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TIIE AltGTJS, WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 100).'
A DAY OF THANKS
IN THE OLD HOME
BY H. E.
Copyrfckt, 1S01, ty B, A. Brown.
LDEU than the Fourth ol
July by nearly a eentuty
and a half- ami in some
JlJ-V'-,''J respects nearer and dear
Kty : i ' er to the American heart.
Thanksgiving day occu
pies a iluce all its own.
The Lamit is finished,
the mows are full of ha;
and there is a conical
stack or two in the mead
ow near the old bara.
' There are turnips and iotAtocs and
luscious bleached celery and bis fat on
Jooa and gnarled squavhes in the cellar.
' There's mincemeat galore in the crocks
and rubicund pumpkins on the barn floor
ripe and ready for the pumpkin pie that
mother used to make and, thank heaven,
is still making.
I The corncrib is chock full of red and
yellow ears, the boy Las come borne from
the' city or town or from the faraway
Philippines, the married daughter and
Iier husband and the baby are visiting the
old folks and the old farm, and pretty
sister Sue and her beau are wearing out
the haircloth sofa in the front parlor,
rwhich is wide open, light and in use for
the first time in months.
There's tc roaring, sparkling, snapping
"hickory fire in the old fireplace, and every
man, woman, child, cat and dog around
jthe dear old home has a monstrous appe
tite for the turkey, and the minee pie.
5nd the pumpkin pie. and the cranberry
pa nee, and all the other good things that
mother has prepared.
For lone round the table the dear soul hat
J Each phase of the feast has been lo-
Aug . J piannvu.
.With food fit lor princes tbe table is cov
J Tor mother outcooka any ch-f in the
' Then gather about tbe table and let
"father say grace, aad say it quickly, for
the turkey is crisp and brown and Juicy
and must not-be kept waiting a moment
longer , than is necessary.
Thanksgiving day is the greatest of all
home days, and "there's no place like
home" like the old home on the village
street, with the garden and the little bara
behind it. or like the old home on tbe
farm, where the trout stream still wnn
ders through the meadows even if the
trout have long been but a memory of the
past and even if its song today is but a
Where the wood lot, now sadly de
pleted, perhaps, recalls memories of a
tsturdy, red cheeked boy,
who swung an ax all day,
slept all night without
even turning over and ate
three square meals that
made the hired man turn
green with envy
Where the doves coo in
the dovecot on the wagon
shed and the swallows
(now far away, alas!)
play hide and seek and
tag and follow my leader
around the old bara and
under its eaves
Where the red squirrels
Home from the
lary, Improvident rascals
from the crib each sunny
and sputter shrill invective and squirrel
billingsgate at any one who tries to drive
them from their loot
Where the clean, gleaming milk pans
and milk pails sun themselves on tbe
bench near the kitchen door, and where
the same patient, cud chewing cows (or
are they the doubles, counterparts, bo
vine facsimiles of other patient cows long
since gone to their reward?) are con
detsped to the stocks night and morning
in the barn and, despite this treatment,
give milk that is never watered and that
is gcod for an inch of cream when the
ana gets up
Where the popcorn and the cider and
tbe maple sugar taste better than they
taste anywhere else on earth, and where
father and mother, with wrinkled faces,
white hair and work worn hands, with
gleaming spectacles and glistening eyes,
perhaps, have the warmest sort of wel
come for the returning prodigal.
What though bedtime be 8 p. in. and
getting up time 5 o'clock in the morning,
the day of thanks is here and we're home
again, home again!
If there were an aged minstrel on the
old place like the Scottish minstrels who
lived again and twanged the tuneful harp
at the beck of Sir Walter Scott: if we
could but summon some bent and hoary
farm hand who had long outlived his use
fulness as wielder of scythe and hoe and
instructor of the half weaned calf that
must be taught to draw bis. future. lac
THANKSGIVING PROCLAMATION OF
"The season is nigh when, according to the time-hallowed custom of
our people, the president appoints a day as the especial occasion for
praise and thanksgiving1 to (Jod.
This thanksgiving finds the people still bowed with sorrow for the
death of a great and good president. We mourn President JicKinIey.be-'
cause we so loved and honored him; and the mannerf his death should
awaken in the breasts of our eople a keen anxiety for the country,
and at the same time a resolute purpose not to be driven by any cal
amity from the path of strong, orderly, popular liberty, which as a
nation we have thus far safely trod.
"Yet in spite of this disaster it is nevertheless true that no people on
earth have such abundant cause for thanksgiving as we have. The past
year In particular has been of peace ami plenty. We have prospered
in things material, and have been able to work for our own uplifting
in things intellectual and spiritual. -Let us remember that, ns much has
been given us, much will be expected from us; and that true homage
comes from the heart as well as from the lips, and shows itself
in deeds. We can best prove our thankfulness to the Almighty by
the way in which on this earth and at this time each of us does his
duty to his fellow men.
"Now, therefore, I, Theodore Roosevelt, president of the United
States, do hereby designate as a day of general thanksgiving, Thurs
day, the 2Sth of this present November, and do recommend that
throughout the land the people cease from their wonted occupations,
and at their several homes and places of worship reverently thank the
Giver of All Good for the countless blessings of our national life.
"In witness whereof. I have hereunto set my hand, and caused the
seal of the United States to be affixed.
"Done at the city of Washington, this second tlay of November, in
the year of our Lord. One Thousand,. Nine Hundred and One, and of
the independence of the United States the one hundred and twenty
Bbrth. "TIIKODOKE EOOSEVELT."
teal sustenance from a pail If there were
such a bard who was merely retained be
cause be could extract melody from a
lyre, lute, harp or plain, everyday guitar,
banjo or fiddle and compose reminiscent
poetry in unlimited quantities at a mo
ment's notice, be should at once le led in
to sing the praises of tbe farm, the home,
the harvest and tbe day of thanks.
Not tfcat roses are the sole output of a
farm. There are weeds, weeds, weeds
that seem to grow with
the speed of Jonah's
gourd and must be dis
couraged by the man
with the hoe. There is
hard work a-plenty from
early morn to dewy eve.
There are endless fields
to be plowed and har
rowed and planted and
mowed, and there are
the same old cows
such a numler of them
that must le driven in
from pasture in the
meadows or sought for
in their hiding places in
the woods and milked
The married daugh
ter and her bus
band. corning and night, night and niorn
irg, over and over again. There is the
winter's wood that must be cut and
corded and left to dry for other winters
yet to come. There are horses to be fed
and groomed and doctored and pigs to be
catered to and butchered. There are
orchards to le pruned and grafted and
endless fences to be built or repaired.
There is apparently something to In? done
every minute, some bug or worm or beast
or bird to be fought with, or the coveted
crops wil! come to naught.
And yet fJod bless the farm for its
pure food, for its pure, bracing, health
giving air; for its nights of sound, dream
less, invigorating sleep: for its springs of
cool, clear water; for its brooks that go
on forever" and its trees that shade tne
brow and rest the eye, for its simple,
primitive, natural, common senso life and
its religious, moral atmosphere; for its
bounteous crops and for the lone and
brawn and endurance it gives those who
toil in its fields!
So lead in the aged hired man, the bard
of Ceres after the dinner has been dis
posed of, of course, for music always
sounds better when it isn't delaying the
play of knife and fork. J-t him tune up
his lyre, and to the accompaniment of its
6weet strains awaken the happy memories
of life ou the farm memories that are
dear to a loy even if he has deserted the
farm at an early age for the glnre and
glitter of some great city, memories that
call him back to the old home when
Thanksgiving day has come again.
There's a time for play ns well ns a time
for work on the farm.
there are roses as well
as weeds, and the bard
of Ceres will strike a
responsive chord on the
heartstrings of the farm
bred boy when he sitigs
of the old swimming
hole iu a bend of the
brook where a deep dive
meant a bump on the
V"j3 : brow that would make
or enthuse, and where
an ardent swimmer
could swim at least four
Sister Sue and
feet before be struck the grass fringed
bank. In fancy I can hear the bard's
lyre and brief snatches of his song:
I tine; of the brook, where as boys we went
Tbe brook in the mead where we pa1
dled and dove.
Where after a rainstorm the green banks
Where Sol threw off brat like the top of
I sins ol the brook and its waters to cool
ing To hot, dusty limbs and to lips that
I sins of tweet hours of skylarking and
Of wi'll knotted shirts, oh, to hard to
There is a change in the tunc and the
subject, and the ever cool, ever faithful
spring of boyhood days now inspires the
I ting of tbe spring and its barrel deep
The spot which we sought on a hot sum
I ting of the spring and the nectar we're
In spare moments stolen from work aod
slow clear and how cold was the wattr
Tbe water that came from the heart of
O e bill,
As. bending, we drank of this fountain
As lipping its bosom we -drank to our
Was there ever uch a healthful, re
freshing, invigorating drink as that? May
the water prite"who dwells in the "heart
of the hill" never get tired or Iniy or take
a day off for ages to come! The fetters
of winter are making a futile effort to
close about yon today, O spring, and the
thirst of November is not the thirst .of
July, but your charm Is so potent that
months hence we shall forget the day of
thanks is nt a midsum
mer day and shall come
back to the old farm
again to quaff your wa
ters. Ami. though July
may not be November,
that day will be a day
of thanks indeed.
Once more the old
bard sings, and as we
listen we do not even
glance through the win
dow . across the snow
covered road, for ia The turkey Is
fancy we can see the cri-p and brown,
towering maples and smell the smoke of
the sugar bush lire:
I aing of the maple that stand on the
Knee ilit-p in the drifta that the wintt-r
I i.r.g of the maples thst rise from the
And rend forth their ve.-toes on sun-
The bright, cleaminj buckets with np
are o'erfkm inft.
The aocharinc sap that such fine suar
The fires 'neath the puns in the bush are
There's sirup a-plenty for new buck
What fun there was in the old sugar
bush as we plowed through the snow aft
er the sap buckets, at times scaring a cot
ton tailed rabbit from hur mating place
in the brush, or as we dropped the new
sugar in the snow to cool it for the feast
so eagerly anticipated! How sweet the
sap was as we would tip a bucket now
and then aud driuk, drink, drink, and how
we enjoyed the stories the hired m:iu and
father would tell when the dark came
and we hugged the fire, looking appre
hensively over our shoulders, about pi
rates and ghosts and murderers and he
roes of the Revolution who always whip
pod or outwitted the Hritish and never
got whipped or caught themselves! A
place well worth remembering aud sing
ing alxmt is the old sugar bush.
And yet again the bard sings of the
haymows filled with soft, sweet scented
hay. in which we pl:iy hide and seek and
tumble to our hearts delight; of the great
swamp near by in which we hunted, the
great blue heron, of the willows where
the woodcock hid and of the wide stretch
er of forest where the
partridge drummed up
on a log and the gray
among the leaves or
darted up the trunks of
greut trees the trees
carefully aud nnnoy
ingly interposed be
tween them and the boy
with the gun.
And ns he sings of
these and other happy
scenes of boyhood on
the farm we know why
it is that the old place
is such a mngnet to
Stories about pi
rales and ghosts.
those who have left it. why with potent
and tender but invisible fingers it draws
us back when the harvest is over, when
the fields are under their blankets of
snow, when that greatest of all home
days. Thanksgiving, is with us once more.
WHY DON'T YOU LAUGH?
Merriment Daring; Meals Ia the Greatest
Medicine For l)ypepsla.
A writer in The- Speaker of London
calls attention to the. value cf conversa
tion at meals as an aid to digestion. He
Bays with truth that the frugal repast
eaten in silence ia more harmful than
a copious one enjoyed in the society of
gay and vivacious companions.
