Norwich bulletin., 1910-03-26
(written for The Bulletin.)

All sorts of condolences come to me over my blazing wood fire. Only last night a pretty lady curled down on the | hearth rug, and, bit by bit, and not in | the least as though she meant to do l so, let the burden of her heart es- cape.
 to me that all I count for in life is being household convenience If should die, it would not be ma that would be missed, but only the things I Go."
 Her tone was so tragic that, to tighten the tension, I said laughingly, You make me think of what mother said to me when her only son first went away from home. l felt so sorry for her in her loneliness that I went to see her to tell her so- This is the way she answered me: Miss him? l should say did! Why, he took care of the furnace, and shovelled the snow, and ran errands for me-real1y, I don't
 know what I am going to do without
 him. I said goodbye, feeling that had wasted my sympathy. For you see, when my dear boy went away from home I missed him. He had been
 helpful too, but it was not that I
 cared about I missed his dear bright
 face, and his boyish laugh, and his af-
 in and out. I missed him at table, and
 by the reading lamp of evenings, I
 missed giving him his goodnight kiss,
 I missed him out of my life" We were both silent for a moment,
 then I said lightly, @So you, my dear
 foolish little lady. you really think you
 would be missed only for what you do.
 not for what you are?
 I'm convenient There is always
 something to be done for somebody,
 that nobody can do but me. I'm willing to do all these things. you understand.
 I love my dear ones so dearly that l
 a c1a f0 | Tor them. But often catch myself wish ing could feel sure that they love me for myself, just because am l."
 "They do, really,' I said. That
 mother idolized her boy, and was proud of him 1 knew it, even while she was
 If they do. wish they would show young brother, what a dear boy he is. and how we'll he Is doing in his studies? I love him dearly. and I'm proud of him, but -"
 There Is always a But" I con- mented. ..More's the pity."
 "But," she went on with emphasis, "I often feel that he is so far up in the clouds as to be utterly obliv1ous to anything on earth-incidentally his
 sister. He comes home at night so full of his own doings and interests
 that he will talk about them for an
 hour or more. I'm glad he does, and nSCeh WIIh Lnc deepest 1nIClt5t tO
 everything he has to say. Only do
 wish he would ask me about myself,
 what I am doing and what am in
 terested in. It is too one-sided. I long for some one who takes an interest in
 me. Besides, it is pleasant to be the
 talker, and not always the eternal listener. It makes me think of my mother" she said more gently. She
 was listener ali f1er life"
 And a comfort to everybody ada ed. Your mother was an inspiration to me"
 me tell you something. Once she con- fessed to me that often she longed for a friend who would listen to her as she listened to others. Not that she was a. weakling, to burden people with her troubles. My mother was one of the smiling ones-'
 Patient and courageous, cheerful and kind" said I. NO one ever called her a saint, probably because she was healthy and cheery and full of fun: