Year: 1870

freshly in my newest white dress, and
went away up stairs where could be un-
disturbed. 1 had written two verses, and
was deeply in the enjoyment of the COM
ing poem, "The Meadow PATH" when 1
heard a great commotion, and squalling
and fluttoring among the geese, and going
down stairs the cause was apparent.


Mother met me at the gate in such out
landish attire that did not know her. She
wore dingy old flannel dress, her neck
bundled up with a cotton shawl, and a
handkerchief tied around her head so as 10
cover her ears and hair.


She said the geese were all at home now,
and she was afraid Of rain, and thought
we'd better pick them that afternoon. 1
couldn't write verses only when the poet
ical mood was upon me, and 1 didn't
kTow when that would be again, and was
- sorely disappointed cried.


7 s.Sne saw my red eyes, and divining the
reason, said, "Oh, you'll have to drop a
good many of your fine lady ways if you
make farmers wife,"


So l dressed up after the fashion of wo-
men who pick geese, and worried through
as long an afternoon as l ever lived. My
head ached and my poor arms were bitten
over with blue spots, and l was so tired
and low-spirited that could hardly keep
from crying right before John.


Some time in the night 1 was awakened
by low moaning sound coming from moth
ors room. threw shawl over my shoul-
ders and softly drew near her bed, when l
heard her suppressed cries of pain. l said,
"Are you sick, motherp"


SIS that you, Chatty2" she replied, with
a sense of relief in her tones, "dont let
me disturb you-you are tired and need
your sleep. Oh, my body and limbs are
all cramped and cold, but maybe I'll get
warm pretty soon, and feel better. Go to
your bed, and don't let me disturb you"


1 laid my hand on her forehead, and it
was cold and clammy, and big drops of
sweat stood upon it. l soon heated water
and made teas, and had her wrapped in
warm flannel, and before half an hour she
was comfortable. As she became easy, she
closed her eyes and was sinking into a
restful slumber, when 1 touched my lips
in blessing upon her forehead.


"Oh, Chatty, child of mine," she said,
crying right out, 81 never have been half
good enough to you. l should not have
taken you from your writing to-day; you
little tender thing, what pity you fell into
such cruel handsr'


l slid my arm around her neck, and
gathered her to my bosom, and cried over
the dear old broken down mother-the wo-
man of many sorrows, stricken when in
full leaf and blossom with blight that
would have been death to any other less
brave, and noble, and true.


crept into the bed beside her, and just
as she was sinking into sweet and pain
less sleep, her tremulous voice said, "Chat-
ty don't never tell ii. but it is the truth,
neeer did one of my daughters come to me
! in answer to my modns of distress >s.hen I
-Nas sick at night. vAs.at was itT (,idn't
they love me as much as you dc? p"
Isoothel her by saying I had always
been the little nruse and doctor at home,
and my ear was open to catch every cry OF
pain. 1t calmed her and she rested until
morning


Little things like this drew us together
and we soon became warmly attached tC
each other. oh, we had pleasant times to-
gether-my mother-in-law and l.
When wee baby Charlie came TO me, thu
little pink and white flower. his granC
mother opened her arms to him as though
he was n great blessing sent to her from
heaven. He touched her heart and filled i
with joys she had never known before
The fountains Of my own soul were open
ed, and life assumed new realities and new
beauties, and sweet song of gladnes
broke from my lips and flooded my soul.


Crowned with motherhood, | walked
with feet annointed, and the glory of tn
stars seemed to gather about my brow.


From the time that mother was attacked


with sickness in the night she seemed t


fail and to grow more and more lovely


she gradually faded from earth. She woul'


sit for hours and play with the baby, AM


laugh at his funny little ways, and thinl


that he looked just like her babies, who ha'


lain under the sod for twenty years.


1t is very pleasant to die thus-like


light growing DINNER and DINNER, lik


the sunset, that fading from the hill-top'


into a soft wilight-creeping into the dim


ness of darkness gradually.


The last summer we lived together W


had not much work to do, and look bac


now to that May and June and October a


would remember n song or poem, or boo


read by the seaside, or something that CAV


me sweet pleasure and left beautiful mem


ories.


Afler she was confined TO her bed sh


would lie and watch, and follow my foot


steps with a tender loving gaze-eyes fu
full of the light oflove, and often she woul


say to me, "Oh, Chatty, you are my be-
child l know I have been stern and cole


but you have always been the same dutfl
p-xlsI.,ter. You have overlooked my fault
Hana you have kept back the unkind repl


many time whom l was unjust to yol


You have helped to make me a better We
man than was, and for all this, you know
bless and love your


oh, how much better it was for me no
that had yielded my will and my wish,
to hers in the few years of my marie


life, and treated her respectfully, too,
the appointments Of her own household
What to me was the praise of my butterf
T friends now, in comparison to the good wi
! and earnest love of my husbands motho
1 Before mother died l was her nurse f
5 seven weeks she would have no other.
D gave her medicine and attended TO h
a wants, taking rest as best could. l cou
1 not have endured it much longer | W


worn, and pale, and thin, and felt all Il
[ time as If were dreaming.


/, One morning sat in the rocking cha
4 beside her; John held the baby rs he $
Q on the other side of the bed. Her han
was in mine-her little blue vened, vast
@ hand, on which was beautiful ring, 4


gift Of brother who had died away fro
z home.
Il She said in low voice, looking fond
=, upon me, "Chatty, you are so tired b
2 you will not have mother to care for
= night wish you would take off this ri
d and put II on your own hand, and wear
e for my sake. Whenever you look at ii, !
Is member what have often told you late