The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1895-05-16
Archie's Mother.

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Arches wife! Yes. dear, but where's Archie
Ny nrst kiss 10 waiting for him,
For since his good-b bye that sad morning,
Past the years my tears have made dim,
No kiss has lain over his kisses, a~
No love has come into my life. ~t
But he who has had his caresses:
+ ask you this-you, his wife.
Hes not here to welcome his mother
What's wrong7 Is my dear son Ill!
You came? Yes, dear, but remember
Archte's place none other can fill.
Twas business detained him, reckon.
Well. well won't let 1t annoy;
No doubt he is climbing the ladder
Of fame he dreamed OF Is boy.
HE used to rehearse his ambition
At my feet, with his hand on my knee.
wish-but perhaps he is keeping
4 tenderer welcome for me.
Prince OF sons, he visits my slumbers.
And his kisses awake me at morn.
Forgive me, my dear, do grieve you!
Iloved him before you were born.
"You are sweet girl. don't blame you
For taking frst place in his heart.
Pm his mother and now every part
OF his nature, and somehow his letters
Have been rather downcast Of late,
he Is writing so often for money,
And hints at things sad to relate.
II thought you were childish and giddy;
Extravagant. too, confess;
But see no reason to chide you
For extravaganza in your dress.
Your pretty print frock Is quite tidy,
Your collar IS white as the snow
But 1. you don't spend them for laces,
Where is it the dollars oil 60?
"The carriage? Oh, well, never mind it,
Well walk II it isn't far;
I'm quite numb and weary with sitting
So long in the dusty car.
Thanks, dear Archie's arm would be stronger
To think l shall see him today,
Ny tall, handsome son! dow is baby?
Are his eyes blue like yours or gray?
"Not overly strong? It's mercy
came to you now; for know
All about the needs of = baby,
And the food that will make him grow.
My Archie was puny and sickly
l. For years, the most OF the time;
kept the breath Of life in him
BY doses of brandy and wine.
Eyes. brandy and wine are great blessings
To mothers in many a way;
Without them couldn't have raised him
TO love US and bless us today.
And the little rogue learned to like them;
Why he'd take the bltterest pill
With only swallow of porter
To wash 1t down-Dear, are you ill?
You're not going1 lose your baby;
Just give me ap'enty Of time,
And he shall be strong and rosy,
Ill cure him as cured mine!
You'd rather he'd die! Alice Dutton.
I'm surprised, nay, shocked I confess.
Are you Christian or pagan, wonder,
That you dare stand here and express
Such heathenish views! Will the Father
Work miracles, think, for your son?
VIII He take your sick boy and cure him,
Till your part is faithfully done?
| '.What harm can the medicine do him?
You fear for his future? Such fears
Are food for fools and fanatics,
Those long. vsaged, s0othsaying seers
! VINO trail their prophetic horrors
Through all the bright places Of life,
Who sit, like Deaths head at the banquet,
To herald the oncoming strife.
cts shame on your son to suggest it!
A shame on your darling and mine!
Why! six generations of buttons
Have proved themselves stronger than VIM
Not once disgracing their manhood.
Don't mention it, Alice, pray:
Your boy Is the last Of the lineage
Do you think him less noble than they?
Disgrace is unknown to Dutton
In all their ancestral line.
Do YOU fear tnat their blue blood is furnished
And weakened by mixture with thine?
Nay, child, your grave apprehensions
Are shadow]ess as the wlrd
Don't weep so, dear, A -chie's mother :.
Never meant to be urkind.
"You are like fair, gentle daughter,
Your face is so tender and sweet,
You are ,ike-but where are we going?
Why ourn do in that terrible street?
This house! Why. child, tits hoyel!
See that dr.'ak man S: FETCHED in the way!
Don't show me runs wIetcheduess, Alice,
I'm worn out with travel to-day
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Among those so wre:ched'y low?
You, wife of nv sol. and the mother
OF my sons son! Let usgo
To your home at once. Alice! Alice!
Don't touch that vie drunken man,
The loathsome being has fallen
AS low as humanity can.
His very breath is pollution;
Redemption for s1ch there is none.
He!-O my God! tits Archie!
IT is Arc lie, my son, my son!'
Rose Hartwick Thorpe, in Demorests Mag
aZine.
After spending a lifetime and
fortune in advertising DIR. Ward:
Remedies, The J. r. Watkins Medica
Company have built up a large bust
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