Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1912-10-05

at the bottom Of the sea.
The Prince married the beautiful
Totoya, and they lived together in the
Sea Kings palace. Happiness was
theirs all their days.
His Mothers
' Apron Strings
They were never taut, unless, when
he was a little boy, he used them as
thongs to bind her as the white cap
tive" when they played Indian" In
deed, his mother was sometimes critt-
cised because she held them too slack,
leaving the little fellow to his own
devices. Her fear that, when the
house of freedom struck, he might
slash and toss them away in the Joy
Of independence had Influenced her to
give him a share of that independence
as the childish years melted into youth
and youth approached manhood. "You
are spelling him." folks said, but her
instinct was her safe guide. The boy
might be restrained by love. but not
by bonds which by and by he could
break.
So the years sped, and the friendship
between mother and son strengthened,
and the ties that bound them to each
other held firmer as life hurried on.
He had not been given to her by birth,
though his baby head had rested on
her breast; but the dear mother who
bore him and died could not have
loved him more.
People said,-pocr people who did not
know the joys of adoption on both SIDES
How queer that he should still be
tied to her apron-strings! They did
not say which was the slave. because
really there seemed no compulslon
either way, the strings were so slack,
It was always the same, when ne
was at school in France (send1ng her
a postal card every day., or at boarding
school in his own land; in the pubnc
high school, or at college; IN the
university, or away in the forest and
among the mountains busy with gov.
eminent duties, the bonds that held
mother and son together were lightly
worn, yet through them ran an eiectrlc
cord that pulsed as 1t felt the neart-
beats of the two.
The mother was twoscore when the
baby boy came into her arms. she IS
now nearly threescore and ten. Inc
Psalmist's limit stands in full sight
of her still undated vision. The son
is in the prime Of his strength. saw
them the other day as passed through
Canada. Which one had gathered up
the apron-strings and drawn the other
T could not tell, but here they were,
one coming from the south and one
from the east, for ten days of Indian
summer in northern lake. &C
cepted their hospitality and saw the
comradeship between them.
A log cabin with an open fire was
their shelter. The surrounding hills
were cleaning with frost. and the
mountainous were hooded with snow;
but the sun smiled on the wintry land.
scape as the fire in the cabin cheereo
the hearth. Life in this little camp
was at its simplest. A farm mile
away supplied milk, butter. eggs, and
honey, and "a neglected garden still
held potatoes, beets, carrots. ana
onions, all to be roasted in the not
cinders and ashes, while shivering
cabbage yielded up its heart for a
salad. Biscuits Drowned before the
fire and. drenched with cream and
maple syrup, made the "guiltless
FEAST as Goldsmith's hermit calls it.,
surpass those described by Latin poets.
Agateware dishes, washed and wiped
in companionship by mother and son,
matched the homely fare. Ticks MI
led with oat straw, with heavy blank
cts, furnished the beds, whose only
luxury consisted of white-covered
pillows.
Peace reigned within and without.
No human sound reached the cabin
hidden J., the woods. The wild things
draw near unafraid, for no gun would
brighten them thence. Looms ana
ducks FLASHED in the cold water OF the
lake. Wild geese honked their way
southwark in a great "V'' overhead.
In the cedar-bush cartridges were
feeding, while robins. chickadees. blue
laws. and crows were rejoicing in the
prolonged Indian summer, and bear
and deer were not far off in the denser
wood
7 came upon mother and son unex-
rectedly as I. walked over the hills.
The sound of saving drew me down to
pretty growth of young pines. They
were trimming up the trees. The
mother would saw off the branches
within her reach-which would not be
very high up-and the taller. stronger
sawyer would take the upper limbs.
It was picture one does not see every
day. The beautiful trees will remem'
Der it as they spread out their arms
to wider air and sunlight
Another day l found them, one on
each side of a fallen ash, which,
stroke by stroke. they were cutting
up into fireplace lengths with a great
cross-cut saw, while the wind played
through the gray locks of the one
and over the curly pate Of the other
When next l saw them, they were
far out on the lake in a canoe, each
with a paddle, and I heard a cautious
old man, who was collecting eggs for
the fish-hatcheries, sing out to her
"Ain't We afeard to be out in a
canoe in winter?' and I heard her
quick response, tinged with pride
mot when / am with my SON. The
MI ton chrlpk or