Mother

"All that I am or hope to be," said Lincoln, after he had become President, "I owe to my angel mother."

"All that I am or hope to be," Lincoln said after he became President, "I owe to my angel mother."

"My mother was the making of me," said Thomas Edison, recently. "She was so true, so sure of me; and I felt that I had some one to live for; some one I must not disappoint."

"My mother made me who I am," Thomas Edison said recently. "She was so loyal and believed in me so completely. I felt I had someone to live for, someone I must not disappoint."

"All that I have ever accomplished in life," declared Dwight L. Moody, the great evangelist, "I owe to my mother."

"Everything I have ever accomplished in life," said Dwight L. Moody, the great evangelist, "I owe to my mother."

"To the man who has had a good mother, all women are sacred for her sake," said Jean Paul Richter.

"To a man who has had a good mother, all women are sacred because of her," said Jean Paul Richter.

The testimony of great men in acknowledgment of the boundless debt they owe to their mothers would make a record stretching from the dawn of history to to-day. Few men, indeed, become great who do not owe their greatness to a mother's love and inspiration.

Great men have acknowledged their boundless debt to their mothers throughout history, from its beginnings to today. Indeed, few men become great without owing their greatness to a mother's love and inspiration.

How often we hear people in every walk of life say, "I never could have done this thing but for my mother. She believed in me, encouraged me when others saw nothing in me."

How often we hear people from all walks of life say, "I never could have done this without my mother. She believed in me and encouraged me when others saw nothing in me."

"A kiss from my mother made me a painter," said Benjamin West.

"A kiss from my mother made me a painter," said Benjamin West.

A distinguished man of to-day says: "I never could have reached my present position had I not known that my mother expected me to reach it. From a child she made me feel that this was the position she expected me to fill; and her faith spurred me on and gave me the power to attain it."

A distinguished man today says: "I could never have reached my present position without knowing that my mother expected me to reach it. From childhood, she made me feel that she expected me to hold this position. Her faith spurred me on and gave me the power to attain it."

Everything that a man has and is he owes to his mother. From her he gets health, brain, encouragement, moral character, and all his chances of success.

A man owes everything he has and everything he is to his mother. From her, he gets his health, intelligence, encouragement, moral character, and all his chances of success.

"In the shadow of every great man's fame walks his mother," says Dorothy Dix. "She has paid the price of his success. She went down into the Valley of the Shadow to give him life, and every day for years and years thereafter she toiled incessantly to push him on toward his goal.

"Behind every great man's fame stands his mother," says Dorothy Dix. "She has paid the price of his success. She risked her life to give him life. For years afterward, she worked tirelessly every day to push him toward his goal.

"She gave the labor of her hands for his support; she poured into him ambition when he grew discouraged; she supplemented his weakness with her strength; she filled him with her hope and faith when his own failed.

"She worked to support him. When he grew discouraged, she inspired him to keep striving. She made up for his weakness with her strength. When his hope and faith failed, she filled him with her own.

"At last he did the Big Thing, and people praised him, and acclaimed him, and nobody thought of the quiet, insignificant little woman in the background, who had been the real power behind the throne. Sometimes even the king himself forgets who was the kingmaker."

"At last he did the Big Thing, and people praised and applauded him. No one thought of the quiet, insignificant little woman in the background. She had been the real power behind the throne. Sometimes even the king himself forgets who made him king."

Many a man is enjoying a fame which is really due to a self-effacing, sacrificing mother. People hurrah for the governor, or mayor, or congressman, but the real secret of his success is often tucked away in that little unknown, unappreciated, unheralded mother. His education and his chance to rise may have been due to her sacrifices.

Many men enjoy fame that really belongs to their selfless, sacrificing mothers. People cheer for the governor, mayor, or congressman. But the real secret of his success is often his mother, who remains unknown, unappreciated, and overlooked. Her sacrifices may have given him an education and a chance to rise.

It is a strange fact that our mothers, the molders of the world, should get so little credit and should be so seldom mentioned among the world's achievers. The world sees only the successful son; the mother is but a round in the ladder upon which he has climbed. Her name or face is seldom seen in the papers; only her son is lauded and held up to our admiration. Yet it was that sweet, pathetic figure in the background that made his success possible.

It is strange that our mothers, who shape the world, get so little credit. They are rarely mentioned among the world’s achievers. The world sees only the successful son. His mother is merely a rung on the ladder he climbed. Her name or face rarely appears in the papers. Only her son is praised and held up for our admiration. Yet it was that sweet, touching figure in the background who made his success possible.

The woman who merits the greatest fame is the woman who gives a brilliant mind to the world. The mothers of great men and women deserve just as much honor as the great men and women themselves, and they will receive it from the better understanding of the coming days.

The woman who deserves the greatest fame is the one who gives a brilliant mind to the world. The mothers of great men and women deserve just as much honor as their children. As people come to understand this better, these mothers will receive that honor.

"A wife may do much toward polishing up a man and boosting him up the ladder, but unless his mother first gave him the intellect to scintillate and the muscles to climb with, the wife labors in vain," continues Dorothy Dix, in the Evening Journal.

“A wife can do much to polish a man and help him climb the ladder. But unless his mother first gave him the intellect to shine and the muscles to climb, his wife’s efforts are in vain,” continues Dorothy Dix, in the Evening Journal.

"You can not make a clod shine. You can not make a mollusk aspire. You must have the material to work with, to produce results.

"You cannot make a clod of dirt shine. You cannot make a mollusk aspire. To get results, you must have the right material to work with.

"By the time a man is married his character is formed, and he changes very little. His mother has made him; and no matter how hard she tries, there is very little that his wife can do toward altering him.

"By the time a man marries, his character is formed, and he changes very little. His mother has made him who he is. No matter how hard his wife tries, she can do very little to change him.

"It is not the philosophies, the theories, the code of ethics that a man acquires in his older years that really influence him. It is the things that he learned at his mother's knee, the principles that she instilled in him in his very cradle, the taste and habits that she formed, the strength and courage that she breathed into him.

"What really influences a man is not the philosophies, theories, or code of ethics he acquires later in life. It is what he learned at his mother's knee and the principles she taught him from infancy. It is the tastes and habits she formed in him, and the strength and courage she inspired in him.

"It is the childish impressions that count. It is the memory of whispered prayers, of bedtime stories, of old ideals held unfalteringly before a boy's gaze; it is half-forgotten songs, and dim visions of heroes that a mother taught her child to worship, that make the very warp and woof of the soul.

"Childhood impressions matter most. Memories of whispered prayers, bedtime stories, and ideals held steadily before a boy shape the very fabric of the soul. So do half-forgotten songs and dim visions of heroes a mother taught her child to admire.

"It is the pennies, that a mother teaches a boy to save and the self-denial that she inculcates in doing it, that form the real foundation of the fortune of the millionaire.

"The pennies a mother teaches a boy to save form the real foundation of a millionaire's fortune. So does the self-denial she teaches him in the process.

"It is the mother that loves books, and who gives her sons her love of learning, who bestows the great scholars, the writers, and orators, on the world.

"It is the mother who loves books and passes her love of learning to her sons who gives the world its great scholars, writers, and speakers.

"It is the mother that worships science, who turns the eyes of the child upon her breast up to the wonder of the stars, and who teaches the little toddler at her side to observe the marvel of beast, and bird, and flower, and all created things, whose sons become the great astronomers and naturalists, and biologists."

"The mother who loves science points out the wonder of the stars to the baby at her breast. She teaches the toddler at her side to observe the marvels of animals, birds, flowers, and all created things. It is her sons who become great astronomers, naturalists, and biologists."

The very atmosphere that radiates from and surrounds the mother is the inspiration and constitutes the holy of holies of family life.

The atmosphere that flows from and surrounds the mother inspires family life and forms its sacred heart.

"In my mother's presence," said a prominent man, "I become for the time transformed into another person."

"When I'm with my mother," said a prominent man, "I become a different person for a while."

How many of us have felt the truth of this statement! How ashamed we feel when we meet her eyes, that we have ever harbored an unholy thought, or dishonorable suggestion! It seems impossible to do wrong while under that magic influence. What revengeful plans, what thoughts of hatred and jealousy, have been scattered to the four winds while in the mother's presence! Her children go out from communion with her resolved to be better men, nobler women, truer citizens.

How many of us have felt the truth of this statement! When we meet her eyes, we feel ashamed of ever having had an unholy thought or a dishonorable impulse! It seems impossible to do wrong under her magical influence. How many plans for revenge and thoughts of hatred and jealousy have vanished in a mother’s presence! Her children leave her company determined to be better men, nobler women, and more faithful citizens.

"How many of us have stood and watched with admiration the returning victor of some petty battle, cheering until we were hoarse, exhausting ourselves with the vehemence of our enthusiasm," says a writer, "when right beside us, possibly touching our hand, was one greater than he? One whose battle has not been petty—whose conflict has not been of short duration, but has for us fought many a severe fight.

"How many of us have stood watching the returning victor of some minor battle with admiration?" a writer asks. "We cheered until we were hoarse and wore ourselves out with enthusiasm. Yet right beside us, perhaps touching our hand, was someone greater than the victor. That person's battle has not been minor or short. Instead, that person has fought many a hard fight for us.

"When we had the scarlet fever or diphtheria and not one would come near us, who held the cup of cold water to our fever-parched lips? Who bent over us day and night and fought away with almost supernatural strength the greatest of all enemies—death? The world's greatest heroine—Mother! Who is it that each Sunday dinner-time chose the neck of the chicken that we might have the juicy wing or breast or leg? Who is it stays home from the concert, the social, the play, that we may go with the others and not be stinted for small change? Who is it crucifies her love of pretty clothes, her desire for good things, her longing for pleasure that we may have all these? Who is it? Mother!"

"When we had scarlet fever or diphtheria and no one would come near us, who held a cup of cold water to our fever-dried lips? Who watched over us day and night? Who fought off the greatest enemy of all, death, with almost superhuman strength? The world's greatest heroine, Mother! Who chose the chicken neck at Sunday dinner so we could have the juicy wing, breast, or leg? Who stays home from the concert, the social gathering, or the play? She does it so we can go with the others and have enough spending money. Who sacrifices her love of pretty clothes, her desire for nice things, and her longing for pleasure so we can have them all? Who is it? Mother!"

The greatest heroine in the world is the mother. No one else makes such sacrifices, or endures anything like the suffering that she uncomplainingly endures for her children.

The greatest heroine in the world is a mother. No one else makes such sacrifices or bears so much suffering for her children without complaining.

What is the giving of one's life in battle or in a wreck at sea to save another, in comparison with the perpetual sacrifice of many mothers of a living death lasting for half a century or more? How the world's heroes dwindle in comparison with the mother heroine! There is no one in the average family, the value of whose services begins to compare with those of the mother, and yet there is no one who is more generally neglected or taken advantage of. She must remain at home evenings, and look after the children, when the others are out having a good time. Her cares never cease. She is responsible for the housework, for the preparation of meals; she has the children's clothes to make or mend, there is company to be entertained, darning to be done, and a score of little duties which must often be attended to at odd moments, snatched from her busy days, and she is often up working at night, long after every one else in the house is asleep.

How does giving one’s life to save another in battle or a shipwreck compare with the constant sacrifice of many mothers? For them, that sacrifice is a living death lasting half a century or more. How small the world’s heroes seem beside the heroic mother! In the average family, no one’s services come close to matching the value of a mother’s. Yet no one is more often neglected or taken advantage of. She must stay home in the evenings and look after the children while everyone else is out enjoying themselves. Her cares never end. She is responsible for the housework and preparing meals. She must make or mend the children’s clothes, entertain guests, darn clothes, and attend to countless small duties. She often has to fit these tasks into spare moments in her busy days. And she often works at night, long after everyone else in the house is asleep.

No matter how loving or thoughtful the father may be, the heavier burdens, the greater anxieties, the weightier responsibilities of the home, of the children, usually fall on the mother. Indeed, the very virtues of the good mother are a constant temptation to the other members of the family, especially the selfish ones, to take advantage of her. They seem to take it for granted that they can put all their burdens on the patient, uncomplaining mother; that she will always do anything to help out, and to enable the children to have a good time; and in many homes, sad to say, the mother, just because of her goodness, is shamefully imposed upon and neglected. "Oh, mother won't mind, mother will stay at home." How often we hear remarks like this from thoughtless children!

