The Birmingham age-herald., 1907-12-08
HER SON
BY CAROLINE ABBOTT STANLEY.
(Copyright.l

"A two engines. toiled up the steep A Rocky Mountain pass. Below a shining track showed whence it had come, above, another-far up in the mountain foretold where it would go. How it was to get there no man could tell.
 Mrs. Etheridge sat drinking in the glory of it all. Her unstintedS enthusiasm touched the pride of the local passengers.
 The train glided over a trestle, and vista opened on the other side. Mrs. Etheridge was on her feet instantly. The Colorado woman opposite leaned toward her.
 "Your first trip over the pass?"
 ''Yes. Isn't it magnificent"
 The woman took her traps and moved back of the other.
 'I'll give you my seat too,' she said in the kindly western fashion. "The views on both sides" It was easy afterward to fall into conversation.
 "Going far?" asked the Colorado Wo- man. "Oh, into the mining district!
 'Yes. to visit my son."
 "Ahal Is he married?"
 ''No. I sometimes wish he were"
 q don't know" said the woman thoughtfully. Ut will be an awful trial to you when you have to give him up, | know My eldest son was married last year. It nearly killed me. And I've got my husband and two children left, too.'
 And I should have nothing," said Mrs. Etheridge, softly. My husband is dead
 The woman shook her head. 'I hope he won't marry. Hell never be the same to you" Her eyes were full. "lrTI feel as if I've lost mine"
 It isN strange how we sometimes drop into heart talks with strangers. Possibly the very fact that they are strangers makes us freer to lay bare our inner life. They know nothing about us. not even our names, perhaps; our paths will not cross again; for once we may say just what we think.
 .'You ought not to feel that way" said Mrs Etheridge. ''Try to feel, instead, that you have gained a daughter" It was one of those sweet platitudes With which people who have never had a scar try to mollify gaping wounds.
 ''I haven't gained daughter I've lost son." The emollient had proved an ir- ritant. "You'n feel just as l do some day.
 q hope not" Mrs. Etheridge spoke earnestly. 'Tve been schooling myself all these years to meet this thing. l want my son to marry-when the right woman comes."
 '"The right woman, yes But suppose your son should marry woman that you didn't like and couldn't"
 My son would never love anybody that I would not take to my heart as daughter" said Mrs. Etheridge And she confidently believed it.
 Her companion looked at her with kind- ling eyes.
 You're a good woman,' she said. You deserve a good daughter-in-law. But hope he won't marry, just the same"
 The climb through the mountains was a glorious one. Mrs. Etheridge felt lifted up spiritually. with Robert and these mountains" she thought, "I can give up the rest"
 She had not seen him for four years. After he graduated in mining engineer ing he had an offer in Silver Graz. The separation wrung her heart, but she made no sign. q will never be an op- stacle in the way of Roberts success she had said. She did not know it, but Roberts success was dearer to her al- most than her hope of heaven It had be- come the ruling thought of her life.
 He had said to her at parting. "In send for you, mother, when get start. We'll have a home together yet She had lived on that thought for four years. But the message had not come
 A month ago the high school in which she taught was burned. Mrs. Etheridge did some figuring that night. She had been teaching 23 years. It was long time! She could see now the block robed figure going to school that first morning, holding tightly by the hand the little 5-year-old who looked up to her as such tower of strength-she who was In reality so faint-hearted. He never Knew. He always thought she was strong.
 Her thoughts sped on through the gram mar school days, when she was still the leader; to the high school when she be- gan to study to keep up with him. They were companions through it all
 And then-why, then he went away from her--went as far as the great ocean on the east. Only that? Nay. She might have followed him there. But he went sailing into the unknown waters of higher mathematics and physical science, and her little bark must keep close to shore. She might not go further with him. Well, if only Rob should make a success, an abundant success of life, she would be content.
 Those years had been so long, So long! Somehow, the student of technology seemed further away from her than the little lad who filled her stocking. She closed the book at last.
 I'm going to Robert. I'll give myself one year of rest" In her heart she was saying, "Ill never leave him again. l will make home for him."
 Robert Etheridge met his mother at the train. He was a handsome young fel- low No wonder she was proud of him.
 They walked up to his boarding place. It was but a step and she wanted to see the town Such a queer looking place! It lay in a canyon, the walls of which were the sloping sides of the mountains. The canyon stream ran through the town and the main street was beside it. Other streets were dug out from the mountain side, and the houses ranged in tiers one above the other.
 How I shall enjoy this.'' Mrs. Ether idge exclaimed, stopping to survey the town.
 How did you happen to give up your place, mother?, her son asked as they started on.
 .I couldn't stay away from you any longer, laddie, But I did not give it up permanently-I could go back next year
 "Oh, mo- Only the times are so hard good place he'd better stick to it. But you can, go back next year, you say?"
 'Yes. I can go back next year"
 She did not herself notice the change of tense. They walked on little distance and then Mrs. Etherdge stopped.
 How different the effect upon one of being right in the mountains" she said. .At a distance they so inspiring But here they seem to shut one in Do you notice it, Robert?"
 Its the altitude. You are little short of breath"
 q think that must be it." she said slowly. "Yes-Fm sure that is it."
 At the door of his boarding house Rob- crt Etheridge stopped.
 You mustn't expect to find things here as they are back home, mother,' he said