How sad the
picture!
A BRIGHTER VIEW.
I have seen a parent toil for years, carrying to his cottage the wages
which should support his son in seven long years of careful education. I
have watched that son in his ceaseless studies and found he thought only
of gladdening his father's heart. I have seen him graduate second in a
class of one hundred and fifteen, and then after two years of additional
study, first in a body of eighty young men, each of whom was a scholar.
The best men of a great city have given that young man encouragement.
Their homes and their wives and their daughters have smiled at his
approach, and his course has been upward without a fall, and with few
pauses for rest. Has he forgotten his poor father? No. He still lives
in the cottage, and will make the small house with a great man in it
more hospitable and more honorable than a wide door that swings open to
a narrow soul. How pleasant the picture!
[Illustration]
MOTHER.
A mother is a mother still,
The holiest thing alive.--Coleridge.
Not learned save in gracious household ways,
Not perfect, nay, but full of tender wants,
No angel, but a dearer being, all dipt
In angel instincts, breathing Paradise.
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