A Pioneer Mother
By
CHICAGO
THE BOOKFELLOWS
1922
Five hundred small paper and twenty-five tall paper copies of thismonograph have been printed for The Bookfellows in September,1922. It is the first edition.
Copyright 1922
by Hamlin Garland
THE TORCH PRESS
CEDAR RAPIDS
IOWA
SHE was neither witty, nor learned in books, nor wise inthe ways of the world, but I contend that her life wasnoble. There was something in her unconscious heroismwhich transcends wisdom and the deeds of those who dwell inthe rose-golden light of romance. Now that her life is roundedinto the silence whence it came, its significance appears.
To me she was never young, for I am her son, and as I firstremember her she was a large, handsome, smiling woman—deftand powerful of movement, sweet and cheery of smile andvoice. She played the violin then, and I recall how she usedto lull me to sleep at night with simple tunes like “MoneyMusk” and “Dan Tucker.” She sang, too, and I rememberher clear soprano rising out of the singing of the Sunday congregationat the schoolhouse with thrilling sweetness and charm.Her hair was dark, her eyes brown, her skin fair and her lipsrested in lines of laughter.
Her first home was in Greene’s Coolly, in La Crosse County,Wisconsin, and was only a rude little cabin with three roomsand a garret. The windows of the house overlooked a meadowand a low range of wooded hills to the east. In this house shelived alone during two years of the Civil War while my fatherwent as a volunteer into the Army of the Tennessee. Mymemory of these times is vague but inset with charm. Thoughmy mother worked hard she had time to visit with her neighborsand often took her children with her to quilting bees, whichthey enjoyed, for they could play beneath the quilt as if it werea tent, and run under it for shelter from imaginary storms. Ifeel again her strong, soft, warm arms as she shielded me atnightfall from menacing wolves and other terrible creatures.When the world grew mysterious and vast and thick-peopledwith yawning monsters eager for little men and women, shegathered us to her bosom and sang us through the gates of sleep[6]into a golden land of dreams