Evening star., 1902-08-23

what he had been as a child" Sonny
Boys Diary" she whispered to me. Il
Want you TO take them-lzeep them until
he comes home, and then give them to
him. And l want you to read them, too,
so that you may know-and-and-sym
pathize"
sympathize with whom. wondered. With
George, or with her? All, [ soon found
out. l thought she had gone after the
prayers had been said, she lay on the bed
so still and quiet. But she opened her
eyes presently and whispered brokenly in
the silence:
Tell him-I love him better than-than-
anyone in the whole world-wiIl-ever-love
him -'Sonny-Boy.'
After that her eyes remained open until
L closed them.
1 took the books home and the evening
OF the day of the funeral 1 sat down to
read them. 1t was late at night-or rather
carry IN the morning-when l finished
them, and l did something for which my
conscience has troubled me ever since
wish l could tell You all that was in
those little worn blank books, Every word
OF them had been written by her own hand.
She began with his birth, the first entry
being made as soon she was able to hold
the pen. She chronicled relgiously every
event that bore even the remotest relation
10 the boy. You could See how he grew
into her life, how he became a part of IT,
and finally. as the years passed by, all of It,
There was nothing that ne did or said
which was not noted. His most trivial ac-
all faithfully set down and commented
upon. In those books was the history of the
development of a human being nay, the
development of great passion as well
AS ne grew older, and his mother lost
successfully his father and the two little
girls. II was easy to see how the boy be-
came more and more to her. The entries
were longer and mora connected-more CO.
herent. l should say. There We're whole
pages filled with speculations concerning
MN. She set down the ambitions she cher
ished for his work, the hopes born in her
heart for his future, her dreams of his
achievements that were to be: she quoted
bits from his letters when he was away at
school. She inserted photographs of him in
an stages or development. She wrote out
the prayers that she made for his welfare.
The entries abounded with expressions of
her eyere-growjng, absorbing love for him
Yes, and when he had his boysh ffirtations,
and had evidently written to her about the
charming girls he had met. the jealousy of
mothers heart spoke in her comments. II
was quite evident to me as I read on, alb
sorDed IN II all that she would never have
been able to bear the idea of any one COM
ing between her and that lad. How she re-
1oiced in his successes and love for heri
There were troubles, too illnesses scrapes,
put her love never wavered, and things al
ways seemed to come right In the end
1 could see that the keeping of that diary
mad become a passion with her She con-
fessed herself to 1t as a devotee might to
some spiritual adviser. She poured out her
heart on those pages which no living eve
but mine had ever seen, l verify believe
She was absolutely true, entirely frank.
The book was self-revelation, all uncon
scious. l could see the ennobling effect Of
that great passion. She grew greater as
read on and on. A soul was laid bare in
the written pages. / seemed to be treadine
on halIowed ground as 1 tenderly turned
the faded leaves. No one could ever have
| spoken aloud as she wrote It's not in ma
| ture to do so. 1t was her secret heart. her
most sacred feelings, her inmost soul that
lived and vibrated in the silent letters T
| seemed to be looking at things not meant
| for mortal eyes.
And through 1t all there was a note of
| depreciation Was she couId sba y.
worthy of him, O. the sweetness of tbs
humility of a mother!
But l cannot linger to tell the story all
| L read. all l OWNED. At last came the
| entries OF the present year. When he had
gone away she had sworn she would he
brave He was soldier. he must do his
| outy, and uphold the honored name OF his
| 1atner' but, Q, the anxiety of 1t all, I
| could see that 1t had almost killed her. vet
| she had kept up under the dreadful strain
! until the news of his death came
l am not ashamed to say that I put the
book down and cried like a baby when
| read what she had written. Broken-heart
! ed sentences. bits of prayer words of
| Scripture. 20, Absalom, my son INV
| son" Tears on the pages. The pages
[ were alive with her words. AS 1 said. thew
! spoke as no human voice could have
| spoken. They told a tale which humanity
could not have revealed. And her heart
was broken.
= Then came the entry of the day when 7
had told her she was doomed. The sub