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The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, December 05, 1888, Image 6

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THANKSGIVING.
TCfcca the trees are gray and bar*
Ami the snow is in the air,
i An} the frost is in the soil.
Ami the yellow golden-rod,
lib? a fa iing sunset light,
Wiiiyrs in a blackening blight;
&?} the dead leaves to and fro
Uhirl about as the north winds blow?
Tbrv come< the old Thanksgiving time,
\V>vh hearts in fes'al meetings ehiuia.
W&s-n gay youth no longer sings
R* dear enrols of it1? spriugs,
Asri old age with stealthy tread
Up be hind us st; als, to shed
ft inter snows upon the head:
Y?? with age's frost nil i snow
Sn'jigs a light whose steady glovr
mi iun ;r radiance scorns
Tboi..-btiess you h's best ni^ht; and morns,
Thin eomos the old Thanksgiving time,
awakes a loftier rhyme.
for an mar. ouu is uj> mo
Wish its changing calm ami strife
was?the given base
Fyoa which I now can pla -e
TVhat poor figure I may have wrought
Ihil of all my life and thought?
ihe priceless providence
Thai bath ruade each nerve and sense
?f saj boyhood but the germ
"Sff a growth more full and firm?
V./ Jbr the blest inheritance
i*f my parents' blood?for chance
lira, and fate and circumstanceFar
the joy and sorrow turned
Sato ho|-e?for wisdom learned
Jcoin my folly?faith from doubt:?
A?J within me or without
Tiat hath helped the spirit weak
J&s best life and truth to seek:?
fnra'l this, and more that, blind,
Irannot recall to mind?
Thofits on this Thanksgiving day
3 would render as I may:?
Iki ihis dull gray day when earth
Sash no smile of spring or mirth,
Aad tiie dead leaves to and fro
"TWirl about as the north winds blow.
Christopher P. Cranch.
JL POOR MANS THANKSGIVING.
.3*1 him who eats not, think he eats,
"Tis one to him who las* year said,
neighbor dines on dainty sweets
And I on coarser bread."
/i- 3f? who on sugar angels fares
Hath pangs beneath his silken vest;
?he rougher life hath fewer cares?
WLo fasts hath sounder rest
flK# ft
2 lean the body, light the wings;
His fancy hath more verge and room
Who feasts upon the wind tliat brings
The flowers of hope to bloom.
So. if no smoking turkey grace
This day my clean but humble board,
151 think what might have been my case
II rich, and thank the Lord.
S?gout awaits my coming age,
So bulbous nose like lobster red,
Jo rex my temper into rage,
Or fill my days with dread.
l*r?ve to the rich his roast and wine;
Death waits on him who waits for all;
Ito doctor will be there by nine,
By twelve the priest will calL
Latd, in all who'.esome, moderate ways
Ktvp me, lest it should hap be worse;
Tench one to fill bis moutb with praise
"fTho never filled his purse.
?F. B. Plympton.
THE UNPIiOBATED WILL
A THANKSGIVING STORY.
J O O R aa John :
Austin was, he ,
0 ^ was made more i
0 r? desperate by the ,
w return of the fa- I
g ther of his wife j
1 (believed to be '
ijtfMvl deadi who came !
?/ a**?// home *? tbem !
r broken in health j
iWlm*) a silent, "queer" I
ft??' maa> a3 the Peo" j
J? 'rfr^ ^'e ^eac j
Austin was a lit- J
tie girl the now j
jM nan had left her mother and her- j
?lf to battle with the world. Ko one j
ikwtw whv or whither he had gone.
For twenty-five years nothing had 1
Been heard of or from him. In the mean- ;
*5a?e the mother had died, the daughter j
.married, and several little olive branches J
lad co.T.e to twine around the hearts of
tbe father nnd mother and make the
' tfraggle for bread still more imperative. |
For half a dozen years the old man
fagered rather than lived, apparently j
ynrpceeless save to wander in the woods j
mrowid the little inland village in sum- '
aer, shiver over the lire in winter and j
wstantlv mutter to himself. Then he J
j*ietly faded out from among the living i
sod was laid to rest in the desolate J
jarejard.
? ' S
^1H' *
?f where he had been during h<s long
itemce he never talked; what he had .
-dune was never known. Ilis reap ear- !
aace was as sudden and unexplained a9
iris departure, lie came on foot and
lone, and the only thing certain about
him was his poverty.
The expense of his "keeping" had
been a serious drawback to the prosperity !
?f the daughter ami her husband; those
connected w th his last sickness and i
death heavy. A si:-^le dollar added to |
lhc outlay of any m m whose only can- ;
Bfftxl is his hands and only incoiuc is from
Atiiy toil is no li^ht aliair.
But n week previous to Thankgiviti" i
iisc funeral had taken place?used up 1
lhc lust dollar of ready money and left a <
debt to be paid. In the flickering li?ht
of {he fire hu -band and wife sat sadly
discussing the outlook, and gloomy indeed
it was. The last of the little brood
iad been tucked into bed, the lierce wind
iJ the Northern Winter wa< howling
without, the stars shone brightly but
xoldly, and the low, heavy banks of
sloud> gave notice of a fierce snowstorm,
*nd the poor know but too bitterly what
&&t means for them.
"John." said his wife, after a long silence
and with a heavy sigh, "to-morrow
will be Thanksgiving, and the children
ure reckon:ng upon a good dinner."
(.V
" ...v ?
"Yes," he replied, with his head re
bowed and tears in his eves, "but the gi
good Lord only knows where it is to a?
come from. The care and death of your di
| futher?1 don't say it complaining, wife, tl
lor you have repaid it a thousand time- a
?has not only taken the last rent, but v<
left us a debt it will taice months to pay. ai
However, the darlings shan't be disap- si
poiuied if I can help it, anil if you can
manage the pies and little things I'll sec w
what can be done about getting some- ti
thinir in the shape of meat, lleigh ho!
I what a nrscrablc thing it is lo he poor y<
and never have any money when you need ni
I it most." st
'"Yes, dear, it is hard; but we have te
health, strength, and the little ones, and
that is very much to he thankful lor."
".\nd many a rich man would give bl
more than the sum necessary to make us w
coinfortab'e for our appetites and the si
sound sieep we enjoy." ar
Little knew they of the storm that ?
rocked their little cottage and drifted l><
the snow around it. But with the morning
light they saw it and with a sinking hi
of heart. It was as a deatli blow to the in
plans .John Austin had made for their hi
Thanksgiving dinner. He had iriduiged nr
in no lanciful dreams of turkey and a
huge chicken pie, of salad and jelly, tli
They were as far beyond his means as si
oyster pate, terrapin, canvas-back and lo
champagne. A practical man. he h id nr
thought out no sumptuous or elnboratc ea
menu, but had resolved to be up early,
take his gun, go to the woods and sec if
he could not ' knock over" something
for a Thanksgiving feast.
I'nder ordinary circumstances hunting
would have been recreation and one
seldom indulged in, for necessity com"
-?._J i-t 4?wr in
peuea unin;errupicu iuu<>r. i? utn ;
he whistled under his breath as he saw
how deep was the snow, strong the wind
and freezing the air. But it wits Thanksgiving
and the children mu.>t not be disappointed.
:-o, after building a l ousing
fire a d bringing in plenty oi wood, he qx
k ssed his wife, promised to be back as
early as pos-iblc, took his gun and
staited unon the uncertain quest, for
game, like money, has a perversa fashion re
of being out of the way when most 0f
wanted. ce
Tramping along over the unbroken
fields aud in the full sweep of the icy br
blasts, he was glad to reach a little ht
grove where he could find shelter and
regain his breath. He seated himself W(
upon a stump and to him came the dj
greatest temptation of his life. In a ,r(
tree, within easy shot, roosted numerous ^
turkeys. Hutch d from the eggs of m
wild ones and with the distinctive
foofVioi- mnrL'o it: nrnilld lip tllfi ft;l?iest V.,
thing to secure one and p;iss it off. if ar
seen, as legitimate j?ame. Great fat, ?>
luscious fowls they were and the vision 'jf!
of how happy his wile and children w
would be in the eating aro-e before fe
h m. jjg
Almost before he was aware of the act w
his gun was raised and aim taken. Then w
conscience whispered: ''They are not w
yours, .lohn Austin," and turning his fr
step* away he answered mentally if not a
vocally: ".No, and I'm not going to be a w
thief, even for a Thanksgiving dinner."
Pushing on again over the broad w:
meadow he struck the road?an unbroken wi
one now?that led to the forest where to
game was likely to be found, and was at
passing tne log cauin 01 a luiuuy cvcu
pooier than his own, for the husband he
wa9 lving very ill. He glanced up at ke
the chimney?the most natural thing to he
do upon such a day?anil saw no tno!<e. ev
Either the poor man must be dead or the
supply of wood had given out. In- th
stantly his owu situation was forgotten at
and he was not lonjr in linding out that ?i
his latter surmise was correct. ht
"Dou't worry," lie said t > the anxious [ gc
wife, gathering and bringing 111 all the j
wood he could find, "i'll run over to di
ne ghbor Sampson's and borrow his j w
team and yet you a load. There's lots | cli
of dead timber on this land, and he j be
isn't the meanest mau in the world by a hi
long shot.'' th
To accomplish his purpose lie was sh
forced to r< trace his steps and again look |
at the temptation of the turkeys, j in
Cerfcin'y no birds ever looked so lar^e, j of
and they stretched out. their necks and ! h?
gobbled at him in the most provoking
fashion and as if they knew what was
passing in h s mind.
"^es, John," said the farmer in answer
to his request, "take the oxen and
get as much wood a* you can haul. But
you will have to cut it. Everything
down must be snowed under except it
may be some rotten stuil' that is or' no
account."
"All right, but you will have '0 hnd '
me an axe. I started to find some gi ne
fcr dinner, but now the children will wave i
to get a'.oug w.th whatever their mother
can manage to fix up."
"Well, here's an axe, at:d you had ~
better leave your gun here till you come "
back. I'd like to use it if you can tell :
me where I will find my flock of turkeys
- the tame-wild ones 1 mean. I believe {
they kuow it's Thanksgiving and Have
run away."
Austin told h'm wlinre the birds were
to I e found, thought of how little there
would be upon his own table, and
hastened upon his errand of mercy? ^
hastened as fast as an ox te:im, discontented
with being out such a cold morning
and wading through such d-.ep snow, 1 sa
cc.uld be persuaded to go. 7.c
Tramping along after the sled Austin S1'
at last reached the woods and looked ; c,
for a convenient tree to "fall." An oak j Ijc
stood near and a tap of his ax convinced j .
him it was hollow. That suited him j j?
exactly. He could easily cut o:T a couple j
of logs, roll them upon the sled and re- '"e
ducc them to burnable si/.e afterward. ' P:'
A strong armed and willing-hearted ;
man. he was not long in separating the ! *"
trunk, drawing and unloading in front j ?
of the house of his sick friend. The |
poor wile thanked him heartily and sa.d I
her brother had come and would do the
chopping. ' oy
"All right?nc thanks," he npliel in
his hearty way. ''Hope your Thanks- 1
giving will be hrigh cr th in you antici- ??
pated. "Now I'll get my gun and see **
what I can do for my own dinner."
He had gotteu some little distance
when the woman shouted :
"You have forgotten your satchel, l,
John Austin!" Bt
"Mine." he questioned, returning,
"of course it is. You must have If
placed it in the hollow trunk and for-1
gotten it. Anyhow it rolled out and .
here i* your wife's name on it. <!iacious, j
but it. is marked plain enough." 1 qj
In mute astonishment . nhii Austin !
tooK u]> the satchel and brush-d oil the !
snow. It was a .small all;ir, I uttered,
worn, stained and ias he itftcnvaid said)
m:ght have come out of the ark. A
p.ceo of hock-kin was looped through
the hiiudlcs ;;nd ruuely marked: Jlrs. j
Jane Austin, wife of .lolin Austin and
daughter of .lames Self ridge, Bcacliton,
Pennsylvania, V. S."
He choked down a great lump that
had gathered in his throat, looked with
the most stupid surprise at the wo;ran,
then at the satchcl, and forgetting
team, gun and game started homeward
on a run. Bursting into the house he
dropped breathlessly into a chair, flung "
the satchel into the middle of the floor
and gasped oue the single word:
"There!"
"John Austin," exclaimed his wife in
the loudest key possible for her voice to
iach and with the muscles of her face
ituering lor a siorm, areii t you
ihamcd of yourself to come home
riink, and on Thanksgiving? Take
iut nasty old thing out of doors. It's
burning shime and a disgrace, and
)ii a husliand and father of a family,"
id her apron was brought into requition
to wipe away her tears.
' It's marked for you, .lane, and?
here in heaven did you get that great
irkey?"
"Farmer Fampson brortght it, and
>ur gnn, which you lost, aud if the
:'ighbors didn't take pity on us we'd
arve," was replied in very short sennces
and broken by sobs.
"But Jane?"
"Don't ' ane' me. Take that miserae,
dirty thing out and crawl o'V somchere
and go to sleep. To think I
lould have lived to see the day?and ?
id we become objects of charity?and
-and?having to be fed by the ncigh>rs,"
and up went the apron a, ain.
".Mother," broke in the eMest of the
)peruls, whose curiosity had caused an
vi.eii<T!itinn of the ssitehel. and who
id spelled out the add ess, -'it's your
ime, and such queer writing!"
Thus reinforced ohn Austin explained
iat he had found it m a lmllow log and
iggestcd thut it be opened. The wife
oked dubiously at it for an instant
id then, forgetful of anger and tears,
iclaimed:
Wi gM
>m\ w '
"It is father's writing. Open it as
lieas ever you can."
He complied. The first thing he saw
as a letter. It was written on ccaise
iner. unsealed, directed to hi3wife,and
ad: ''All for my daughter Jane, wife
.John Austin, forever and ever. James
ilfr dge.
".-ounds like a will," said the hnsi.
d. '"and we'll see what the old man
is left."
1.it tie packages tied up in buckskin
ere taken out, aod each, when opened,
sclosed gold, co ned, du-t and nugits,
evidently the savings of a mher
iner, nnd explained why he had so
nch haunted the woods
Cvercome by their unexpected fortune
lsbnnd. wife aud children gathered
ound the table upon which it had been
led. and laughed and cricd together,
be millions of merchant prince or railay
king wns nothing compared to the
w hundreds to th.;m. Then c;ime the
itural fear of being robbed, and the
calth was hastily hidden away. They
e:e too much excited to even discuss
hat they would do witn it ana were
igthened nearly into convulsions -when
loud rap was heard on the door and
ith it a command to open.
It was only their neighbor Sampson
ith more good things, and as he sat
tinning his numbed hands and feet he
Id how good John had been as to the
llictcd family.
"And, John," he said, "I saw and
lard you when talking about my lursys,
and a man who could be thus
>ue<t under so great temptation will
cr find a friend in Job tampson."
Then Austin and his wife unbosomed
cmselves, si.owed the yold, the letter
id asked advice. It was judiciously
ven and with congratulation the farmer
lrricd away, bippy at having done a
?od action.
At a late hour for "country folks''their
nner was eaten with hearts overflowing
ith thankfulness, and wlicn the stuffed
lildren were dreaming the wife stole
hind her husband, put her arms around
s neck and kissed him more warmly
an since tliodays of her courtship as
e whispered:
"To think I should accuse you of beg
drbnk! And you giviDg up all hope
your own Thanksgiving dinner to
sip others! You dear old John."
N. B.?That will was never probated.
A Runaway Couple.
4
The ri ght before Thanksgiving.
i Yotilii Asleep Fro n His Birth.
There is in a southern insane asylum,
ys the New Orleans J'icai/nne, aneigntar
old boy who lias never been awake
ice the.hour of his birth. He was the
ild of a parnlytic mother, and has
licate feature ; and a high, white foread,
with long, biack curls. His arm
not larger than an ordinary rnnn's
umb. Me lie3 on his bed year aftez
ar, taking no note of anything that
s9cs. Twice a day he is aroused
ough to take a little nourishment and
en relapses into sleep.
'he Sorrow That Follows the Joy.
"Yes," she said at breakfast table this
Drning, "I am glad Thanksgiving is
er."
