The proudest monarch that ever wore a crown, or the most illustrious commander whose fortune it has been to subjugate empires, are melted into contrition when she who nursed the incipient fires of his mortal existence is passing from earth to be hidden from his gaze through the appointed seasons of revolving time. Even the obdurate and depraved turn to her with reverence, and though crime may have placed his feet upon the scaffold where his offense is to be expiated, yet even there the obdurate heart melts into contrition as regretful recollections crowd his bosom that his life had not been molded by the plastic hand of a mother's watchfulness and the words of gentle admonition that fell from her lips. We reverence father for his protection and justice, for sheltering abodes that have secured us from the pelting storms, for his continued kindness as we grow from infancy to manhood, for his wise counsels and expenditure of means, perhaps to polish and refine us with educational science, but through all these bestowments the mother's vigilance has been co-equal, and through all she has ministered as the guardian angel of our existence. Her gentle hand is remembered in every circumstance and condition that has intervened. In health she has spoken kindly congratulations and in sickness has patiently watched through the midnight vigils to bathe the burning brow and still the raging pulse with grateful emollients. She moves in a sphere where unselfish affection holds dominion and wins its votaries by the charms of gentleness and grace, which draw upon the most enduring sensibilities evolved in the bosom of mortals. The adoration that may be revealed in the responsive blushes that glow upon a maiden's cheek, may be more impulsive and brilliant, but cannot be more lasting or conducive to the perpetuity of more substantial benefits. The holy flame of a mother's devotion will burn on undiminished in its brightness, while that of the trusted bride and bridegroom may wane and be extinguished upon the bleak shores swept by the unwelcome winds of adversity.
Source: Lyman Littlefield Reminiscences (1888), p.135 - p.136
Contributed by: Zaady