“The Big Feather Bed”
Dr. J.C. Massee was pastor of Tremont Temple in Boston but he was reared in Georgia. He said his mother was the sweetest woman in the world, but there was one thing she was very strict about. She wouldn’t let her children play on her snow-white feather beds. She prided herself on having the prettiest and whitest beds in Georgia. He said he often wanted to dive into one of those beds, but knew it would get him into trouble. One day when his mother was outdoors hanging up clothes, he was alone in the house. He walked down the hall past the “guest bedroom” and that big feather bed seemed to beckon him. He forgot his mother for a minute and ran and dove in and had a great time lounging there. Then he heard the rustle of skirts and looked up to see his mother standing in the door. He knew he deserved a whipping and he knew he was going to get one. Just then the window opened and his big six-foot brother crawled in. “Wait a minute, mom,” he cried. Then he went over to the bed and stretched his big body over his little brother. “All right, mother,” he said, “lay it on. I’ll take it for him.”
Dr. Massee said he listened for the switch to fall, but it didn’t. He peeped out and saw tears on his mother’s cheek. She said to her oldest son, “Pick him up and take him out of here.” Dr Massee said that one day many years later he was where he knew he shouldn’t be—away
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