"Why?'' he asked.
"Hecause.'' she replied, "because I can j
iw begin reminding you that Christma9 j
coming, and that I need a new seal- J
in sacque."?Philahlphia llcruld.
A Song of Thanksgiving.
lever had a sweet gazelle
To glad me with its soft black eyeit
1 would lov- it passing well
Baked in a rich and crusty pi?,
I could have a bird to love
Ami nestle sweetly in m}' breast,
I other nestling birds anove,
lue turkey?stu.Tod?would be that bird, j
1 the Way to Thanksgiving Services, j
$3 V
Y' 0kT \
\ . - . . . - - . *. -W1 > '/
THANKSGIVING.
t
We look to the hills for rest:
For strength we turn to the sea;
j For the boon of these, and fair bequest
Of teeming lands to the seaways, we "
With joy give thanks. n
}
j Best thanks for the favor is J
1 The fullest use of the gift: a
j And pleasure expressed is song of praise,
And praise is a prayer whereby we lift n
Unceasing thanks. t
j Nov.- at the time of the feast,
I And or bursting granaries,
Now sound of scythe on the grass has ceased,
j And reapers rest, with a smile of ease,
Do wo give thanks.
i But now at the feast, alone,
i jsutevcr, irora judo hj juut>,
While the harvest is budded and blown,
By the ghd thought of the heart in tune,
Do we give thunks.
! By ful! deep pleasure one has,'
And so by he wuet, swift joy,
j A light of color nnd bloom of grass, I
j Or the touch of winds, unceasingly "V
Do we give thanks. '<
1 For suns that mellow the fruit; y
For strong, clean winds and the snows
| Like a fold of fleece upon t:ie root 6I
Of the oak, and the root of the rose, c
Do we give thanks. a
For dews and for warm, soft rain9, ^
That infuse new blool in the wood,
For the herb and vine that flushed the lanes, j
Through waving fields at the Summer's j ,
flood, {
Do we give thanks. ]
For thrill on the line of nerves, ^
That leap in a quick response
To music's touch, and the thrill that serves a
a
As the soul's applause to eloqueace,
Do we give thanks.
; For strength of the firm, lithe limba, '
And wealth of body and long I
j Deep reach of thought, and hope that skims
j Like a bird, our heaven for light, with
song, o
vo we give inanKs.
For subtle force of the brain's n
Keen power, and the fire thereof;
For the jubilant blood in our veins, il
That leaps and bounds, when life is enough, ' h
Do we give thanks. 1
v
By vigor of brain and thought,
By reach of the sympathies, j]
By much well doing and pleasure wrought
By color of fields and flow of seas, 6
Do we give thanks. a
?Jennie Maxwell Paine, j \
HER THANKSGIVING DAY, i
; F
!a
BY 1ELEN FOREST GRAVES. i E
CCSEST LL day there had c
tt been sweeps of j
/'m stormy rain, with
ragged fringes of
h. J? {^3 cloud above the
J Nj'j S -western horizon, J
/"""O\ " Y1 and a raw chilli|^rth?o,mos
?
"im afmid'" li
C\ said .Mrs. Elston,
%?"" ?
; *v\X A dow occaionallv, '
i " " as >.he went about "
j her daily *ork, "we're goin<r to have
I a bad Thanksgiving day. Not but what ^
one ou^ht to be just its glad and thankful,
whether it rains or shlnas: but it is
provoking, when one lias invited com- .
Eany from a distance. And L'nilc "
enuel won't driue over from llayport ^
with Aunt l.hoaa. if it sno.vs; and Sue .
Starkey can't ventme out in a storm, ,
with her weak chc.?t, and everything ^
will go wrong 1"
Toward night, however, the sun fi
burst triumphantly through the clouds, .
lightning up the sombre aisle3 of the '
'? J- ?:.L ?S1
lea tibS WUUU8 Wliu 1CU ^icaiuo(| auu
touching with lines of lurid gold the
edges of the w;ives that broke sullenly ?
on Woodford Point.
"It'll be fine, after all," said Mrs. i
Elston. I
And she burst into little roulndes of
song, as she picked over the red Bald- *
win apples, set away the yel ow, earthen '
bowl of stewed cianberrie?, counted the
pies, and looked to see if the turkey Z
was all plucked and dressed, ready for
the moirow's oven. ;
For l izzie Klston kept neither cook .
nor waitress, but depended ou herself
only for all the^e household details, and j
no one understood better the necessity j
for a careful economy of time.
She had invited i nele Lemuel and c
Aunt Mhoda.from Bay port, Miss Starkcy, v
' 1 1
I uer WI1IIUUI auunuuimic, uuw . uc icui,uci ~
of the nearest district school, and Air. ,
and Mrs. Howard, who lived in the cot- '
tagc beyond the sand dunes on the
beach. '
It was the first Thanksgiving that !
Lb.>ie had ever kept, and she was de- !
tennined on having it a succcss. \ ,,
"Hut all the preparations were complete
at last, even down to the counting w
of the ancient, fiddle-shaped spoons, ^
that were an hi'irloom from Liz ie's
grandmother, and the Old cups and
plates, some blue-edged, and some cov- ,
ered with impossible landscapes, in the
dullest shade of pink? and the young '
wife, looking down the ro id, saw Frank
Elston coming up from the wharf, a J
j (lurk silhouette against tnc rca giow 01
I the sky. i
"i'll go and meet him," she said to f1
herself. . _ !"