He asserts that an English dinner is,
as a rule, a funereal rite of taciturnity,
and that his countrymen reserve all of
their talk for the political platform and
sessions of parliament. Tho writer in
The Speaker contrasts this habit of the
English with that of Americans and
Frenchmen, who, he maintains, are lo
quacious at meals. So far as the latter
are concerned, he is correct, but his as
sertion in regard to the former is only
partly true. To those- who have given
attention to this subject the habit of
our people who take their meals at ho
tels or more notable- restaurants is, dur
ing their repasts, one of timid hesitation
in indulging in conversation. Men and
women seated at tho same table are
more than sparing of words. Each sepa
rate group appears to be oppressed with
fears of the others. Oblique looks and
an occasional sentence, utered in low
tones, take the place of animated talk.
Those who are eating have an air of
furtive apprehensiveness. The writer in
The Speaker has probably drawn his
conclusions in regard to the vivacity of
Americans at meals from experience at
minor French and other foreign restau
rants in this country. In those the fu
nereal taciturnity that oppresses our
men and women who take their meals
at pretentious establishments collapses
under the inspiration of example and
unconventional environment, and with
almost boisterous gayety they give free
impulse to a natural love of conversa
tion. Telegraph Lines.
A German expert, after a careful es
timate, has announced that tbe total
length of telegraph lines in the world is
1,063,700 miles, of which America has
545,600 miles; Europe, 880,700; Asia,
67,400; Africa, 21,500, and Australia,
47,500 miles. The United States has a
greater length than any other country,
403,900 miles, and Russia comes next,
although European Russia has only 81,
000 miles. The other countries follow
in this order: Germany, France, Austria-Hungary,
British India, Mexico, tho
United Kingdom, Canada, Italy, Tur
key, the Argentine Republic, Spain and
Chile. In point of proportion, however.
Belgium leads, with 409 miles of wire
for every 1,000 square miles of territory;
Germany comes next with 850 miles;
Holland is only slightly behind Ger
many, and the United Kingdom has 280
miles of telegraph for every 1,000 miles
A Thanksgiving Sketch by
"Speakiu' of widders," remarked old
Courtm Always as he cut a huge slice of
tobacco from Si Munchin's plug, "did I
ever tell ye about my Thanksgivin with
the Widder Killem?"
"Nope." said Sh ruefully regarding the
inroad thnt hadf been made upon bis
"Nope; that must be a lie ye niu't fa
vored us with yit."
'Taiu't no he. Si Munchin." old Court
la Always protested as eloquently as a
"TOE WIDDUC BOrfiHT SOME SOAP AN'
full maw would permit, "an I kin bring1
alTydavids to prove every dern statement
thnt I make. Not only that, but I'll bet
!?7."0 that what 1 say is the undiluted
truth. A-scrawny, freckled, bowlcgged.
baldheaded galoot like ye that no pretty
widder on earth would walk acrost a
mini puddle on uatchly don't believe wid
ders will walk on enuybuddy, but I know
better, fer 1"
"Aw, shet up and give us yer lie!" cried
"Well, this yere Widder Killem was
about ns trim an neat a bit of parlor
furniture as ye'll often sec in the widder
line. She was about tuejnin height, with
black hair an' snnppin black eyes,
cheeks like n couple of roses an' a figger
C)ld ("ntirtin rolled his eyes heavenward
and completed his description of the
widow's charms in a silence more elo
quent tliati words.
"She hndti't been in Little Joker three
days lief ore every man iu the place was
wearin his best togs an protueuadin
p:ist her cabin fourteen times a day.
Natchly I was as dead gone as the gang,
an' she seemed to cotton to me a henp
stronger!! she did to i-nny of the boys."
"Natchly!" grunted the sarcastic Si.
"When it conies to lady killin', ye're a
bird. Nothin kin head ye!"
"1 was the regular licensed pharuiycist
in ttoiizeley's drug store at that time, an
! if I do say it I could stampede the hull
outht in thetn days mixiu' pizen. The
widder Itought some snap an things, au
I kinder got acquainted with her afore
cimy of the boys. The day afore Thanks
givin' 1 walked about thirty miles to
shoot a wihl turkey, an' when I made the
widder a present of it at her cabin
blamed if she diiin't invite me to ent it
with her next day. Ye see. the widder
had a squaw an' a Chiiiauian livin with
her ns servants, au the invite didn't do
no partie'lar havoc to the rules of etticatt.
