erty?" asked Mr. Douthit. "Yes," replied the man, "she helped me to get it all. We had nothing when we were married." "Then," said Mr. Douthit, "half the property is justly hers whether she marries again or not, and I shall write no such a will." The man pleaded, but without avail; if such a will were written it was done by another hand.
On another occasion a man had died and left a widow and several children without means. According to the law then in operation, if it were the pleasure of the court, a widow's children could be taken from her and bound out, the court being the sole judge whether she could or could not support them. In this instance the mother was physically strong and most willing to make the effort to provide for her children; but the court did not recognize her ability nor consider her willingness. The distracted mother sought the advice and help of Mr. Douthit, who earnestly espoused her cause, entering the plea that before the children were bound out the mother should be given an opportunity to prove whether or not she could maintain them. The writer remembers hearing the mother tell with sobs her pathetic story and plead for her children.
Though a South Carolinian, Mr. Douthit did not indorse his native state in its acts of secession, and he deplored the rebellion. Slavery he regarded as a wrong—a curse alike to the black man and to the white, and a condition for which no section nor country was alone responsible. He believed, however, that those who best understood the negro's character and the conditions of slavery were the best qualified to cope with the problem and render a solution.
Notwithstanding Mr. Douthit belonged to a long-lived family, his father having lived to the age of 84 and his mother 96, he died at 60. Beside the wife he so tenderly cherished through her years of suffering, he noAV rests beneath the pines of Eastern Oregon.
Lueza Osborn Douthit
MY MOTHER—of her life work what can I say? Not a fixed principle of right that is mine, not a lofty sentiment that animates my soul that received not life-giving inspiration from my mother. Gentle and unobtrusive she was, and her work was so quiet that those nearest her realized not the subtle power she exercised nor the potent forces she set in motion, infusing vigor into the principles she inculcated and strength into the sentiments she implanted. At her knee her little ones gathered, and heard from her lips the simple words of the meek and lowly Jesus; the same sweet words He spake to the waiting people on the shores of Galilee. From the word of God she gleaned the great truth. At this fountain she sought the wisdom necessary to enable her to work out life's greatest problem, that of directing her children in the right way.
