THE SOLDIER'S MOTHER
After all, there is no love like a mother's love. She loves her unborn babe with a tender, wistful, yearning love which makes the anguish of her sufferings a joy unspeakable. When the little one is placed in her arms exultant joy fills her heart. The wee baby rules this mother heart, and the growing child is her first thought in the morning hour and her last prayer as she rests her weary head upon her pillow. She is generally reticent and undemonstrative, but her boy is the joy of her heart and the gladness of her life. This wise and loving mother knows her boy must have companionships intimate and dear, and she does not interfere. Her boy becomes a man, and gradually he forms his circle of friendships, and as time goes on he is overwhelmed by the mystery and gladness of a great love. His mother understands, and with a tender light in her eyes she withdraws herself just a little more. Then comes the joy and bewilderment of the growing family and new chambers are unlocked in her "boy's" heart, but the mother, now growing old, understands, and there is no jealousy in her heart.
She sits alone much these days, but her memory is busy, and her heart holds a secret of that love which began before her boy was