"Dunn" the nienl I made some piny
shout bein thankful, an' she allowed that
I had good reason to be. Then 1 said that
she, bein a widder an' all alone, couldn't
feel so very thankful, but she observed
that she was thankful jest the same an'
that, widder er no widder, she was per
fectly able to look out for number one.
' 'Itein' a widder.' says I. Intighin kind
er sly. I was coddlin' the rose colored
hope in my buzzum that possibly ye was
looking out for number two. says I.
" 'No;' says she; "I don't have to. Am
bitious aspirauts fer number two is
comin' my way in droves. Down at
Keno Gulch a bnldlieailed old individual
named Doe came sparkin around, an'
the third day he was filled plumb full of
lead by some party to the jury unknown.
Another gay old feller named Smith
"Ifair Dye" Smith they called him was
linufcin' around three days, an the night
of the third day some party to this yere
jury also unknown slips a knife into him
in seventeen places. Then another feller
named CJray "Cupid" 11 ray came court
in' five days, nn the sixth he was found
dead in the Wingdam road with sis bul
lets in his frame.
" 'An that's why I was agreein' with
you about bein thankful, she says, smil
In like a tingel. 'You've been prancin
on' cavortin' around this yere cabin fer
seven hull days an' ain't dead yit!
"'What's thatV I says, with a gasp,
renchin' to see if my shootin irons was in
place an' expectia' every minute to git a
dose of cold lead in the back.
" 'The fact is,' says she frankly 'the
fact is that I ain't really a widder'
" 'Hey? snys I.
"'No grass. says she. 'An I have a
mighty strong suspicion that number one
"what's that r
Is stayin' awake nights pretty , reg'lar
lookin' fer ambitious number twos with a
brace of guns.' "
"An was her s'picions well founded?"
asked Si Munchin, who had become in
terested in spite of himself.
"I had reasons to think bo," old Courtin
"And them reasons was?'
"Two bullets through my hat an one
through my shoulder that Thanksgivin
afternoon when I came away."
A Silver JLiainar.
No tongue or pen can even faintly ex
press the gloom into which the people of
the nation were plunged but two months
ago. No individual soul, however deep
the personal grief, ' could measure the
weight of sorrow provoked by . the as
a88in'a bullet. One needed to witness
aim to snare in tne puonc grter in oraer
to comprehend the emotions of a 'whole
nation aroused and outraged. Aud. yet.
through the unspeakable darkness which
prevailed when William McKiuley was
borne to his tomb, there streamed a light
of inextinguishable glory. In all the land
there was not one discordant note: no
voice was heard but the voice of devotion;
no song uplifted but the anthem of woe.
So strange and impressive was this uni
versal mourning that the sad event, per
haps more than any other in the last
generation at least, gave cause for a-"
tional thankfulness and congratulation.
Stirred ta their depths, the hearts of four
score millions throbbed in unison. This
noble tribute, then, to a martyred presi
dent was also a tribute to the living, who
thus nobly made manifest an earthly sor
row and a heavenly faith.
. HE HAD A GOOD MEMORY.
Dow a liright Young American Astonished
Some Smart tJerman Officers.
A story is told of n bright young
American and several German officers
who at a dinner oue evening set out to
make him uncomfortable by chaffing
him about his country. Theyonug man
is Albert H. Washburn, tbe United
States consular agent ut Magdeburg.
Henry F. ilerritt, consul at Chemnitz,
was tho first one of tho Americans at
tacked with a taunt from one of the
Germans that he could not give the
names of the presidents of the United
States. Merritt named them over with
some deliberation and drew from his
German friend the declaration that he
did not believe there was another Amer
ican present who could do it.
Young Washburn had said nothing
until now, but ho broke in and declared,
"I can do it, and I will give you the
vice presidents. " He was about to begin
When a second thought struck him, and
he said, "While I am about it, I might
as well give yon tho secretaries of state
too." The Germans got down a book
giving tho names and kept tabs on the
young man as he correctly went through
the list. They were pretty well backed
down already, but Washburn had no
idea of letting them off to easily. "Now,
I should like to know," he said, "wheth
er any of you can give the names of tbe
I'rnssian rulers from the time of Charle
magne and his sons down to tho Emper
Not one of them could go half through
tho list, and they were on the point of
apologizing to tho young Massachusetts
scholar when he took them down still
more by modestly suggesting, "Perhaps
I had better do it for you. " Ho began
with Charlemagne and went through
the list without a brenk, ranch to tbe
astouishmeut of his German hosts aud
the delight of Consul Edwards and the
other Americans. "How did you doit?"
asked Alerritt. "Oh, my father had a
taste for such things and taught them
to me when I was u boy, and, you see,
they are sometimes useful to know," he
replied. San Francisco Examiner.
NONEY AND MUSIC.
flow Somo Famous Composer Were Paid
For Their IJrill int Creations.
Handel, had it not been for his ora
torios and his operatic speculations,
would have lived mid died as poor as
tho proverbial church monsp. Walsh,
his publisher, paid him pitiful prices
for liia operas. For at least 1 1 of these
woiks he received no more thtui 25 guin
eas each, and tho largest sum ho was
ever paid was only 10.1, which he got
for "Alexander's Feast." It must not
lie thought from these small prices that
the composer's works did not sell. On
the contrary, they always found a ready
market and proved a great source of
profit to the publisher. From the pro
ceeds of his first opera, 1 "liiualdn, "
Walsh netted a proiit of over 1,500,
whereupon Handel jocularly remarked
to the music seller, "Well, you shall
coinposetho next opera, and I will pub
lish it." Handel, as everybody knows,
lost a fortune in trying to establish Ital
ian ojiera in Loudon, and, although he
subsequently rnoro than recouped him
self by his oratorios, it was not the pub
lisher, but the public, who put it in his
power to do this.
Even when we come down to tho time
of Mozart, wo do not find that tho claim
of the brain worker to a fair wage had
been recognized. It almost staggers one
to recall tho fact that "Don Giovanni"
brought to its composer no more than
20. For "Tho Magic Flute" he was
paid just 100 ducats, and yet the man
ager of tho theater at which tho opera
was first produced made a fortune out
9f it. No wonder Mozart had to bo laid
in a pauper's grave, tho very Bite of
which is unknown to this day. Schu
bert fared even worse.- Some of his mag
nificent songs sold for less than a shil
ling, and at his decease it was difficult
to raise enough money to bury him.
Haydn's income would today be deemed
6mall by a player in tho theater or
chestra, and his "estate" was almost a
minus quantity. Weber, who died about
70 years ago, received less than 800 in
all for his "Freischutz, " ono of the
most popnlar operas ever written, while
from his five other operas he made only
1,000 altogether. By "Tho Bohemian
Girl" Balfo gained less than 1,500,
although tho "Marblo Halls" ballad in
that very popular work put some 3,000
into the pockets of the publishers.
A Mlathir Frd In Store.
One of these days the thr.ee hundredth
anniverkiiry of the founding of Thanks
giving will happen along. If it is kept in
the spirit of most centenaries, what
heavy and long drawn out feasting there
The czar of Russia is said to have
among his household an understudy.
Bingularly like him in appearance, who
shows himself at the windows of rail
way carriages and the like when his
majesty does not wish to be disturbed. .
The 6vallow has a larger mouth, in
proportion to its 6ize, than any other
bird. He needs it too, for he does all
his feeding on the wing, and a big
mouth is a great convenience. - j
OF LONG, LONG AGO
BY M. K.
Cspyrirttt. Vm, by F. L. Pollard.