For Lizzie had not been married long
enough to forget all these graceful mem- 1
ories of the honeymoon time. '
Frank Elston, the captain of the little
boat that plied between Bayport Land- ^
ing and the nearest large town, met her .
with a smile and a kiss. ,
is
^fv# i"
*/" V v ai
"What have you got in the I a-kct, a:
Frank f" cried Lizzie. standing 011 tiptoe fo
to peep under tho lid of t! o willow re- jj
ceptacle thai l.e carried. jj
"Oranges. puss!" s-aid he. with a nod ! j
of triumph. ' Ami some Concord grapes fc
that were left of our last consignment, i1(
and Bcttley let me have Vm cheap." i
"Oh, Frank, how nice!'' exclaimed the : ?<
housewife, clapping her hands. "It will d,
be just what 1 want to give color and fr
decoration to my tabic. And I baked .
the chicken pics to-day afier your ta
mother's recipe, and I'm sure they are m
going to be perfectly splendid!" 1 sy
"^pleodid. are they." .said Elston,
smiling good humoredly at his excited ti
little wife. "Well, i'm glad of that. : ac
But, Lizzie, I forgot to tell you -" I 0|
"What is it, Frank:" with a half- |
startled air. j h<
... . i > ...
"You're going to have some company j
bat you hadn't calculated on,'' saia he. j sh
"Who, Frank? JNot Abby Harte?"
"No. It's a wrinkled little old di
rornan, with a regular little old-fach- | zi<
oned cloak and quilted hood, with a as
10b cap under it. She's waiting at the cr
>oint for her baggage to be unloaded, so br
thought I'd jnst step up and give you cr
word of warning."
"Baggage!" cried Lizzie, in conster- j "f
ation. "What baggage? Is she going
o stay?" w<
k-'~^ : di
v Al
A 1 Hi br
n- \ !m;
Is
' ! til
"There's boxes and boxes!" said jn
'rauk, laughing. "And I've hired Billy
Villett with his wheelbarrow to hoist
jm up to the house." i
"Uut, Frank, who is it? Why don't * .
ou tell me who it is?" !
"Her name is Miss Barbara Babcock," j b?
aid the Captain of the Sea Mew. "She
omc3 from the >tate of lihode Island,
nd she says she was a sccond cousin of
our mother. And she's coming to spend fi J
'hanksgiving with you!" ! J11
"Miss Parbara JSabcock!" repeated e
.izzic, her fre>h face growing blank,
'dh, 1 know now who it ia Frank! All ?I
ho I'nlntinria na/.H tn rlrpiirl Afisn Rnrb?r;l
Sabcoeks visits. She had no home of ,n
er own, and was always wandering ;
bout the country with her fancy-work .
nd her rcccipt-book; and, oh, Frank, S1'
he was such a bore! I can't have her m
ere!" j
''All right,tnen," said Captain Elston; i A1
Til go back and tell her so. Only,
iiz/io?" : "T
"Weli?"
"Don't all this remind you a little bit ,
f the old story of the priest and the j T .
levil:" j**1
"But, Frank, when I've invited all the "?
eighbors!" i J?
"Yes, exactly so," said Frank, twist- j*"
ag the end of his red comforter around | _
lis finger. " 'Who is ray neighbor?' (
'hat's just the question that the parable
>ras intended to answer." |
Lizzie stood a minute, silenti* think- j
;th
'Don't put yourself out, my dear," an
aid the Captain; "she can get lodgings nt
t the Wharf easily enough. But she's m
ery old aud feeble, and?" |
"I understand," interrupted Lizzie; !mi
'and she's my neighbor. I'll go back, W(
''rank, and warm up one of ray chickenlies
for supper. I didn't intend to Lave y"
nything but bread and butter and cold
tigs' feet, but of course she Is tired and ' .
hilled, poor creature."
"That's my own little girl I" said j
''rank, with a caressing touch to the
tray locks which had escaped,like rings J
f spun gold from the border of Lizzie's ah
ed- worsted hood. "I know just how st(
his sort of thing puts you housekeepers gr
ut, but somehow I felt sorrow for ihe :
Id lady." , i T]
Hut Lizzie could not help marveling a tli
ittle when .Miss Harby Bab.-ock arrived Ai
n the scene. ?he was a little, dried-up N<
Id creature, with black, restless eyes, 1
cinnamon-colored "front," aud a nose dr
nd chin that met in close proximity. | an
"So you are Mary Smith's darter, are ;
ou."said she. "I can jest remember he
ou wlieu jou were a leetle girl, knee- j ^
i^h to a grasshopper, sewin' patch- : iHj
"ork. Well, I m glad I thought of coram' j
ere to spend Tiianksgiviu'. Sea air al-; m;
ays did agree with me, and that's a
leadful nice craft that your husband is (
lie SKipper ot. J. snouiunt wonuer,- i
lie added, as she began on her second |
reclge of chicken-pie, "if I made up my ! re1
lind to spend the wiDter here, and ,
nish my silk curtains. I'm a-mikin' j ca
ilk curtains, Elizabeth Ann?sewin' I tto
trips of silk together, just like you sew j l*1
arpet-rags?and when it's all done, I'm ' a I
oin' to borrow Pesire Johnson's old ! to
oom and weave 'em up into the prettiest bj
ilk curtains you ever set eyes on. It'll, ne
e a ple.s.int winter's work for you and te;
le?won't it, Elizabeth Ann.' P'raps th
ou've got some old silk gowns you in
ould sparer" she ndded, wistfully. "I dt
eed a little dark blue and satlron-color ve
-terror-cotter they call it nowadays. | of
Forks in dreadful nice." ' nc
Lizzie looked bewildered: but the 11"
aptain cheerily threw himself into the <)t
reach. j th
' Oh, we haven't arrived at the th
ignity of silk gowns yet, have we, as
Izzie?" said he. "Take some of these se
rab-apples, Miss Babcock. They're , bj
erv fine." j th
The old woman sat down in the warm th
relight, rubbing her wrinkled bauds , fir
jgether. ; sli
"It's warm and comfortable here," it
lid she. "I wonder 1 never thought of bi
amin' to Elizabeth Ann's before. De- or
re Johnson didn't want me. She said pa
Id folks was too much care. Lucy bt
filcox was too fine a lady to notice her , wi
Id Aunt I'.ariiy; and my Cousin Max- se
ell a9 good as turned me out of doors, an
i:t Kli/al.eth Ann is her mother right "W
ver again?iha kindest-hearted creetur ut
lat ever breathed. I'm glad I come h:
nro tr> Thanlfstri vin\ T micas I'll hi]
* ?? 'O"" * ~~~ * ? o ??
ay." th
She said all this aloud, in hcrslrange, pe
roakiDg voice, although she evidently sii
nagined that she was only thinking it. j wi
"Frank," whispered Mrs. Flston, ' Se
niggling close up to her husband, "I fu
link she is flighty. She's so very old, sa
;)U know; she must be eighty, at the tri
ery least." po
"Who is ray neighbor?" Frank rejonded,
softly. "i think your duty is :
lain in this in-t:tnce, my dear."
The little old relation was busy sewig
at her balls of parti-colored silk T1
rips when the Thanksgiving company co
,"rived, next day, aud she eagerly in- br
irviewed thera as to the cast-oil silk- tai
ress question.
Each was ot a different opinion, but all lis
eie adverse to the stranger. wl
"Lizzie. 1 wouldn't stand it!" cried on
[rs. Howard, a gay young neighbor, st<*
An old crone like that, to come here an
id settle light down on you, like the In
Id Woman of tiie Sea! Why, I never tin
i-ard such impudence in my life I" cli
Aunt Hhoda shook h?r he:d solemnly.
"Barbara JJabcock used to vi-?it
ou.id in York State," sa d she, "when j
lived the:e. ^he was a dreadful trial, 1
id there warn't noac of her relations ]
ut was glad to bo rid of hi;:-. I wouldn't
Ice to uisiioriake the rare of her!"
? I Jut she's old. llhoda," said i'nele
cmiic!; and she's had a stroke or two. 1
ilks -a,y. i dutino what's to become <.f
:r ei' 10li abeth Ann scuds her away."
"I won't send her away," said i i/.zie.
She shall have a home here. Frank
je-n't ob cct, and we maybe feeble and
lend less ourselves some day."
"Frauk don't know what"he's under-j
kin','' said Aunt Hhoda. "I hain't as
hi h patience with the old creetur' as I ;
tould hev had, ef she hadn't squandered
vay all her money, buvin' lottery- J
ckets. She wouldn't hear to no one's ;
1\ ice. Barbara Babcock was as
jsrinateas a mule."
But Susie Starkey nodded approval to I
sr friend.
' > ' - ' ' 1 ; / ' *4
"I think you are doing right, dear,"
e whispered.
So they all ate their Thanksgiving
nner, with many compliments to Liza's
housewifely achievements; and just
they were sitting around the lire,
acking nuts and drinking homeewed
cider, Uncle Lemuel uttered a
y of terror.
"Look at Barbara Babcock!" said he.
she's got another stroke!"
It was true. The poor little old
Vmnn linfl aiinlr rlnwn "ill in Vipnn in
ir chair, with a pleading look in her
storted face, and the words ".-.lizabelb
11 nr' quivering on her lips.
And the Thanksgiving party was
oken up in dire confusion and disay.
4,hf she was to die,'' mysteriously
bispered Aunt Ithoda, "it would be
e best thincr that could happen to her
i' all her relations!"
But Miss Barbara Bnbcock did not
ie. She lived on, a!)l winter, into the
me when crocuses began to i>loom and
c maple blossoms Mushed rediy aions;
e edges of the swamps.
All this time she was quite helpless,
d her sole pleasure was :n looking at
e balls of vivid-colored silk rags that
7.7.ic ranged daily at the foot of her
id, to amuse and quiet her.
"It'll make a dreadful pretty sort o'
irtains," she said, in the strange
ngue-tied way common to paralyt.es.
L'll finish 'em when I'm better. I'll
i'.l* 'rttv. nnfl A T* Tt C V* 1 1 Q VO
11^11 CIIJ, UUX.I 1>1I/,UUU1U UUU 0UI?1& iiU>v
m for her own."
The night before she died she suddenly
>ened her eyes.
Aunt Uhoda was sitting, needle-work
hand, by her side. ,
".Mind," said she, "them silk balls is
li7abeth Ann's. I've given 'em to her,
?:ied and sealed in the paper under
y pillow. Mind you don't forgtt!"
"Ob, I'll not forget," said placid
ant l>hoda.
With the early dawn poor Miss Barby
ent to the home where, let us hope,
ie was more welcome than she would
ive been in earthly habitations.
"I don't want the silk rags," said
izzie, when she heard of her quaint in
iritance. "Poor thing! They were a
imfort to her, but of what use could
ey be to me?"
"You'd better take'em," said Uncle
;muel. "Sell 'em to the rag man, if
iu can't make no better use of 'em."
