p. 190 | MOTHERS OF OUR OWN by Annie A. Preston

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Apr 21, 1881

"MOTHERS OF OUR OWN."

By Annie A. Preston

In a family where I was visiting recently, a lively little discussion followed the reading aloud of a bright editorial from one of the household newspapers upon "Mother Worship in India." After some learned talk about the hundred and forty distinct "Mothers," local deities, in Gujerat alone, which the Brahmins declare to be different forms of Siva's consort, the conversation naturally took a more practical turn as to mothers in general.

A great many different views were expressed as to how far men's lives were really shaped by a mother's influence, and whether, after all, "mother worship" was not really the most natural form of adoration for heathen people to fall into.

"I have seen a good deal of the world," said a fine looking, middle-aged man, from the far West, who was spending a few weeks at his old New England home, "and I have found that most men have tucked away, in some cases down in the most remote corner of their hearts it may be, a great tenderness for mother.

"I remember, when I first went to Indiana, as a clerk in one of the offices of the Wabash Railroad, that John Carpenter, the paymaster, to whom I had letters of introduction, sent me to board with a certain widow who was trying to gain a living for herself, and to educate her children, by taking railroad boarders.

"'Mrs. Griswold's husband was killed on our road while on duty as an engineer,' said Mr. Carpenter, as he walked with me across the depot platform. 'She has taken that large, frame house which you see yonder on the corner, and has gone to keeping boarders. She is a good hearted, worthy woman, and we are all anxious to have her succeed. But it is new business for her, and I can see that she already looks tired and discouraged. Perhaps our boys worry her some,' added the paymaster, in his kindly way. 'Tell her you are one of our new men from the East, and that I sent you, and she will make you comfortable, I know.'

"I was an entire stranger in the place and to all the railroad boys, and was homesick enough, as, carpet-bag in hand, I trudged down the muddy street of the mushroom Western city, and presented myself before good Mrs. Griswold. She at once ushered me into the dining-room, and gave me a general introduction to the dozen or fifteen young fellows seated about the supper-table. They were good looking, tidily dressed chaps, some of them Eastern boys, more or less homesick, and all of them seemingly bent upon having all the fun they could get out of anything that came along.

"They gave me a cordial greeting, rather to uproarious, however, I thought; and in a very brief space I was one of them, seated familiarly at the well stocked table, and answering their many questions. Presently Ed. Slate said to me, 'This is just the gayest old place to board at that we have ever struck. You see there is no man of the house, and we boys run the shebang to suit ourselves, and just about drive the old lady out of her wits sometimes.'

"'Look here, Tyler, it's your turn to drink up the tea milk to-night, and call for more,' continued Slate. 'And Benjamin, it's your turn to eat up the sugar. You see we make it a point to clear the table at every meal [to me]. Here, Jim, empty the salt-cellar into your pocket, and sing out for more horseradish, which you know she hasn't got.'

"'We always eat horseradish on jelly-cake where I came from,' said Jim, very solemnly, to Mrs. Griswold, when she came in with regrets that there was none in the house, and promised to order some at once. She soon brought in a new supply of milk and sugar and salt, together with a bottle of catsup which Slate straightway poured into a bowl of crackers and milk, and began to eat, to the great bewilderment of the poor widow, who was evidently wondering what would be called for next.

"As I glanced up to Mrs. Griswold's sad, worn face and black dress, I thought of my own widowed mother in our little home far away among the hills of New England, and on whose account, that her comforts might increase as she grew older, I had migrated hither, and wondered what she would do with such a rough, thoughtless set of boarders to manage.

"At last, while Mrs. Griswold was tidying the cloth near my plate, for I was a late comer at the table, and while I was trying to repress my laughter at the drollery that was still going on around me, I said to her kindly, 'I am well supplied now, thank you; I won't trouble you any farther.'

"While thus speaking to her, and before the dining-room door had closed behind her, I had made up my mind to remonstrate, in as unassuming and sensible way as I could, with my new fellow-boarders as to their thoughtless, and almost cruel treatment of our kind-hearted boarding-mistress. I thought I had better do it here and now while my presence was a novelty to the boys.

"As I glanced around the table, I saw that they were all silently regarding me, and evidently expecting that I would now introduce some new piece of mischief. For a moment my heart failed me, but as my own mother rose again in my mind, I gained courage to say pleasantly, 'Now, boys, it's too bad to treat that poor woman in this shabby, unmanly way. Her grief for the loss of her husband, coupled with the hard necessity upon her to start out for the first time in her life to earn her own and her children's living, is trouble enough for her to shoulder at once without being bothered and made game of by her boarders. Besides, such rude conduct is beneath those who are called men. You know there isn't one of you who would hesitate to knock a fellow down who should undertake to insult your own mother as you seem to be in the habit of insulting that poor widow. You don't mean such carryings on as real insults, I know, boys, but they are nothing else, after all. Now, are they?'

"'Well and bravely said,' spoke up Ed. Slate, who had been the ring-leader in the mischief. 'I myself was thinking, when I went out from dinner this noon, that if we boys went on like this, day after day, it wouldn't be long before we should be unfit to mingle in civilized society, to say nothing of our unfitness to associate with any true woman. We can have fun enough among ourselves outside, and for that matter, right here in the house, provided it is decent, and wounds no one.'

"'What Slate says is only right,' said Ned Clayton, one of the more quiet of the boarders. 'I like fun myself as well as any one, but often and often I have thought that we were carrying this thing too far. Mrs. Griswold is not the person to complain, but I do not think that any of us could fail to see how much hurt she has been at times. Now, boys, let's all own up that we have carried this rough play far enough, and let's stop it right here.'

"'Let's call our boarding house here "The Eastern Boys' Homie,"' said Dwight Dorman, who, not long since, had left an orderly, Christian home in Connecticut, 'and all try and see how much like our own Eastern homes we can make it. Don't let's say a word, but keep mum, and surprise the good widow with the new order of things.'

"Mother Griswold, as we soon fell into the way of calling her, was indeed surprised by our changed demeanor and quiet ways. She was surprised, too, to see how handy and obliging we made ourselves by giving a lift now and then to some of the heavy work about the house. Did one of us chance to notice an empty water-pail or an empty coal-hod, they were straightway filled. Did we happen to see that her stock of kindlings in the basement was out, when down there blacking our boots, we would presently fall to the pleasant task of splitting up a good supply.

"We got into the habit also of calling at the post-office, and doing other errands for her on our way to and from our depot, shops, and offices. But what pleased Mother Griswold more than all was to see us fix up, when Sunday came, and accompany her to church. We had observed the walk and talk of this church-going Christian woman, and we not only voted that we would be decent and go to church, but that we would insist that our Sunday dinners should wait until afternoon, so that she could remain to the Sunday-school, in which, notwithstanding her many home duties, she had a class of young men, composed largely of us, her former rough, Sabbath-desecrating boarders.

"We were amply repaid for our kindness to her, for in sickness or in health she sought our every comfort, and was a mother to us indeed. One day, nearly a year after this new order of things had been brought about, she said to us, 'You young men now seem as if you were my own sons; but I must tell you that at first I thought you to be the most ill-bred boys I ever saw. I was on the point of giving up the house when something—I really don't know what did happen.'

"'We all happened to think that we have mothers of our own, Mother Griswold,' said I, and that was all she knew about it."—Mrs. Annie A. Preston, in S. S. Times.