No matter how loving or thoughtful the father may be, the heavier burdens of home and children usually fall on the mother. So do the greater anxieties and responsibilities. In fact, a good mother's virtues constantly tempt other family members, especially the selfish ones, to take advantage of her. They seem to assume they can put all their burdens on their patient, uncomplaining mother. They assume she will always do whatever she can to help and make sure the children have a good time. Sadly, in many homes, a mother's goodness leads the family to take shameful advantage of her and neglect her. "Oh, mother won't mind, mother will stay at home." How often we hear thoughtless children say things like this!

It is always the poor mother on whom the burden falls; and the pathetic thing is that she rarely gets much credit or praise.

The burden always falls on the poor mother. And sadly, she rarely gets much credit or praise.

Many mothers in the poor and working classes practically sacrifice all that most people hold dearest in life for their children. They deliberately impair their health, wear themselves out, make all sorts of sacrifices, to send a worthless boy to college. They take in washing, go out house-cleaning, do the hardest and most menial work, in order to give their boys and girls an education and the benefit of priceless opportunities that they never had; yet, how often, they are rewarded only with total indifference and neglect!

Many poor and working-class mothers give up nearly everything most people hold dearest for their children. They knowingly damage their health, wear themselves out, and make all kinds of sacrifices to send a worthless boy to college. They take in laundry, clean other people’s houses, and do the hardest, most menial work. They do all this to give their sons and daughters an education and priceless opportunities they never had themselves. Yet how often are they rewarded with nothing but complete indifference and neglect!

Some time ago I heard of a young girl, beautiful, gay, full of spirit and vigor, who married and had four children. Her husband died penniless, and the mother made the most heroic efforts to educate the children. By dint of unremitting toil and unheard of sacrifices and privations she succeeded in sending the boys to college and the girls to a boarding-school. When they came home, pretty, refined girls and strong young men, abreast with all the new ideas and tastes of their times, she was a worn-out, commonplace old woman. They had their own pursuits and companions. She lingered unappreciated among them for two or three years, and then died, of some sudden failure of the brain. The shock of her fatal illness woke them to consciousness of the truth. They hung over her, as she lay prostrate, in an agony of grief. The oldest son, as he held her in his arms, cried: "You have been a good mother to us!" Her face brightened, her eyes kindled into a smile, and she whispered: "You never said so before, John." Then the light died out, and she was gone.

Some time ago, I heard of a young woman who was beautiful, cheerful, and full of spirit and energy. She married and had four children. Her husband died penniless, and she made heroic efforts to educate their children. Through tireless work and extraordinary sacrifices and hardships, she sent the boys to college and the girls to boarding school. When the children came home, the girls were pretty and refined, and the boys were strong young men. All were familiar with the latest ideas and tastes of their time. Their mother, meanwhile, was a worn-out, ordinary old woman. The children had their own interests and friends. She lived among them, unappreciated, for two or three years. Then she died from a sudden failure of the brain. The shock of her fatal illness awakened them to the truth. As she lay helpless, they gathered around her in an agony of grief. The oldest son held her in his arms and cried: "You have been a good mother to us!" Her face brightened, her eyes lit up, and she smiled and whispered: "You never said so before, John." Then the light faded, and she was gone.

Many men spend more money on expensive caskets, flowers, and emblems of mourning than they ever spent on their poor, loving, self-sacrificing mothers for many years while alive. Men who, perhaps, never thought of carrying flowers to their mothers in life, pile them high on their coffins.

Many men spend more on expensive caskets, flowers, and symbols of mourning than they spent on their poor, loving, self-sacrificing mothers during many years of their lives. Some men perhaps never thought to bring their mothers flowers while they were alive, yet pile flowers high on their coffins.

Who can ever depict the tragedies that have been enacted in the hearts of American mothers, who have suffered untold tortures from neglect, indifference, and lack of appreciation?

