The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1897-11-27


with thread edging, nowl Sally, it
seems like l would hate to sell this
bureaul"
"I'll take it, mother, and keep it
for you," said Lizzie, quietly.
"Why, Lizzie, demonstrated her
sister n-law, "you haven't any room
for it,"
"I'll make ROOM" said Mrs. John
Bascom, little CURLY.
The old lady was not much help.
Every article in the house was full OF
tender memories to her; and as she
went from one to another, sitting
moment in fathers chair" and
touching this thing and that, she was
clearly giving a goodby to them all.
Such d hold inanimate things will get
upon the affectionsl
"You wouldn't have any use for
this new rag carpet, would you,
daughter7"
"None in the world, mother"
Il didn't know but you might put
it in the back part of the house. l
took heap of pains with this car
pet, and nearly the last thing father
did was to bring it home from the
weaver's. He took such an interest
in it when l was making it, father did.
You don't think you'd better put it
down in my room, do you, SallyY
ooh no, mother; it wouldn't be in
keeping with anything in the room.
And then I've just put down a new
body Brussels. l don't feel that
there is anything too good for my
mother" affectionately.
Mrs. Bascom smiled back bravely,
but she looked wistfully at the car
pet, after all.
And so it went.
The things were all sold; and when
Mrs. Bascom started for St. Louis
with her earthly belongings packed
in a new trunk, she was as stripped
and desolate an old woman, as ever
swallowed her tears and smiled. 1t
was as if grapevine had been pre-
pared for transplanting by carefully
shaking the earth from its roots and
clipping its tendrils neatly away.
They did not hear from her often.
Sally had said she would have all
the time there was now to write let
ters; but letter wilmington pleasure
had been crowded out of her busy
country life, and when leisure came
she was too old to form new habit.
Mrs. John Bascom went down to
ST. Louis at the time of the fair,
nearly year after the breaking up.
She stayed three weeks.
The night she came back she had
plain talk with her husband.
"Johp," she said, in answer to his
inquiries, mother is dying of home
sickness! She never makes COM
plant, but she is just as unhappy as
she can bel know she is"
"Why, Lizziew John Bascom raised
shocked face. "You don't mean
that Sally isn't good to motherl'
"Sally is just as good to mother as
she can be; that is, she is as good to
her as she knows how to be. But,
John, Sally has no more understand
ing of old peoples feelings than l
have of-French art! 1t is like this:
Sally wants mother to have an easy
time; so she takes her out of an act
i've country life, full of cares for 9th
er people, and puts her in her own
far-away city home, where there is
not a familiar object, and where she
has absolutely nothing to do.
"Then she expects her to be happy.
And it isn't in human nature to be-
at least it isn't in old peoples nature.
II wish you could see mot hers
room. John-Brussels carpet, lace
curtains, elegant rugs and folding
bed. And mother is horribly afraid
of that bed-thinks she is going to
be folded up in it some night. She
wanted Sally to give her bedstead,
but Sally said this matched the set
and was perfectly safe. So poor
mother goes to bed in fear and trem-
bling ever night.
"Then, of course, it has mattress;
and mother says she gets so cold in
the night that her bones just ache,
and she lies there and thinks how
good it would feel to have the feath-
ers come up around her back. Isn't
that pitiful, John? You know she
always slept on feathers. l spoke to
Sally about it and told her I would
get you to send her feather bed right
down. But Sally was quite stiff about
it-said she didn't think it best for
mother to sleep on feathers-it was