The Tupelo journal. (Tupelo, Miss.) 1876-1924, 1903-01-16
The Dearest Age.

"At what age do you think you
have loved your son most dearlyi'
This question a friend asked me
not long ago, and l was 4 little
/ surprised to find / could not an.
swer it; but, making some off-hand
reply, came home to think it out
The long, weary waiting is rellev.
ed by preparing for the arrival
of the little stranger; then from
the valley Of the shadow of death
comes the "Thahk God" from the
soul of new mother; the thank.
full prayer that floats straight
heayenward, a solemn acknowled.
ment Of dearly bought gift
shall never forget my frst hours
of motherhood, strange, uplifted
feeling as l thought l beheld q
vision denied to others, and when
my mother placed my wee son in
my arms, a delightful sense of
possession completion = seemed
fulfilled. A feeling of wild Joy
took possession of me, and | could
not understand how the rest of
the family could go quietly to bed
as usual, telling me to "sleep and
rest" Rest! with such new
born treasure and his whole
future to think out. Well, they
might ''rest,'' but as for me,
l was too near heaven and was
dazzled by its glorious light. Then
following the days when we were
growing tenderly used to each
other, slowly forging the links of
the chain called eternity. The
most perfect of earthly love, it
asks little and gives all. Surely
this period seemed dearest, when
his very life depended ON my
nourlshing it.
Then came those few first steps,
guided by my hand, little fingers
full Of mischief, thinking every
thing was made to eat, thus caus-
ing epdless anxieties for his moth
er.; yet those frstr SLIPS A.i and frst
words, how dear they are! Then
the first trousers, with their fine,
big pockets, and the pride with
which he dons them to show us he
is big boy now. Then the sacri-
fee Of curls, which have been
such pleasant care and pride
to the mother. They are put
away in a nox with other baby
thing, to be treasured, and per-
haps stray tear may fall on their
golden glory, just a memory, you
know; and the budding boy Is
dear to me, with boyish aches aud
injuries, his raids on my cake box.
Then the awkward boy of twelve
to seventeen, Ill at ease, bashful,
waking to all the mysteries of life
he must be answered truthfully,
with the wish That he may see life
in its purest and most natural way
developing his ideas, not crushing
them, leading, yet following him
through this difficult period. This,
our last and greatest opportunity
to prepare him for the world,
wherein he must stand or fall ac-
cording to the character which we
have tried to develop and help
him form. 1t is sweet. anxious
time for mother and child. Oh 4!
how dear he IS.
:'hen comes loves awakening,
and marriage Mother has well
come for. the bride, and tries to be
happy in his happiness; but that
queer little pain way down in her
heart will throb and ache for the
little condolences and (, attentions
that once were all hers. Still, it
is right so; and his success in life,
his children, his wife, are dearly
loved, and he is so dear 20 me.
There will come day when /
am called to prepare for long
journey, and one that | must trav-
81 alone; / know my boy will come
to say goodbye, and for the mo-
ruent he will seem all ages merg-
cd in one, and with his hand in
mine I will lead to prepare the
way.-Jeannette Young, IN Good
Housekeeping.
The Journal prints the above at
the request Of a venerable moth