Who can ever describe the tragedies in the hearts of American mothers? They have suffered untold agony from neglect, indifference, and lack of appreciation.

What a pathetic story of neglect many a mother's letters from her grown-up children could tell! A few scraggy lines, a few sentences now and then, hurriedly written and mailed—often to ease a troubled conscience—mere apologies for letters, which chill the mother heart.

What a sad story of neglect many mothers’ letters from their grown children could tell! A few scrawled lines or sentences arrive now and then, hurriedly written and mailed, often to ease a troubled conscience. These poor excuses for letters chill a mother’s heart.

I know men who owe their success in life to their mother; who have become prosperous and influential, because of the splendid training of the self-sacrificing mother, and whose education was secured at an inestimable cost to her, and yet they seldom think of carrying to her flowers, confectionery, or little delicacies, or of taking her to a place of amusement, or of giving her a vacation or bestowing upon her any of the little attentions and favors so dear to a woman's heart. They seem to think she is past the age for these things, that she no longer cares for them, that about all she expects is enough to eat and drink, and the simplest kind of raiment.

I know men who owe their success in life to their mothers. They have become prosperous and influential because of the excellent upbringing their self-sacrificing mothers gave them. Their mothers also paid an immeasurable price to secure their education. Yet these men seldom think of bringing their mothers flowers, candy, or little treats. They rarely take them to a place of entertainment or give them a vacation. Nor do they offer them any of the small attentions and favors so dear to a woman's heart. They seem to think their mothers are too old for these things and no longer care for them. They seem to believe that their mothers expect little more than enough to eat and drink and the simplest clothing.

These men do not know the feminine heart which never changes in these respects, except to grow more appreciative of the little attentions, the little considerations, and thoughtful acts which meant so much to them in their younger days.

These men do not understand women’s hearts. In these respects, women’s hearts never change, except to grow more appreciative of small attentions, considerations, and thoughtful acts. These meant so much to them when they were younger.

Not long ago I heard a mother, whose sufferings and sacrifices for her children during a long and trying struggle with poverty should have given her a monument, say, that she guessed she'd better go to an old ladies' home and end her days there. What a picture that was! An aged woman with white hair and a sweet, beautiful face; with a wonderful light in her eye; calm, serene, and patient, yet dignified, whose children, all of whom are married and successful, made her feel as if she were a burden! They live in luxurious homes, but have never offered to provide a home for the poor, old rheumatic mother, who for so many years slaved for them. They put their own homes, stocks, and other property in their wives' names, and while they pay the rent of their mother's meagerly furnished rooms and provide for her actual needs, they apparently never think what joy it would give her to own her own home, and to possess some pretty furnishings, and a few pictures.

Not long ago, I heard a mother say she guessed she'd better go to a home for older women and end her days there. She had suffered and sacrificed so much for her children during a long, difficult struggle with poverty that she deserved a monument. What a picture that was! She was an elderly woman with white hair, a sweet, beautiful face, and a wonderful light in her eyes. She was calm, serene, patient, and dignified. Yet her children, all of whom were married and successful, made her feel like a burden! They live in luxurious homes, but they have never offered a home to their poor, rheumatic mother. For many years, she had worked tirelessly for them. They put their homes, stocks, and other property in their wives' names. They pay the rent for their mother's sparsely furnished rooms and provide for her basic needs. But they apparently never consider how much joy it would give her to own a home, some pretty furniture, and a few pictures.

In many cases men through thoughtlessness do not provide generously for their mothers even when well able to. They seem to think that a mother can live most anywhere, and most anyway; that if she has enough to supply her necessities she is satisfied. Just think, you prosperous business men, how you would feel if the conditions were reversed, if you were obliged to take the dependent, humiliating position of your mother!

In many cases, men thoughtlessly fail to provide generously for their mothers, even when they can easily afford to. They seem to think a mother can live almost anywhere and under almost any conditions. They think she is satisfied as long as she has enough to meet her basic needs. You prosperous businessmen, just think how you would feel if the situation were reversed! How would you feel if you had to live in your mother's dependent, humiliating position?