".No!" said Lizzie. "I'll have them
oven into silk curtains, as she wanted
em to be. I can hire Melinda Proal j
id her loom for a month. And Melinda]
:cds the work." i
But when the balls of silk were un-j
D-.ind?there were a hundred of them, !
ore or less?each ball was found to be!
Dund on a ten-dollar bill, rolled intoi
Lndrical shape and doubled over.;
ud every ten-dollar bill was Lizzie Els-:
n's now. !
''She didn't spend it all for lottery ;
iketa, it seems," observed Uncle!
Nnucl.
* * V * * *
"Little girl, what are you'pondering
icuti" s:i:d the captain to Lizzie, who,
ood silently looking out upon the
eening woods.
"1 was thinking," said Lizzie, "of last
lanksgiving Day. Hotf thankful I ami
at you wouldn't let me send poor old'
nut Barbara back to i hode Island!;
:>t only because of the money, but that;
ivas able to take care of her all thateury
winter when she was so helpless,
d had no friend but me."
The captain patted Lizzie's bright
ad.
"So you're keeping your Thanksgiv
g Day yet:" said he tenderly.
"Yes," Lizzie answered, "I'm keeping
j Thanksgiving Day yet I"
'ooking the Thanksgiving Tnrkey. .
The jitinericin Poultry Turd thus di-.'
- 4x J * 1-^^
cts: unoose a iai, icnucr imuuy,
jighing six or seven pounds; pluck it,
refully remove the pin feathers, siDge
e bird over the flame of an alcohol'
mp or a lew drops of alcohol poured onplpte
and lighted; wipe it with a damp
wel and see that it is properly drawn
' slitting the skin at the back of the
:ck and taking out the crop without
aring the skin of the breast; loosen
,e heart, liver and luogs by introdncg
the forefinger at the neck, aud then
aw them, with the entrails from the
int. Unless you have broken the gall
the entrails in drawing the bird do;
>t wash it, for this greatly impairs the1
ivorand partly destroys the nourishing
lalities of the fle-;h. Twist the tips of
e w ngs bark under the shoulders,stuff
e biid with forje-meat, bend the le.^a
far up toward the breast as possible,
cure the thigh bones in-that position
ra tMuoinff nr?l;(<w(>r- thfin hrin??
e legs down and fasten them close to
c vcut. Found the breast bone dow::,
st laying a towel over it. Lay a thin
ice of salt pork over the breast to ba-te;
until sufficient dripping runs from the
rd. Baste it frequently, browning it
i all sides by turning it about in the
m. Use a clcan towel to turn it with,
it do not run a fork into it or you will
iste its juices. "When it is half done
ason it with two teaspoonfuls of salt
id one teaspoonful of powdered herbs,
hen it has cooked about twenty mines
to each pound, dish it and keep it
>t while you make a irravv by adaing
ilf a pint of water to the dripping in
e pan, first taking off a little of the sur.'luous
fat, and thickening it if deed
with a teaspoonful of tiour mixed
ith two tablespoon fuls of cold water,
rve the turkey hot with a gravy boat
II of gravy and a dish of cranbeny
nee. The same direction fordrawing,
issiner and roasting will apply to other
mltry and game.
Tlio First Thanksgiving.
It is only about r2.3;? ycar3 ago that
muksgiving d:iy was observed in this
untry. (ild Ma-sasoit and his ninety
aves sat down to dinner with the Hurins.
The Indians brought deer from
u woods and the pale faces supplied
h, cliims and corn. Ten years later
icn tnc la-t batch of bread in the coly
was in 'Jov. Bradford's oven and
trvation was staring our I?'ew England
cestors in the face, a good ship from
iiaud appeared with provisions, and
b day appointed for fastiug was
anged into a day of thanksgiving.
Tim Gobbler's Fate.
\ gobbler stoo.l upon the fence,
V. hem all I ut him iia 1 J!< d.
:lis form erect?his tail outspread?
And stately was his head.
L passing tramp he wrestled with
And bore him to the grouud,
Ind now ho hangs be?ls over head,
At thirteen cents a pr.uncL
Si . -U ' . Va'"
. r"x. .
... .-.c- .^i-'v-'..y*7Sr
m > *" v-.1.-' '-j'-- ?' '
v'r
.
POPULAR SCIENCE.
A paper has been established in China
in which articles in Chinese are printed
with translations in Volapuk.
I rofessor Morse, of Saiem, Mass., has.
(lev sail a simple 9tove for warming
rooms by means of 3olar heat.
I The highest point at which regular?
meteorological observations are made?
appears to be in the Andes, in Peru, at ?H
height of 14,-*500 feet. fl
I A "rain of iDk'' la'eiy fell over quite?
a wide nrea near trie Cape of Good?
Hope, Africa. The blackness of the?
water is supposed to have been due tc^J
volcanic or meteoric dust, probably to?
1 the latter. fl
A case of deafness as a result of gazing?
for a few seconds at a powerful electric?
arc has been reported to the French?
Academy of Sciences. The symptomi?
disappeared after about an hour and,a?
half, but returned on a repetition of the?
experiment.
At the great steel works in Cleveland,?
Ohio, a large e!ec:tro-magnet is used,
suspended from a crane, to pick up iroa>l
or steel bars and bllets. It will take un>l
80 ) pounds, and, as soon as the elcctriej?
cur lent is turned off after moving, drop?
it in the proper place, thus doing the?
work of a ganc of men.
