The Ellensburg dawn. [volume] (Ellensburg, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1910-03-03

RpWIl uIJoII anu DCllb tliNii WI mo
and the SHOWS of accumulated VIII
tcrS Whiten their heads, many an
one who knew her in their Young
CT life will still pronounce the
name of c., ina Yocum with
lingering love and filial reverence.
And thus she lived and thus she
died. Born in the bright New
Years dawn of 1881; died just as
he assembling shades were tuning
for the requiem of the year 1909
We are wont to hope and to be
Ieve that her departing
spirit caught not the strains of that
requiem, but instead was lulled by
the Jingle of Christmas melody and
in the embrace of that swelling
symphony was borne away from
its tenement of clay towards the
IJCtll ~ llOIS lIlo vi ITO OlCl llcll iD)dS
70 live as She did live, to per
form as she did perform. to fulfill
the arduons duties Of wife and
motherhood It's enough to raise
monument of glory above the hum
tlcst grave.
The Chastc marble with magic
hand has been fashioned, the paint
cr 5 art has been fatigued, the min
strels genius has been exercised
in illustration of heroic deeds of
men upon the field of battle and
their achievements in the forum
and the senate, and pyramids and
mosoleums have been builded to
commemorate and perpetuate their
glory; but no monument of bronze,
no monOlith of marble, illustrates
the sanctity and terrestrial glory of
the motherhood of men. Heroes
and laW-giVers dazzle the world
with their achievements and their
final resting places, marked with
eXtravagant creations OF genius,
became Meccas for pilgrimages of
devotion for future generations
unto the utmost reaches of all
time. but the mothers of those his
toric personagcs sleep is unknown,
and forgotten graves
Oh Motherl chastest, suhlimest,
divinest word that was ever coined
Around Thee circle what fond,
what tender, what inspiring mem
cries Without Thee, language
would be dull and dead as ashes.
Mother Who will presume to
illustrate her exalted station?
Who will presume to produce an
adequate monument to her glory?
The attempt is vanity. The hand
of a phidias falls palsied at his
side. The cunning vanishes from
the brush of ZeuXsis. The lips |
of a Homer are dumb.
Genius pauses to ask the momen-
tous question. From the contem-
platiOn of what fair GODDESS, coe-
val with Himself, did the great
Creator receive inspiration to con
Ceive and to create woman form,
so copiouslv endowed with divine
attributes chastity; love, kind
ness, tenderness, forgiveness,
charity, SYMPATHY mercy, fidelity
modesty. and beauty, and give her
to the world to become the COM
panion aud mother of man? She
came commissioned to follow him
far into the dark shadows, and to
gently lead him away from the
idols of his passions, his avarice,
his lnsts, and turn his face towards
God.
The temples of her worship are
not of marble or bronz or brass,
but of the human heart that throbs
with the warm, rushing blood of
life, and in through them her glory
will ultimately shine in the re-
deemed and bettered citizenship
and civilization of the world. And
in that lustrum of glory every de-
voted mother of man will have a
place.
The great Oregon poet has made
us debtor to a tribute in language
that can never fade: