Show rt chah aam lilac time by THOMAS ARKLE CLARK dean of mon men university of illinois WAS born in the spring nhen the lilacs were in bloom and almost my first conscious memory Is of a bright sunshiny day when I 1 was wall walking log with mother in the garden down a pathway bordered with irises there was a flowering currant in one cornet corner of the garden and I 1 caught the glint of its yellow blossoms through t the shrubbery and smelled its pungent fragrance the lilacs were in bloom and the evening air was filled with the odor of the flowers I 1 was only a few years from babyhood at the time but I 1 uever never catch the scent of the lilac blos without recalling as vividly as it if it 11 were yesterday the beauty of the day and the details ot of our conversation I 1 can see mothers brown hair waving back from her forehead I 1 can feel the soft touch of her handas we walked down the path la in my ears are the low musical tones of her voice and the air Is filled with the breath of spring and the odor ot of the lilac flow era em mother had come that afternoon from the funeral of the mother of a little friend of mine and she was trying to explain to my childish mind something of the meaning and certainty of death and could you too die I 1 asked my childish heart cold with fear yes flear dear she said everybody must do so some day and no one can tell when his bis time la is coming what would I 1 dot dor I 1 asked my lip quivering a little if you were gone god would take care of you lad she said bald full of faith and if you are a good boy you need not fear its a long long ions time ago since that quiet evening in may but so long as I 1 live that will be mothers day to me I 1 have never forgotten the simple lessons of truth and faith and virtue and fluty duty which she impressed upon me then and though I 1 may not always have hate followed them as I 1 should I 1 never see the yellow currant blossoms or smell the fragrance of the lilac flowers without recalling the precious memory of mother and the lessons that she taught me and I 1 still believe that it if I 1 am good I 1 need not tear fear you yon mothers whose sons SODS are far away avray from you yon in college colleg e or la in bustness business engaged in the work of the world you sometimes feel that they have bate forgotten your admonitions that oey are beyond your influence that they are drifting perhaps like a ship without a rudder at sea but it Is not go BO the scent of a flower a bit ot of color on the landscape the touch ot of a hand the intonations of i a voice will bring back to them with a rush the ime memories morles of childhood and the lessons and the principles which were then implanted in them there Is lying on my desk now a letter from a young man in one of the pits cities ot af the country ile he has seen a good deal of the world and might be expected it one did no not know human to have hava forgotten most of tile the senti sentimentalities mentalities and emotions of child hood both of his parents have been dead for or years its strange he writes how bow impossible it Is to get away from th the 0 lessons lessens mother taught me there Is a temptation comes to mo me but I 1 bear her warning words there thera Is baever never a duty which I 1 am inclined to chirk but I 1 hear her old admonition run along dear and got get it dono done nowa now there Is never a task well performed but I 1 feel her approval they flo do not forget they may grow careless they may wander away tor for a time but the lessons of youth will come back to them 01 1925 western newspaper unton |