The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1914-05-07

/
and robbed him. and now he was
left with almost nothing. Sarah's
death had taken the heart out of
him. He had lost money in the
grocery business in Oregon after his
son left him, and now he had opened
harness shop in Los Angeles. He
sent his love to her and was looking
forward to the time when he could
take her home with him to end her
days among her own people.
The superintendent touched my
arm as | refolded the letter and /
followed his glance. Mrs. Wilson
had forgotten us and was sitting at
the window, her dim eyes close to
the glass. The superintendent placed
the letter back In her Bible and we
quietly withdrew.
She's the most patient and gentle
of creatures" he explained. She
never complains, and never gives up
hope that Jim will come for her.
Every Thanksgiving day for fifteen
years she has risen at the earliest
dawn, dressed up in her best gown,
and stationed herself at that window,
there to remain all day. She won't
go to her meals, just nibbles at what
bring her. When it grows too
dark for her to see anything more
she cries quietly for time, prays
and goes to bed The rest of the
year she's quite cheerful, never
gives any trouble. and never seems
to expect Jim. Everybody loves
her, particularly the mildly insane
inmates. They are devoted to her.
She has more influence over them
than l have.'
It's pitiful." l replied, and re-
allied the inadequacy of my words
to express the emotion aroused in
me by the picture of that lonely,
deserted mother waiting at the win
dow in vain for her boy to come
and take her home.
It's beautiful" said the superin-
tendent. Her faith in Jim's word
is unshakable."
We can only hope for miracle"
[ suggested. Perhaps some day.
before she dies, Jim Will come for
her-but it will have to be soon."
/ haven't dared tell her." said
Mr.. Burton, but Jim is back in this
county.-has been for nearly a year.
haven't seen bin. He can't get
up courage to come out and see his
mother. He knows that it would
break her heart for him to come and
not take her away. He has no place
to take her to. He's a broken man,
living with the wife his scapegrace
son deserted. | haven't the heart
to tell her.'
The Christmas Dance
The following Christmas night |
was at the farm again. Mr.. Burton
was giving a dance for the inmates.
nearly half of whom were mildly
insane. 1t was bizarrely funny,
despite the heartbreaking pltifulness
of it all; the very apotheosis of the
comedy of the tragic. Senile and
decrepit men and women trying to
assume again the mask of merriment;
the half witted and the mentally un-
balanced whirling about in the mazes
of a dance, with here anG there a
uniformed nurse or guard.
The music was furnished by an
orchestra of three; an insane girl at
the rickety piano, crazed negro
fddling away for dear life on what
had once been violin, and a man
without hands playing on mouth
organ. His right arm had been cut
off near the shoulder in a railway
accident; his left hand and wrist had
been offered up to the same modern
Moloch, and Lad been replaced by
a large iron hook. He held the
mouth organ in the crook of his left
arm, laid across the back of a chair,
which he straddled, bringing his
lips down to the instrument
The Christmas dance was a gala
occasion for the inmates. They were
seldom allowed anything of the sort,
because it proved too exciting to
the many unbalanced minds in the
institution, but they enjoyed this
Christmas dance to the utmost.
Men and women sixety and seven
ty years of age hobbled and skipped
and halted about. One young man
of fifty, with wooden leg. was the
spryest of them all. A little old
German woman caused much laugh
ter among the guests by going up TO
every strange man and asking him
to dance with her, kissing the hand
of each whether he accepted her
invitation or refused it.