The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1909-03-18
MY SONS WIFE.

but numbered among the potentialltles;
in the land of the unborn she may be
shyly lingering. For the prospective
bridegroom. albeit he fills his mothers
heart, exists only in miniature. His JOY
Gus run is perilous and uncertain. The
little linen suits he wears call forth
amazed comment at their maturity
Nathless, two years is no uniting IN
terval twixt spouses. My sons wife may
well be a fact accomplished. 1t is as
babe, newborn babe lying Silly III
cradle, that l picture her.
And what is she like, this little girl
l wonder; this little girl who means so
much to him. so dear to me? Does she
lie there plump or puny, brown or lily
fair, serene or wailful? And the cot she
lies in is it lace bedecked, beribboned
hung with curtains of fair white dim
ity? Or stands it bare and rudely fash
toned of the twopenny banana box?
Where is the home that she has come
to? Do her unseeing eyes stare out on
white town streets or on the June green
countryside? What are the sounds that
| fill her unused ears? The twittering of
baby birds, the bleating of baby lambs,
or the roar and clatter of the cabs or
omnibuses? Dwells she in this land at
all, this dear, interviewer English land !?
Why, remind myself, | know not even
her nationality.
And of what nature is her residence
As the children say does she inhabit
palace, mansion, cottage, pigsty, barn?"
Surely the jingle has it's lapses. 1t is
something smaller than a mansion, larger
than a cottage, / would wish her. Are
they both not somewhat cramping? May
my sons wife come from the home that
is nobly middle-class! But be she pau
per or princess. / will not caviI. In
memory of that other babe born in the
stable, that other babe wofshiped of
princes, welcome the daughters in law
of the palace, of the barn.
Yet these things are but trifes. I, too,
am the worldly mother. For, princess
or pauper, / would have my sons wife
well born. | would have her forebears
people of honor, of refinement. l would
have this, although know that each new
generation brings a new opportunity.
Humanity is a compound and not mix
ture. The elements fused together yield
an issue strange and unaccountable
While there is life there is surely hope!
And yet-and veto little unknown
daughter n-law, may you have been dis
Greet in your choice of parents! May
you, at least, have found mother who
loves you; indeed, it is the common,
foolish wont of mothers. May you have
found father who is a gentleman to
you, whate'er he be called otherwise!
But the little girl in her cradle has al
ready arranged her past Blameless or
sinful, it is already there. What use is
it for me to speculate? What use is it
for me to think of her at all? [ trow
she never thinks of me. She never thinks
of her possessions that l guard so care
fully; the silver tea service at the bank
in its soft tissue wrappings; the family's
sole diamond ring. She does not think
of such things; she does not care Yet
could l show them to her, she would
gllrge joyously. In her baby eyes their
shine and sparkle would seem fair.
And perchance when she doth realize
her treasures she will no longer prize
them. For my sons wife may be an
artist, deeming crude valuables distinc-
tive of the loathed Philistine; or a
learned lady despising gauds and bau-
bles; or a little socialist. happily GER
tain that in universal earthenware lies
the cure of human i'll. Yes; methinks
my sons wife will be socialist. Daueh-
law, / will respect your scruples;
| will admire your noble discomfort. You
shall melt the silver tea service; YOU
shall sell it, and print therefrom PAM
phlets, many pamphlets, to reform the
wicked plutocrat.
But although my sons wife may deem
silver teapots worthless, although she
may consider pearls more fifty cast be-
fore swine, yet there is one possession
/ am guarding that she will hold very
precious, one belonging that awaits her
for which she will surely care.
Then, it is of this that 1 shall tell
her, this one thing of Importance I
prate of silver services when should
describe my son. Tall see him for his
years, his two years, as he plays on the
sward before me; tall and exceedingly
sturdy. His eyes are brown, but his
hair curls goldenly. little girl, are you
not glad with me that his hair curls
goldenly?) Strong he is, and merry
When he hurts himself he cries but sell
dom. Rarely is he vexed What else
is there to tell about him? All, see, he
runs towards me with his arms out
stretched. Very loving to his mother
is this little son of mine.
But perchance my unknown daughter
in-law will feel that filial piety concerns
her not. Perchance she may resent it.
And yet it is desirable quality. All
the things that [ have told her are de-
sirable qualities; they should tend to
make a happy wife. For two years this
son hath brought his mother more hap
piness than she had ever known. Is it
not, then, probable that he will one day
bring joy unto his wife? Little daugh-
ter-in-law, pray that my son may give
to you as great peace, as great COM
fort as he hath given me. / pray, al
though in truth the prayer is more for
my sons sake than for yours, since you
are yet a stranger to me-Oh, may my
son come unto his wife as unspotted as
he came to me. May he be pure in heart
when he enters upon his second birth,
the birth of the new dual life! May he
always, and whate'er befall him, never
cease in seeing God!
But my sons wife, fer her part, what
will she be like? Little girl in your
cradle, you must remember your part
You, too, must grow up brave and
straight and strong Into your keeping
| give my sons future You must grow
up worthy to be his wife. Alas! the
words are empty, for you do not know
him. You do not know your fate. Grow
up, then, 0 little girl, worthy to be
yourself. Grow up, for | can ask no
more, worthy to be new woman.
For, amid all the uncertainties, there
is one thing that is certain My sons