The Tupelo journal., 1902-10-24
And as Coleridge wrote:
"A mother is a mother still;
The hnliasf thing aliveo

The hottest thing alive"
/ may have written it before. but
will write it again, that one night
| agreed to stay with two dear lit
tie girls while their father and moth
err went out to tea at a neighbours.
This pleased me, for / am always
happy in their company, and they in
mine. When bedtime came / un-
dressed them, and they knelt by my
knees and said their prayers; one Of
them was o asleep, but the other
fingered and said: "Gran'pa, when
papa comes home please tell him T
love him" eyes, I will" said /.
"What must l tell your mamma ?"
She closed her yes and said, "Noth-
ing-she knows l love her" That ex-
presses it. That child's father loves
those little girls dearly, but he keeps
a drug store, and is the prescription
partner. He goes to the store be-
fore the children get up. He has but
an hour with them at noon, and has
to return to the store soon after
supper. No wonder these little girls
want him to know that they love
him. Boys are very different, and
when they get in their teens mothers
lose their influence. Some say it is
bad associates. Of course, that has
something to do with it, but Cain
didn't have any that we know of, and
yet he killed his brother. Environ
ment is a big word, but it covers
everything that a boy inherits or
that he gets from association. One
day a friend of mine, a Hebrew, said
to me, major, l pelieve you does
love your shildurn better dan any
body in de town" ooh, no, 1 reckon
not" said 1. Don't you love your
children?" "Vy, yes, of course, but
l pelieve you would die for your shil-
durn." wouldn't you die for yours?"
said I. He pondered awhile. "Yes,
| pelieve l would; dat is, for alex
cept Frank" Frank was his bad boy,
and gave him trouble; but Frank
turned out to be a good boy, and is
one of the best citizens of Atlanta.
One of my best old-time friends
was a Norwegian, and he wa killed
during the a He had some good,
amiable daughters, and had two sons
who were bad, very bad, and, as 1
was mayor of the town, they gave
me trouble. Their father was a
member of the council, an elder in
my church, and / had favored his
boys as much as possible; but one
night, just before Christmas, they
broke into a hardware store and
stole a key of powder and hid it in
their stable loft. They had planned
to blow up the c~alaboose. The city
marshal, old Sam Stewart, found it
and arrested the boys and brought
them before me for trial. l put it
OFF until next morning. That night
| went to see the father and mother.
She cried, of course, and he choked
up as he talked. mine goot friend
has been prayin' over dis ting
about mine poys and it seem to me
de goot Lord say mine poys is goin'
to queet. Dey take it all from me,
[ has been in de calaboose in Stock
holm a hundred times, but one day
L queet. 1 shost queet rigt off all a
sudden, and l pelieve if you will try
my poys one more time dey will
queet." And sure enough they did
omit, and grew up to a good man.
hood. One of them is the cashier of
the largest bank in Memphis, and the
other the head of a hardware house
in Louisville, KY. Sometimes I think
that it is the halo of a mothers
prayers that reclaims many a way
ward boy. If the young man would
only stop and think-think of the
watches of the night when he was a
teething infant Juggling at an empty
breast for milk, while the poor, tired
mother changed him from side to
side and longed for the morning. L
have wondered how they survived it,
and why they would go through the
ordeal again. A man wouldn't, and
not all of them will help and COM
fort the poor mother when she feels
for the first time her urst born's
breath But we must not give up the
boys. May be they will, like the prodi-
gal son, o e to themselves and
'queet."
BILL ARP.