GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE 



C 



MOTHER 



lur 



Do you re- 

 member the 

 'play thing 

 drawer ' in your 

 mother's kitch- 

 en table?" ask- 

 ed a cousin who 

 had come to be 

 with us during 

 those first hard 

 days when mother's loved form lay in the 

 old home, awaiting the last resting place. 

 Do I remember? It is one of my most pre- 

 cious memories, and it is such a revelation 

 of our mother's character that I am going 

 to tell you a little about it. Sweet and mod- 

 est as the violet of her native England, 

 mother always kept herself in the back- 

 ground, and only her husband and children 

 know how much of the credit for anything 

 which they have accomplished should go to 

 her. 



THE modern compact kitchen with its 

 cabinet, sanitary table, and other con- 

 veniences to save steps is very different 

 from my mother's kitchen when I was a lit- 

 tle child. The table at which mother stood 

 to do most of her work was of walnut, with 

 drop leaves, and at one end was a wide, 

 shallow drawer, designed for cutlery, cook- 

 ing spoons, etc. But unselfishness, mother's 

 dominant characteristic, is revealed in the 

 fact that the drawer, within my recollec- 

 tion, never held anything to help mother in 

 her work and save her steps. It held chil- 

 dren's playthings. Little, hindering, and 

 mischief-making hands were busy at the 

 drawer much of the time while mother's pa- 

 tient feet carried her many steps to the large 

 pantry after articles which might have been 

 kept near at hand in the drawer. 



That drawer reveals something of her life 

 of service. Children's treasures are apt to 

 be kept in the room in which mother spends 

 most of her time. Father and mother were 

 neither of them ever robust, and who knows 

 .but that the fact of all mother's children, 

 grandchildren and great-grandchildren sur- 

 viving her is due to her spending so many 

 hours preparing simple but delicious and nu- 

 tritious food for her family. In the early 

 years of her married life the struggle to 

 make ends meet made such work a neces- 

 sity, and in later years she chose to do it 

 because of her innate love of a simple life, 

 a taste which she shared with father. 



The old drawer reveals her sweet mother- 

 liness and love of all little children. When 

 her own children wore grown and had homes 

 of their own she still kept the table drawer 

 much as it had been. Some of my dearest 

 recollections of mother are the visits we 

 had when I took my babies, each one in 

 turn, and sat beside that drawer, the cur- 

 rent baby ecstatic over its contents while 

 mother, still quick, active and light on her 

 feet, went on with h^r work. 



1 



CONSTANCE ROOT BOYDEN 



(Stancy Puerden) 



^^^^^^^^^ 



JANUARV, 1922 



Mother was 

 not only a baby 

 lover; she was a 

 baby charmer as 

 well. She could 

 pick up a baby 

 screaming with 

 pain or just 

 baby rage at not 

 having his own 

 way, lay him in a certain position across 

 her knees, pat his back, trot him gently and 

 rhythmically, talk to him and in a minute 

 he would be smiling blissfully at grandma. 

 The contents of the drawer reveal her 

 understanding of child nature. I think 

 there was scarcely a toy in it. By toy I 

 mean something bought at a toy shop. It 

 was filled with "treasures," queer bits of 

 metal and wood, an old steel puzzle made 

 by father, rubber balls, balls of string, little 

 wooden boxes and a little shallow bowl, 

 carved from black walnut. The last named 

 we were fond of sailing on a "lake," which 

 mother prepared for us by putting a dishpan 

 or tub filled with water on the floor. In cold 

 weather she always warmed the water of 

 the little lake that childish hands might 

 not be chilled. She never forgot the com- 

 fort of anyone but herself. 



A few days ago when I visited mother's 

 kitchen, opened the drawer and tried to see 

 the contents thru hot tears I thought of an- 

 other trait which the old drawer reveals. It 

 was her talent for exquisite neatness and 

 order. The drawer was lined with clean 

 paper and its contents, now so few, were in 

 perfect order. The old "treasures" were 

 nearly all gone, given away, bit by bit, to 

 coaxing grandchildren. But there was one 

 thing with which mother never would part. 

 Her youngest child, a son, many years ago 

 visited a foundry, pressed his fat little hand 

 into a clay mould and a workman filled the 

 mould with molten metal. That little iron 

 hand is still in the drawer, and the one 

 whose boyish hand made the print is now, 

 at thirty-eight, the father of a long-hoped- 

 fo;- baby boy, whom his grandmother never 

 saw. 



IT was not only in babyhood that mother 

 loved and mothered her grandchildren. 



The memory of her friendship for our two 

 sons, now 22 and 18 years of age respective- 

 ly, is a rich legacy for them and for us. I 

 imagine their way of running to her and 

 confiding in her reminded her of her own two 

 sons in their bovhood. For years they sel- 

 dom missed eating Sunday evening lunch 

 with her, when in town, and I never could 

 be quite sure whether she invited them or 

 thev just gravitated in that direction. 



She was very happy over the school and 

 college work of all her granchildren, for 

 love of education amounted almost to a 

 passion with her. and she was always ready 

 to sacrifice anything that her dear ones 



