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Newspaper Page Text
REAL MOTHER LOVE
A woman, showing in her face and figure heavy marks of suf
fering and poverty, wept before a, Philadelphia judge and a court
room full of spectators when she pleaded for mercy for her 17-year-old
Qf all the heart-straining scenes enacted -within the grim walls
of the courts, nothing is so touching as the common enough specta
cle of a mother on her knees pleading for the babe of her breast the
child she bore and still loves and is willing to forgive.
"He has always been such a good boy, judge," cried the woman,
although the charge against the lad in the dock affected the life, of a
little girl, and the testimony was so revolting that the police spoke
in vhispers while on the witness stand. ,
But no one in the court room could fail to feel a thrill of sym
pathy when the sobbing mother begged, pleaded, and even com
manded, the dignified judge to spare, the boy who, however much
he had outraged society and disgraced his name, was still her be
loved son. She seemed, unafraid as she tood at the bar unawed
by the rigid court disciplincthat causes most timid people, especially,
women, to gulp and stutter and tremble. All that mother seemed
to see or feel was that her child, her loved one, the creature of her
flesh, was in peril, and she fought for him with-thctigerish maternal
devotion that God endowed to the sex for the protection of the
young and helpless.
The boy had just been found guilty by the jury. All seemed
black for him. It was pain that he was guilty, and .the character of
his offense made him the object of scorn and disgust of all who be
held him except that mother.
"He has always been good 'to me, and L love him," the woman
went on. She tried desperately to find some excuse, some extenuat
ing circumstance for his evil conduct. She had worked very hard,
and had a large family, and was poor. She had not been able to give
the boy the advantages that Would build his character. She blamed
herself for her neglect of him. She sought to transfer to her own
shoulders the responsibility of his guilt. It was pitiful to see.
The judge interrupted the woman. "How many children have
you?" he asked. v
"I am the mother of eighteen," the little woman answered. "I
have done the best I could for them arid " ,But her sobs choked her
and she could not finish.
The mother of eighteen, and this lost lamb this lamb turned
wolf was still so precious to her heartt that she would make the
complete sacrifice for him j yes,, doubtless she would die for him, the
Jeast of eighteen. ?That is- the knobility of motherhood,
fcuaftWa.,-a-, ,- js-3"