Whatever else you are obliged to neglect, take no chances of giving your mother pain by neglecting her, and of thus making yourself miserable in the future.

Whatever else you have to neglect, do not risk hurting your mother by neglecting her. You may make yourself miserable in the future.

The time may come when you will stand by her bedside, in her last sickness, or by her coffin, and wish that you had exchanged a little of your money for more visits and more attentions and more little presents to your mother; when you will wish that you had cultivated her more, even at the cost of making a little less money.

The time may come when you stand at your mother's bedside during her final illness, or beside her coffin. You may wish you had spent a little of your money on more visits, attention, and small gifts for her. You may wish you had spent more time with her, even if it meant making a little less money.

There is no one else in this world who can take your mother's place in your life. And there is no remorse like that which comes from the remembrance of ill-treating, abusing, or being unkind to one's mother. These things stand out with awful vividness and terrible clearness when the mother is gone forever from sight, and you have time to contrast your treatment with her long suffering, tenderness, and love, and her years of sacrifice for you.

No one else in this world can take your mother's place in your life. And no remorse compares to remembering that you mistreated, abused, or were unkind to your mother. Those memories stand out with terrible clarity when your mother is gone forever. Then you have time to compare your treatment of her with her patience, tenderness, and love, and her years of sacrifice for you.

One of the most painful things I have ever witnessed was the anguish of a son who had become wealthy and in his prosperity neglected the mother, whose sacrifices alone had made his success possible. He did not take the time to write to her more than twice a year, and then only brief letters. He was too busy to send a good long letter to the poor old lonely mother back in the country, who had risked her life and toiled and sacrificed for years for him! Finally, when he was summoned to her bedside in the country, in her last sickness, and realized that his mother had been for years without the ordinary comforts of life, while he had been living in luxury, he broke down completely. And while he did everything possible to alleviate her suffering, in the few last days that remained to her on earth, and gave her an imposing burial, what torture he must have suffered, at this pitiful picture of his mother who had sacrificed everything for him!

One of the most painful things I have ever witnessed was the anguish of a wealthy son. His mother’s sacrifices alone had made his success possible, but he neglected her once he prospered. He wrote to her no more than twice a year, and even then his letters were brief. He was too busy to send a long letter to his poor, lonely old mother in the country. Yet she had risked her life, worked hard, and sacrificed for years for him! Finally, he was called to her bedside in the country during her last illness. He realized that his mother had gone without ordinary comforts for years while he lived in luxury. He broke down completely. He did everything possible to ease her suffering during her few remaining days and gave her a grand burial. But what torment he must have suffered at the pitiful sight of his mother, who had sacrificed everything for him!

"The regrets for thoughtless acts and indifference to admonitions now felt and expressed by many living sons of dead mothers will, in time, be felt and expressed by the living sons of living mothers," says Richard L. Metcalfe, in the "Commoner." "The boys of to-day who do not understand the value of the mother's companionship will yet sing—with those who already know—this song of tribute and regret:

"Many living sons whose mothers have died now express regret for thoughtless acts and for ignoring their mothers' warnings. In time, sons whose mothers are still living will feel and express the same regret," says Richard L. Metcalfe in the "Commoner." "Today, some boys do not understand the value of their mothers' companionship. One day, they will join those who already know in singing this song of tribute and regret:

No man worthy of the name ever neglects or forgets his mother.

No man worthy of being called a man ever neglects or forgets his mother.

I have an acquaintance, of very poor parentage, who had a hard struggle to get a start in the world; but when he became prosperous and built his beautiful home, he finished a suite of rooms in it especially for his mother, furnished them with all conveniences and comforts possible, and insisted upon keeping a maid specially for her. Although she lives with her son's family, she is made to feel that this part of the great home is her own, and that she is as independent as though she lived in her own house. Every son should be ambitious to see his mother as well provided for as his wife.

I know a man who came from a very poor family and struggled to get started in life. But when he became prosperous and built a beautiful home, he set aside a suite of rooms especially for his mother. He furnished them with every possible convenience and comfort, and insisted on keeping a maid just for her. Although she lives with her son's family, she is made to feel that this part of the large house is her own. She feels as independent as if she lived in her own house. Every son should aim to see his mother as well provided for as his wife.

