the Lord Almighty from the heavens or dered in regard to the embroidered door of the ancient tabernacle, Thou shalt l make hanging for the door of the tent of blue and purple and scarlet and fine ! twined linen wrought with needle werh," down to the womanly hands which this winter in this tabernacle are presenting for benevolent purposes their needlework. But there was nothing ex- cept vanity and worldliness and social splash in what Sisera's mother said about the needlework she expected her son would bring home from the battle. And am not surprised to find that Sis era fought on the wrong side when his mother at the window of my text in that awful exigency had her chief thought on dry goods achievement and social display. God only knows how many homes have made shipwreck op the wardrobe. And that mother who sits at the window watching for vain glorious triumph of millinery and fine colors and domestic pageantry will aft CT awhile hear as bad news from her children out in the battle of life as Sis era's mother heard from the struggle at Esdraelon.
 AN APOSTROPHE TO MOTHERS.
 But if you still press the question. Where's mother?" I will tell you where she is not, though once she was there. Some of you started with her likeness in your face and her principles in your soul. But you have cast her out. That was an awful thing for you to do, but you have done 1t. That hard, grinding, dissipated look you never got from her. If you had seen any one
 
 down without much care whether the blow was just sufficient or fatal; but, my boy, you have struck her down struck her innocence from your face and struck her principles from your soul. You struck her downl The tent pin | thct Jael drove three times into the | skull of Sisera was not so cruel as the stab you have made more than three | times through your mother s heart. But she IS waiting yet, for mothers are slow to give up their boys-waiting at some window, it may be window on earth | or at some window in heaven. All oth- CTS may cast you of. Your wife may seek divorce and have no more patience with you. Your father may disinherit
 you and say, "Let- him never again
 darken the door of our house, But there are two persons who do not give you up-God and mother.
 How many disappointed mothers waiting at the windowl Perhaps the | panes of the window are not great glass l plate, bevel edged and lowered over by exquisite lambrequin, but the window | is made of small panes, would say about six or eight of them, in summer wreathed with trailing vine and in
 winter pictured by the Raphaels of the forest. real country window. The
 mother sits there knitting, or busy with
 her needle on homely repairs, when she
 looks up and sees coming across the
 bridge of the meadow brook stranger, who dismounts in front of the window. He lifts and drops the heavy knocker of the farmhouse door. "Come imp is the
 response. He gives his name and says,
 = have come on sad errand. " There is nothing the matter with my son in the city, is there?" she asks. "Yesl"
 he says. ''Your son got into au unfor-
 tunate encounter with young man in
 liquor saloon last night and is badly
 hurt. The fact is he cannot get we'll.
 l hate to tell you all. I am sorry to say he is dead" "Deadp' she cries as aha fOffQra honE stnh