ttle mother, whose frail body was worn from hard work and
wracked by the birth of eleven children, was before him the embodiment
of gentleness, spirit and faith. When he came from the hunt into the
door of that cabin home and hung his gun above the mantel, or came in
from the fields where the work was physical, he put from him all feeling
of the possession of strength. When he was with her, he was as gentle as
the mother herself.

She, too, wanted her son to live in such a way that he would not fear
any man. But she wanted his course through life to be over the path her
Bible pointed out, so that he would not have the impulse to do those
deeds that called for explanation or demanded apology.

From her he inherited those qualities of mind that gave him at all times
the full possession of himself. Her simple, home-made philosophy was
ever urging her boy to "think clear through" whatever proposition was
before him, and when in a situation where those around him were excited
"to slow down on what he was doing, and think fast." I have heard her
say:

"There hain't no good in gitting excited you can't do what you ought to
do."

She had not seen a railroad-train until she went to the capital of
Tennessee to the presentation of the medal of honor given her son by the
people of the state. She came upon the platform of the Tabernacle at
Nashville wearing the sunbonnet of stays she wore to church in the
"Valley of the Three Forks o' the Wolf." The Governor in greeting her,
lifted off the sunbonnet. His possession was momentary, for Mrs. York
recaptured it in true York style. Her smiling face and nodding head told
that the Governor had capitulated. It was pantomime, for the thousands
were on their feet waving to her and cheering her. Calm and still
smiling, she looked over the demonstration in the vast auditorium more
as a spectator than as the cause of the outburst of applause. Later, at
the reception at the Governor's mansion, guests gathered around her and
she held a levee that crowded one of the big drawing-rooms. Those who
sought to measure wit with her found her never at a loss for a reply,
and woven through her responses were many similes drawn from her
mountain life.

Under her proctorship the moral courage of her son had developed. In her
code of manhood there was no tolerance for infirmity of purpose, and
mental fear was as degrading and as disintegrating as physical
cowardice. He had been a man of the world in the