A crusade is being made against th<
use of nickel-platcd lined cooking uten
! sils. In some of tlie European countries
their manufacture and sale is prohibited
by law. Investigation has proven th4
vinegar and other substances di?8olv<
nickel, and this in proportions of one
seventh of a grain produces serioM
illness. 'vrfej
A French biologist is seeking a bacillus
that will kill that of consumption, or
or a disease that can be inoculated without
risk to the patient, and will giva
protection against consumption. He it
confident of ultimate success, although
his experiments with typhoid bacjli
have seemed to hasten the progress ol
, the disease he wished to check.
One of the boldest engineering
1 schemcs brought forward for a longtTim
is that proposed by Major Powell ol
damming up some of the canyons of th<
rocky Mountains, aud converting then
into immense reservoirs of water, for as*
in tVio nlo iric Ka'nnr ar\ r\ a I an
(XX XX & i^ubiu^ lUb j/toiug wiv ?t | <juvt uww
serving to regulate the flow of water in
the Western tributaries . of the MisSft^
sippi.
The method of giving a bright metallice
surfuce to wood has been broui ih t|
out in Germany. The wood is first
| treated in a bath of caustic aikaii, then
in ii bath of hyporuiphite of calcium to
which sulphur has been added, and
finally in a bath of acetate of lead. In
each of these baths the wood remains
I for several hours. It is then dried and
1 may bo given a very high polish.
I A writer in an Engiisti scientific jourj
nal says with regard to the practice of
; putting silver with the other metal whe*
a bell is to be cast: '*1 once asked a fore!
man in a well known bell foundij
i whether putting silver in a melting pot
j wai of ad antage. He replied, of great
; advantage?to the founder, as the silver
| sinks to the bottom; the founder pours
I oil the copper and tin, and when the
silver has cooled, puts it in his pocket,n
..in
Traditions About Storks.
Innumerable tradit;ons and legend*
centre in this interesting bird in Ger!
many, in which country ne is regarded,
I by the children at least,' as something
i sacred. He has always been regarded??
j the herald of spring. A very old trai
dition, recorded as early as the thirteenth
1 century, states that they are human bei
ings, and merely undergo an annual
' transformation into storks on visiting out
: northern climes. \
There is a theory in north Germany and
i Swabia that when a nest is manufactured
: for the stork. which is occasionally done
by putting up an old cartwheel with
boughs twined round the spokes, he will
testify his gratitude to the owner of the
house by throwing down a feather the
i first year, an egg the second year, and
| the third year a young stork. Then he
i recommences with a fe ither, and so on.
The demeanor of the stork on his first
appearance is very important. Should
he be chattering, the spectator will break
j a good deal of crockery during the en1
suing twelve-month; if silent, he will be
I lazv: if flying, he will bo diligent. Thus
! say the peasants of Hanover and Meck^
1 lenbtirg. In the Altmark, a stork on th^
| wing signifies to a maiden that she will
I soon enter the bonds of wedlock; bat it
j stationary, she will be asked to act as
i sponsor. Whoever has money in his
I pocket on first beholding the stork Will
never lack during the year, nor will he
| suffer from toothache.
The superstition that the stork brings
! the children is current overall Germany.
! In Silesia the flight of a stock over &
house denotes the speedy arrival of a
i baby; while in the island of Kugen thej
say that, unless the stork lay eggs, the
house will also be childless, and, as the
j young storks thrive so will the children.
Nobody dare shoot a stork in Kugen,
for then he weeps large tears, and each
tear portends a great misfortune.?Aud.:bon
Magazine.
Fattening: Oysters. M
The business of planting oysters and^R
having them grow properly after they^B
are planted is not very well understood^!
by the general public. There is a irreatM
I deal of money invested in the industry^!
i along the Delaware I'ay, and occasioa-M
ally some of those heavily interested in a^^
j financial manner come out at the little.^^
| end of the horn. The process of eatching^^
j oysters and fattening them for the mar-H
I k'et is, to say the least, a very in I cresting H|
' one. After the oysters are caught they^^
| are placed on an immense iioat, which isHj
air-tight on all four sides. There are a^^
I number of corks in the bottom of this^B
float, and after the oysters have been^B
la d out on the bottom the corks are^B
| withdrawn, allowing the I'oat to fill with^B
I water and go to the bottom of the bay. B^
! The oys:crs will then open their mouthsl|
j like any other fish and drink to thcir^B
; heart's content. After two or threeH|
I tides have swept over tliera. they are^B
! brought to tne surface once more. By^B
this time they have become plump oys-H[
j ters, ready for market. '1 he' .supidy at^B
the present time is about equal to the dc-^B
! niand. Choice prime oysters sell at^B
from $7 to *!l per 100", while 4Vullens"^^
rate at from n'v.oO to per lOQU. ^B
Obslrucfinns I'marcd by Magnets, fl^
,^:e Innics and others employed in iron^B
factories frequently suiTcr soar; annoy-^B
ame and no li'.tlc pain from the acci-^B
dental introduction into the eye of par-^H
tides of steel, iron filings, etc. All^B
persons engaged in work of this kind^l
should carry with them magnets, the^B
use of which rarely fails to remove the^l
foreign body. A man in Lonvale, G&.,HC
drove a piece of steel tiling into his eye-^B
ball a few days ago, and a surgeon spent^B
some time in vain endeavors to extract^l
it. Finally, lie brought a powerful^!
electro-magnet to his aid, by means of^B
which the ollensive particle was at once^l
removed. It was over a quarter of nn^B
inch long, and its entire length had been^l
imbedded in the eyebalL flH

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