The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1897-03-14
WHEN HIS MOTHER DIED.

That almost inconceivable, yet memorable
calamity which the boy has dreaded ever
since earths dearest idols ceased to be i'm
mortal, is drawing near. From his earliest
remembrance there have come to him occa-
sional shadowy, pensive moments, strange
reflex tides of emotion, when he would
pause in his play and sigh in half con-
scious recognition of the presentiment of
this ordeal. Even to the verge of tears he
has sometimes grieved in it's anticipation;
yet he knows now that he has never truly
realized it, that his fancy has never been
able for an instant TO grasp its overwhelm-
ing import His mother is going TO die. For
weeks he has been hoping and praying,
fearing and weeping; but there is no longer
any hope left, longer any efficacy in
prayer-nothing but tears remaining 10 him.
1t is a plain, pitiless fact, condition as
uncomfortable, as inevitable as the setting
of the sun. His own mother-that mother
who has always been part of his life. who
gave him life and with whom every circum-
stance of life, as he traces it backward and
outward, is nseparably Joined. She is going
to be swept out of existence. He wonders
what the world will be like after-after--
but he cannot conceive. 1t is all black and
incomDrehensible.
Day after day she lies patiently i'm the lit
tie bedroom, the shadow and memory
filled bedroom, which has always been such
delightful place. which, henceforth. will
be such holy place-wracked with pain
worn with WEAKNESS, but never complain
ing. o she is a saint already, he thinks, as
he tip-toes out of the ROOM there is so lit
tie corruptibe to become incorruptible
there, surely the kingdom OF heaven which
she is so soon 10 enter will make little
change in her. Is she not-has she not ever
been sanctifed? He steals away TO his one
boyish place of refuge. the barn, TO medi-
tate. Vainly he tries to picture to himself
the glories of that strange, far-off country
beyond the skies, 10 which she is going
Those pearly gates and streets of gold in
which he believes literally, will his
mother care so very much for them. he
wonders. She has never seemed fond of Law
ish display here Only one plain gold ring
and a cameo brooch-but she could not af-
ford much jewelry. And she will be rich
and always happy there. perfectly happy,
forever. But a perplexing thought arises.
She loves him-once. when she went away
for a fortnight's visit she cried and she
cried again when she came home. as she
told him how lonely and homesick she had
n,
loves home; how, then, can she be perfect
ly happy up there. so far away? Only by
forgetting, he reasons. and surely. surely.
she can never quite do that.
Some one is calling him. oh, perhaps she
is dying now. and he rushes wildly to the
house. But il is only the minister. not the
| angel of DEATH who has come and he is
| going TO pray with them. The boy goes i'm
with downcast eyes. There is a funereal air
everywhere. Each face is ayerted and tear
full, except the minister's and hers. The
preachers pious countenance is tranquil
and there is radiant. restful glory in the
mothers waxen features. such as he has
never seen before. and she smiles like a
| glad bride. She beckons the boy TO her and
as the minister kneels beside them, her
feeble arms clasp him close against her
bosom. Many a time in his tempestuous lit
tie life he has cried; but he has never wept
such flood Of convulsive. heart-broken
| anguish before and never will again. Ev-
| cry pathetic word of the prayer sinks
straight into his soul and makes him shud-