The Fulton County news. [volume] (McConnellsburg, Pa.) 1899-current, 1901-03-14
ns to grow feeble. reauires

gins to grow feebley requires
some care, is notalways perfect
ly patient or satisfied; she goes
from one child's house TO another,
SO that no place seems like home.
She murGurs, in plaintive tones,
that, after all her toll and weari-
ness, it is hard she cannot be al
lowed a home to die in; that she
must be sent, rather than invited,
from house to house, Eighty.
eighty -two-three-four. -
All! she is a second child now;
"she has outlived her usefulness,
she has now ceased to be q com
fort TO herself or anybody"-that
is, she has ceased to be profitable
to her earth-craving and money
grasping children.
Now sounds out, reverberating
through our lovely forest, and
echoing back from our chill of the
dead" eighty-ninel There she
now lies in her coffin, cold and
still; she makes no trouble now,
demands no love, no soft words,
no tender little Offices. A look
of patient endurance-we fancied
also, an expression of grief for
unrequited love-sat on her mar
BILE features. Her children were
there, clad in weeds of woe,
and in irony we remember the
strong mans words, "She was
a good mother in her day"
When the bell ceased tolling,
the strange minister rose in the
pulpit. His form was very erect,
and his voice strong, but his hair
was silvery white. He read sew
eral passages of Scripture ex-
pressive of Gods compassion for
feeble man, and especially of his
tenderness when gray hairs are
on him and his strength faileth.
He then made some touching re-
marks on human frailty, and of
dependence ON God, urging all
present to make their peace with
their Master while in health,
that they might claim his prom
Use when heart and flesh failed.
"Then," he said, "the eternal
God shall be thy refuge, and be-
meath thee shall be the everlast-
ing arms" Leaning over the
desk, and gazing intently on the
coffined form before him, he then
said reyerently: "F'rom a little
child l have honored the aged:
but never, till gray hairs covered
my own head, did l know, truly,
how much love and sympathy
this class have a right to.demand
of their fellow-creatures. Now
| feel it. "Our mother, "he add
ed, most tenderly, "wbo now lies
in death before us, was a strang-
er to me, as are all of these, her
descendants. All | know of her
is what her son has told me to-
day-that she was brought to this
town afar, siXty-nine years ago a
happy bride-that here she pass
ed most of her life tOiling as only
mothers ever have strength to
toll, until she had reared large
family of sons and daughters
that she left her home here, clad
in weeds of widowhood to dwell
among her children till health
and strength left her. God for
bid that conscience should ac-
cuse any of you of ingratitude or
murmuring on account of the
care she has been to you of late.
When you go back to your homes
be careful of your example before
your own children;for the fruit of
your own doing you win surely
reap from them when you your
selves totter on the brink of the
grave. | entreat you as a friend,
as one who has himself entered
the evening of life, that you
may never say III the presence Of
your families nor of heaven, "Our
mother had out lived her useful
ness-she was a burden to us. "
Never, never.-a mother can new
er live so long as that! No; when
she can no longer labor for her
nor yet care for herself
she can fall like a precious weight