ematurely old, and much of this deterioration was
caused by all sorts of drudgery to help her boy to pay his college
expenses.

I have seen other college men whose mothers had made similar
sacrifices, and who were ashamed to have them attend their graduating
exercises, ashamed to introduce them to their classmates.

Think of the humiliation and suffering of the slave mother, who has
given all the best of her life to a large family, battling with poverty
in her efforts to dignify her little home, and to give her children an
education, when she realizes that she is losing ground intellectually,
yet has no time or strength for reading, or self-culture, no
opportunity for broadening her mental outlook by traveling or mingling
with the world! But this is nothing compared to the anguish she
endures, when, after the flower of her youth is gone and there is
nothing left of her but the ashes of a burned-out existence, the shreds
of a former superb womanhood, she awakes to the consciousness that her
children are ashamed of her ignorance and desire to keep her in the
background.

From babyhood children should be taught to look up to, not down on
their mother. For that reason she should never appear before them in
slovenly raiment, nor conduct herself in any way that would lessen
their respect. She should keep up her intellectual culture that they
may not advance beyond her understanding and sympathies.

No matter how callous or ungrateful a son may be, no matter how low he
may sink in vice or crime, he is always sure of his mother's love,
always sure of one who will follow him even to his grave, if she is
alive and can get there; of one who will cling to him when all others
have fled.

It is forever true, as Kipling poignantly expresses it in his beautiful
verses on "Mother Love":

"'If I were hanged on highest hill,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!
I know whose love would follow still,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!

"'If I were drowned in the deepest sea,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!
I know whose tears would come down to me,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!

"'If I were cursed of body and soul,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!
I know whose prayer's would make me whole!
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!'"

One of the saddest sights I have ever seen was that of a poor, old,
broken-down mother, whose life had been poured into her children,
making a long journey to