To the Cathedral of St. John the Divine came a lady with fortunes broken. She and her boy had sought out New York as a city of opportunity and generosity. She sang for a pittance, he sold papers. They found the cathedral and the old building where the boys sang, and the choirmaster who could help the boy develop his voice.
urged. Afterward a change came gradually. As though she could endure the ordeal only by forgetting it and could forget it only by looking ahead into the happiness for which it was endured, slowly there began to shine out upon her face its ruling passion--the acceptance of life and the love of the mother glinting as from a cloud-hidden sun across the world's storm. When this expression had come out, it stayed there. She had forgotten her surroundings, she had forgotten herself. Poor indeed must have been the soul that would not have been touched by the spectacle of her, thrilled by her as by a great vision.
There was silence in the room of young workers. Before them, on the face of the unknown, was the only look that the whole world knows--the love and self-sacrifice of the mother; perhaps the only element of our better humanity that never once in the history of mankind has been misunderstood and ridiculed or envied and reviled.
Some of them worked with faces brightened by thoughts of devoted mot