- casion when he was thrown into prison, because
some passages in the comedy of "Eastward Ho!" gave offense to King James, and he was in danger of a horrible death, after having his ears and nose cut off. He tells us how, after his pardon, he was banqueting with his friends, when his "old mother" came in and showed a paper full of "lusty strong poison," which she intended to mix with his drink just before the execution. And to show that she "was no churl," she intended first to drink of the poison herself. The incident is all the more suggestive from the fact that Chapman and Marston, one his friend and the other his enemy, were first cast into prison as the authors of "Eastward Ho!" and rough Ben Jonson at once declared that he too had had a small hand in the writing and went to join them in prison.—William J. Long, English Literature.
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Mother, A Heart Broken—See Juvenile Court Experience.
Mother, A Reminder of—See Reminders.
Mother Caution—See Reasoning Power
in Animals.
MOTHER INSTINCT
A cow's melancholy over the loss of her
calf led to a strange incident at the home
of Josiah Brown, near Mount Carmel.
Brown owned a cow with a spotted calf which was so peculiarly marked that some time ago, when it was killed for veal, the skin was made into a rug. The mother cow was downcast and bellowed continually.
Mrs. Brown went into her front parlor, and there on the floor lay the cow, placidly licking the calfskin rug. It is supposed the cow approached the house and by chance saw the calfskin through the window, then quietly pushed the doors open and walked in. One barred door had been forced open by the cow's horns.—Boston Journal.
(2104)
MOTHER LOVE
Not long ago a woman fifty years old
went to a teacher in School No. 2, and with
tears in her eyes, begged permission to sit
down with the little ones five to six years old,
that she might learn to read and write. She
explained that she had two boys in the
West, and desired to learn her letters that
she might be able to communicate with them.
Her daughter had done this for her, but
three years ago the daughter died, and now
the hungry-hearted mother was willing to
make any sacrifice to keep in touch with her
sons. So she entered school without telling
any one, even her husband. Four weeks
from the day she entered she was able to
read through the primer, first reader, and
almost through the second. Now she can
write so any one can easily read every word.
She learns ten new words at home every day,
and always knows her lesson perfectly. She
has learned to begin and end a letter, and
it will not be long before she can write a
love-letter—a genuine mother love-letter—to
her boys. Through the goodness of my
friend, I have in my possession a yellow
sheet of paper containing one of her writing
exercises. Reading between the lines, there
is something inexpressibly touching about it.
The words are such as may be found in the
copybook of any schoolboy, but the mother,
with her hard hands and tender heart, as
she copied the words imagined herself writing
a letter to one of her sons. After writing
her address and the date, this imaginary
epistle, brimming with a real love, reads: "My
dear son Hugh:
Be the matter what it may,
Always speak the truth.
If at work or if at play,
Always speak the truth."
Surely there is no ordinary clay in this vessel! She may not be able to understand the plan of her soul's divine Potter, but a brave trust and a high hope reside at the center of her being.—F. F. Shannon.
(2105)
One calm, bright, sweet, sunshiny day an angel stole out of heaven and came down to this old world, and roamed field and forest, city and hamlet; and just as the sun went down he plumed his wings and said: "Now my visit is out, and I must go back to the world of light, but before I go I must gather some mementos of my visit here"; and he looked over into a beautiful flower-garden and said, "How lovely and fragrant these flowers are," and he plucked the rarest roses, and made a bouquet, and said, "I see nothing more beautiful and fragrant than these; I will take them with me." But he looked a little farther and there saw a little bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked babe, smiling into its mother's face, and he said, "Oh, that baby's smile is prettier than this bouquet; I will take that, too." Then he looked just beyond the cradle, and there was a mother's love pouring out like the gush of a river,
