The Greeneville daily sun. (Greeneville, Tenn.) 1918-1920, 1919-06-14
Two Mothers
Why Is So Little Attention
Given to Mothers Through
out the World?

] -
ionable art stores of New York thu
writer recently saw a painting which
attracted constant crowd.
The title of the picture is, Of
might be, "The Mother of th'
West"
In the middle foreground, sitting
beside pool of water, is the figur,
of an Indian mother, and by her side
on his back, his feet in the air anC
his little body full of action, lies {
baby son.
Stolid and expressionless as ar
Indian countenance is supposed to be
the face of this untutored woman il
lighted with the joy of motherhood
and on it is the smile that has beer
the charm Of hundreds of paintings
of the Madonna from the brushes OF
the old masters.
The background of the painting
is vivid with colors of the desert and
the brilliancy of light and shade that
nature best pictures where she has
been least disturbed by civilization
Melting almost perceptibly into
the far distant horizon and sky is 9
figure Of Him who has been most
often painted in child life and who
never forgetting the littlest ones
said: "Suffer little children to come
unto me-; for of such is the kingdom
of heaven"
Whatever may be the artistic mer-
it's Of the painting and whatever may
be the price, and undoubtedly it is
somewhere in thousands, to the many
who look at it daily it is picture of
motherhood, an expression of love
and devotion, a visualizing of the
nearest to divine passion that hui
mainly ever re; ches.
An hour after the writer had seen
the painting he saw another picture.
But in this second one the figures
were living.
The background was the dirty
brick wall Of brick house which had
seen much better days.
Just off the sidewalk stood street
photographer. With a curious can
uon-shaped contrivance, which SEEM
ed to combine in its insides all the re-
quirements of both the camera and a
dark room, he was making ready to
take the picture on an Italian woman
and her baby.
The little one lacked the life and
animation of his brother on the paint
ed canvas.
His face was pinched and pale, and
his haf-closed eyes had little of the
sparkle that tells of health and hap
piness.
The mother as she prepared for the
nicture man pulled the soiled hood
from around the baby's face and
seemed to be trying to rouse it from
its lethargy.
She kissed it, and as the photogra-
pher said Ready" she looked at the
little one with tenderness that was
not all pity, for there was pride and
axultation pictured in her face, as if
to say, "There is no prettier, sweeter.
dearer son than NINE"
With many motions and much talk
of the ments which he said the pic
ture was sure to possess, the photog-
rapher went through the process
which resulted in a tintype which he
placed in paper holder, which
served also as a frame, and handed
it to the mother,
That it pleased her it was plain
That it looked to her like her baby
was evident from her nod of appro-
val as she compared it with the orig
jnal.
She undoubtedly said to herself,
Not so pretty as he is, but it will
To-" And she paid the artist of the
street and went away.
We wonder whether when the boy
grows up he will ever look so loving
y upon picture of his mother as
he looked on his.
We wonder if he will say, "There
lever was sweeter, dearer mother
han mine"
He will never know how lovingly
he looked upon his frail and unat-
ractive body, nor how proud she was
o pose with him in her arms.
There are very few of us, whether
We are children of the desert or sons
+ the city, that realize how much
We were to our mothers; what they
ore that we might live; what anxi-
ties they suffered for our sakes, and
ow deeply our happiness and we'll
eing weighed upon their hearts.
The world thinks much too little of
S Washington Times.
"What is that?" asked the con.
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