HE turkey in all its all
round greatness was
capering on the campus
of man's joy long be
fore Thanksgiving day
became one of tbe
country's gladdest and
most gloi ions institu
tions, and it is quite
likely that the gobbler of that remote
period often shook his head ami won
dered what he was ever put upon the
earth for, for in those slow, humdrum
days the natives had not so much to be
thankful for as we have in these times
of wireless telegraphy and politics, fish
less fishballs, jokeless jokes, Pasteur
ized tea biscuits and other luxuries that
would have been regarded as the result
of witchcraft at that time. It is the
opinion of many deep and profound
thinkers that the only thing the natives
of the early colonial period had to be
thankful for was that they had been
able to escape the tomahawk of the
aborigine that was frequently projected
not entirely in the interests of artificial
baldness. And it is likewise believed that
this thankfulness and all round grati
tude that filled the hearts of our worthy
ancestors were the combination that led
to tho appointment of a certain day for
a general feasting and thanksgiving. In
snort, a reward was made to tit the
heartfelt gratitude. There is a great deal
of difference between feeling thankful for
simply lH-ing alive and grateful for that
condition of joy that takes possession of
and camps out on ones soul when one
suddenly gathers an unlooked for and
. imbaukcd on legacy.
I How could the early settler have been
thankful for that which he had not?
The early settler had not an automobile
to make his heart overflow with thanks,
which it would have done, as the vehicle
in question would have enabled him to
glide gracefully away from the hand
painted savage, who would have found
it more difficult to decorate him with an
arrow when flitting awheel than when
1 And then the people of that long ago
historic time didn't have bridge wbist to
while away the evenings, and they didn't
have tennis as a sport or means of social
advancement. They hadn't even dreamed
of such a game ns baseball, with all its
attendant attractions, auch as sliding for
. home on the eyeballs and the utter demo
lition of the umpire's facial beauty. And
their farms had no real value at the time,
as they were only available for purposes
; of agriculture aud not as golf links, be-
' cause golf had not yet been imported
from Scotland. And instead of chasing
the whistling gutta percha sphere across
the twinkling green they chased the pi
bald equine that was held down on the
earth securely by the plow, while they
discoursed dainty melodies on his flanks
with a hickory stick that had the desired
effect of keeping him moving athwart the
field in the pristine ragtime of that airy
And how could the antique spinster
with the corkscrew curls have felt so
very thankful while working at the spin
ning wheel that was not a sewing ma
chine and, besides, had no value whatever
as an tvsthetic ornament? How could
she have been thankful when she had a
harpsichord instead of a grand piano and
had to play on it with her hands instend
of playing it with a machine that is work
ed by foot? And then she knew no such
exhilaration and excitement as are sup
plied by the department store that serves
a table d'hote dinner for 7 cents, witn
music thrown in to aid digestion.
There were no continuous performances
in those days except the continuous per
formance of such duties as put sole leath
er palms on the hands and caused the
anatomy to ripple in a wild undulation
of miscellaneous lirtnps. They had no
Wall street in which to take a flier iu
fact, all the flying they did was when
they flew from the hawk (the tomahawk)
with might and main to get through the
front door in time to slam it again at the
Itomanesque proboscis of the hostile red
And what had they to be thankful for
in the way of a roof garden when the
starry summer nights were upon them
and the cabbage leaf had withered in the
broad brimmed hat?' There was no such
resort, with up to date music and songs,
with jugglers and acrobats, domestic aud
imported, to while away the moonlight
hours, and there was no long refreshing
summer driuk to take the cobwebs of
care out of their throats. They hadn't
bicycles from which to be thrown in fa
vor of the surgeon, and there was not a
trolley to whirl them along at the highest
rate of speed allowed by law, and, with
out all these things which we have to
day, they didn't have a geueral day of
thenksgtving before XG'JO or l(i21. The
turkey strutted about without a penalty
on his head. He could roost in peace
without being plucked from tbe bough,
like a watermelon, and so he lived all
uuriifiled. ..in, the full knowledge of the
THANKSGIVING PROCLAMATION OF
"Following the example of the President of the United States, who
has, in accordance with the time-honored precedent made by George
Washington, the illustrious father of his country, proclaimed Thursday,
the 2Sth day of November, ns a day of public thanksgiving and prayer
to Almighty God for the many blessings of the preceding year, I
Kichard Yates, governor of the state of Illinois, do hereby proclaim and
set apart Thursday, Nov. 28, A. D. 1901, as' Thanksgiving day.