Really great men have always reverenced and cared tenderly for their mothers. President McKinley provided in his will that, first of all, his mother should be made comfortable for life.

Truly great men have always honored their mothers and cared for them tenderly. President McKinley made it his first priority in his will to provide for his mother’s comfort for the rest of her life.

The first act of Garfield, after he was inaugurated President, was to kiss his aged mother, who sat near him, and who said this was the proudest and happiest moment of her life.

After Garfield was inaugurated as President, his first act was to kiss his elderly mother, who sat near him. She said it was the proudest and happiest moment of her life.

Ex-President Loubet of France, even after his elevation to the presidency, took great pride in visiting his mother, who was a humble market gardener in a little French village. A writer on one occasion, describing a meeting between this mother and her son, says: "Her noted son awaited her in the market-place, as she drove up in her little cart loaded with vegetables. Assisting his mother to alight, the French President gave her his arm and escorted her to her accustomed seat. Then holding over her a large umbrella, to shield her from the threatening weather, he seated himself at her side, and mother and son enjoyed a long talk together."

Even after becoming president of France, Ex-President Loubet took great pride in visiting his mother. She was a humble market gardener in a small French village. A writer once described a meeting between mother and son: "Her famous son waited for her in the marketplace as she arrived in her small cart loaded with vegetables. The French President helped his mother out of the cart, offered her his arm, and escorted her to her usual seat. Then he held a large umbrella over her to protect her from the threatening weather. He sat down beside her, and mother and son enjoyed a long talk together."

I once saw a splendid young college graduate introduce his poor, plainly dressed old mother to his classmates with as much pride and dignity as though she was a queen. Her form was bent, her hands were calloused, she was prematurely old, and much of this deterioration was caused by all sorts of drudgery to help her boy to pay his college expenses.

I once saw a fine young college graduate introduce his poor, plainly dressed old mother to his classmates. He showed as much pride and dignity as if she were a queen. She was bent over, her hands were calloused, and she had grown old before her time. Much of this was caused by the hard work she had done to help her son pay for college.

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.

I have seen other college men whose mothers had made similar sacrifices. These men were ashamed to have their mothers attend their graduations or 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.

Think of the humiliation and suffering of the slave mother who has given the best years of her life to a large family. She has battled poverty, trying to make her little home respectable and give her children an education. Then she realizes that she is falling behind intellectually. Yet she has no time or strength to read or educate herself. She has no chance to broaden her outlook by traveling or mixing with the world. But this is nothing compared to the anguish she suffers when she realizes that her children are ashamed of her ignorance. They want to keep her in the background. By then, the flower of her youth is gone. Nothing remains of her but the ashes of a burned-out life, the tattered remnants of the magnificent woman she once was.

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.

From infancy, children should be taught to look up to their mother, not look down on her. For that reason, she should never appear before them in sloppy clothes. Nor should she behave in any way that would make them respect her less. She should keep developing her mind so her children do not outgrow her understanding and sympathy.

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.

No matter how cruel or ungrateful a son may be, or how deeply he may sink into vice or crime, he can always count on his mother’s love. If she is alive and able to get there, she will follow him even to his grave. She will cling to him when everyone else has fled.

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

It is always true, as Kipling movingly expresses in his beautiful verses on "Mother Love":

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 the penitentiary to visit her boy, who had been abandoned by everybody but herself. Poor old mother! It did not matter that he was a criminal, that he had disgraced his family, that everybody else had forsaken him, that he had been unkind to her—the mother's heart went out to him just the same. She did not see the hideous human wreck that crime had made. She saw only her darling boy, the child that God had given her, pure and innocent as in his childhood.

One of the saddest sights I have ever seen was a poor, old, worn-out mother who had devoted her life to her children. She was making a long journey to prison to visit her boy. Everyone but her had abandoned him. Poor old mother! It did not matter that he was a criminal or that he had disgraced his family. It did not matter that everyone else had abandoned him or that he had been unkind to her. Her mother’s heart still went out to him. She did not see the dreadful human wreck that crime had made of him. She saw only her darling boy, the child God had given her, as pure and innocent as he had been in childhood.

