Gilpin observer., 1920-07-01

| hoou u cnter. 1ne neaVy OOOrS swung
to and shut out the turmoil Of the
streets; but 1t was not lonely. A for
lorn young mother-to-be I knelt and
said my childish prayers thar came
from heart perilously near q WON.
ans.
Thereafter went whenever I
deemed 1t wise and always l drew
nearer the great painting on the left.
She was a mother too, even as would
be. on her arm joyous babe with dark
| eyes and hair. knelt and sat by turns
through the long afternoons. in my
heart dumb ache which was my
wordless prayer that my child would be,
this child and not like his father.
One evening when came home my
husband was there ahead of me.
"Where have you been, you huzzy?"
he purred softly. and l waited for the
blow to follow. 'Trapesing the streets
like common jade. I'll warrant"
He seized my by the arm and flung
me into the kitchen. was strangely
oblivious to his threats and his blows
and, as he advanced meaacingly to-
ward me, raised my eyes-in them
the consciousness that, beat me, mis-
use me as he would, there was that
within me he could neither touch nor
defile-my soul 1t now looked out at
him with the fearless courage of all
that was before me.
He stood rooted to the spot with
upraised hand. and SO kept him for
fully minute. Then I walked from
ha Lea 1t
as best he could. He never wantonly
struck me again.
Then. that gray hour before dawn.
when to the breast of one helpless
child there clung anotherl
"Is he fair or dark2" / asked the
woman who in her charity had come
to me.
Dark like his mother" she an
swered, land that's as 1t should be-
the boy like his mother and the girl
God forbid" I heard her say as she
turned aside.
My prayer had been answered.
After the baby's birth my husband
rarely came home. When he did, II
was with stealthy step and shifty eye.
He no longer jingled his coins He did
not return to his former treatment of
me, so l paid no attention to him. He
gave me barely enough to subsist on;
but was happy. My child kicked and
crowed the whole day long.
was startled one morning by a
piercing scream, which terminated the
soft cooling that betokened his con-
tentment. In alarm I rushed to the
kitchen. His father had slipped in
and was bending over him. On the in.
stant was the woman and the mother
supreme in her hate and her love. 1
flew at this nameless creature like a
hungry tigress and buried my fingers
deep into his neck. Then ! shook him
as 1 would a rag until his face was
purple and his glass eye popped out on
the floor and crashed to million
pieces. When we came opposite the
open door l flung him into the stair
case. In that moment knew the gIut
| of power l closed the door, and 1t
was thirty years before 1 saw him
again.
took my babe in my arms and
| crooned to him and hushed his cries.
So took him on my breast and faced
the world. l worked and struggled.
| Sometimes l was hungry. always ]
was weary. daunted never Thus 1t is
child persists and wins. Today l am
the mother of the world-famed sculptor
whom have called Refugio Escandido
He loves me, has always loved me. and
l am proud and happy mother.
Yet how account for his talent? I
used to tell myself that it was my in
tense love for the mountains, with
| their crags, their SHOWS, and their
pines; those long afternoons spent In
contemplation of the mother and her
baby, my struggles and my hopes.
They helped. but the answer was not
there.
Last summer visited with some
friends western penitentIary. With
| something of the instinct that years
before had drawn my tear-dimmed
| eyes to my mothers face, / lowered
my veil rs we came on nm old man in
corner of the workshop. He was
intent modelling from clay grotesque
and hideOus shapes of men and birds
and beasts, creatures of his diseased
Imagination. A slight chill passed
| over me.
"Who is he7" whispered.
| "One Of the cleverest counterfeiters
that ever used n die" said the warden.
| "He's served II term In almost every
stnte In the Union. This. however, will
be his last-his mind and health are
shattered. His speciality was making
twenty dollar gold pieces. Restrained
by prison life from making them. he
models these queer things-no two Of
them alike. You wouldn't care for
One?"
NO" I shuddered.
His hands are never Idle. Born