'i'htntgh tbe coming of this Thanksgiving day still finds the people
of our great and beloved state overwhelmed with the grief brought em
them by the loss of a beloved president, yet, in spite of this calamit',
the people of Illinois have much cause for thanksgiving. Conditons
of prosperity prevail throughout our state. Our crops have been sub
stantial. Labor has had employment. No epidemics or plagues have
been visited upon us. Withal, the future is brighter and more attrac
tive than ever before.
''Therefore, to the end that we may with thankful hearts show ap
preciation of the tender care of our Heavenly Father, I advise that on
this day, so far as may be practicable, we lay aside our usual cares
ami labors and join together in religious exercises and devout prayers
to God, forgetting not the sick, the needy an! the poor.
"In testimony whereof I have hereunto Set my hand and caused the
great seal of the state to be affixedin the city of Springfield, the capi
tal, this 7th day of November. "KICHARD YATES."
ract mat no wouio always De iiKewise
unraflled. And whenever he was eaten
the diner was thankful, and it was all
he had and yet quite enough to be thank
ful for. And when we think of all the
things that we have to le thankful for
in .the way of every kind of all round
blessing we think it would take twenty
or thirty Thanksgiving days a year to
enable us to properly offer up the thanks
that blossom in our hearts, while we ad
mire and wonder at the gratitude of our
time honored ancestors who were quite
as thankful ns we, although they didn't
live in the enjoyment of progressive eu
chre and bargain counters, each of which
is a veritable fairy dream unto itself.
A LAND FREE FROM WANT.
Neither Frost Nor Drought BanlaTbea
. Joy In America.
This is one of the seasons to find com
fort in the fact that "enough is as good
as a feast" and that the national area is
so vast that it embraces a variety of
climate and soil. Here too much rain
and there too little at certain stages of
vegetation may lead to forebodings for
the future, but fortunately there is a
way of evening things up. The failure
of one crop in a given locality may mean
comparative scarcity for that section, but
another crop yields abundantly and is in
high demand for some distant market.
If there is no revelry in abundance this
year, there will be no rotting in the
ground for want of consumers. If it is
hard to bo face to face with the failure
of crops, it is also hard, after all the labor
of planting and cultivating and gathering,
to find the market overflowing and prices
far below a paying rate. An overflowing
harvest gives no joy to the producer if
he cannot even find hungry mouths to
feed gratis. This superabundant yield,
answering to overproduction in the manu
facturing world, has often happened since
vast areas have been devoted, to raising
perishable fruits and vegetables.
Starvation and famine have nest to no
"meaning in America, and for that the
masses annually render thanks even In
rears of local scarcity. The statement
that there are no suffering poor in Amer
ica like those in most countries of the
old world goes unchallenged. Even the
failures of society may still eat, drink
and be merry on all proper occasions.
This one day of the year, when feasting
is almost a matter of duty as well as cus
tom, the humblest home is a center of
plenty and thankfulness.
A Chance to Get Even.
M r s. Mincepie I
T wanted to take a nap
this afternoon, but that
horrid little Johnny
Green kept me awake
with his drum.
Mr. Mincepie Never
mind, darling. When
jj he eats you on Thanks
giving, you n Keep mm
awake for a week.
Her TLaat Worda.
Mr. Gobble Well.
Pauline, I see old
Farmer Briggs coming
after his Thanksgiving
dinner, and you're the
only one in the family
fat enough to kill. Any
thing I can do for you
before you go?
Mrs. G o b I) I e Yes,
Bill. Tell me if my
hat's on straight?
Sad, bat Trae.
Oh, ask me not, re pigs of
About Thanksgiving cheer!
I've aeen it come and seen
For, lo, these many year.
You're young and fat and
Alas, that I should boast.
For well I know that one of
doomed to get a roaat!
Tio Doubt of It,
First Turkey Did you f
notice- how flustrated i
Mr. Gobbler looked
when the farmer caught
Second Turkey Yes,
and he'll probably lose
bis bead completely pret
A. B. Lewis.
Great tonic, braces body and brain,
drives away all impurities from your
system. Makes you well. Keeps yon
well. Rocky Mountain Tea. 35c. T.
II. Thomas druggist.