Oh, there is no other human love like this, which follows the child from the cradle to the grave, never once abandons, never once forsakes him, no matter how unfortunate or degenerate he may become.

Oh, no other human love is like this. It follows a child from birth to death and never abandons him, no matter how unfortunate or corrupt he may become.

"So your best girl is dead," sneeringly said a New York magistrate to a young man who was arrested for attempting suicide. "Who was she?" Without raising his eyes, the unfortunate victim burst into tears and replied, "She was my mother!" The smile vanished from the magistrate's face and, with tears in his eyes, he said, "Young man, go and try to be a good man, for your mother's sake." How little we realize what tragedy may be going on in the hearts of those whom we sneeringly condemn!

"So your best girl is dead," a New York magistrate said mockingly to a young man arrested for attempting suicide. "Who was she?" Without looking up, the young man burst into tears and replied, "She was my mother!" The smile vanished from the magistrate's face. With tears in his eyes, he said, "Young man, go and try to be a good man, for your mother's sake." How little we realize what tragedy may be unfolding in the hearts of those we mock and condemn!

What movement set on foot in recent years, deserves heartier support than that for the establishment of a national Mothers' Day?

What movement started in recent years deserves more enthusiastic support than the one to establish a national Mothers' Day?

The day set apart as Mothers' Day by those who have inaugurated this movement is the second Sunday in May. Let us unite in doing all we can to make it a real Mothers' Day, by especially honoring our mothers; in the flesh, those of us who are so fortunate as to have our mothers with us; in the spirit, those who are not so fortunate.

Those who started the Mothers' Day movement chose the second Sunday in May for the celebration. Let us all do what we can to make it a true Mothers' Day by giving special honor to our mothers. Those of us lucky enough to have our mothers with us can honor them in person. Those who are not so fortunate can honor them in spirit.

If away from her, write a good, loving letter, or telephone or telegraph to the best mother who ever lived—your mother. Send her some flowers, an appropriate present; go and spend the day with her, or in some other way make her heart glad. Show her that you appreciate her, and that you give her credit for a large part of your success.

If you are away from your mother, the best mother who ever lived, write her a loving letter. Or call or text her. Send her flowers or a suitable gift. Spend the day with her, or find another way to make her happy. Show her that you appreciate her and recognize how much she contributed to your success.

Let us do all we can to make up for past neglect of the little-known, half-appreciated, unheralded mothers who have had so little credit in the past, and are so seldom mentioned among the world's achievers, by openly, and especially in our hearts, paying our own mothers every tribute of honor, respect, devotion, and gratitude that love and a sense of duty can suggest. Let us acknowledge to the world the great debt we owe them by wearing, every one of us, boy and girl, man and woman, on Mothers' Day, a white carnation—the flower chosen as the symbol and emblem of motherhood.

Let us do all we can to make up for the past neglect of mothers. They have been little known, half appreciated, and unheralded. They have received so little credit in the past and are so seldom mentioned among the world's achievers. Let us honor our own mothers openly, and especially in our hearts. Let us give them every tribute of honor, respect, devotion, and gratitude that love and a sense of duty can suggest. Let us show the world the great debt we owe them. Every one of us, boys and girls, men and women, should wear a white carnation on Mothers' Day. The white carnation is the flower chosen as the symbol and emblem of motherhood.

Happily chosen emblem! What could more fittingly represent motherhood with its whiteness symbolizing purity; its lasting qualities, faithfulness; its fragrance, love; its wide field of growth, charity; its form, beauty!

What a fitting emblem! What could better represent motherhood? Its whiteness symbolizes purity, its lasting nature faithfulness, and its fragrance love. Its wide range of growth symbolizes charity, and its shape symbolizes beauty!

What an impressive and beautiful tribute to motherhood it would be for a whole nation to unite one day in wearing its chosen emblem, and in song and speech, and other appropriate exercises, to honor its mothers!

What a beautiful and impressive tribute to motherhood it would be if a whole nation united for one day! Everyone could wear the nation’s chosen emblem and honor its mothers with songs, speeches, and other fitting activities.