The review. [volume], November 29, 1917, Image 2

About The review. [volume] (High Point, N.C.) 1908-19??

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THE REVIEW, HIGH POINT, NORTH CAROLINA.
SEASON TO REJOICE
THAT ELUSIVE BIRD
IN COUNTRY TOWN
OVERDONE
"PRAISE THE LORD!"
1
'Z?
THE most delightful part of my
life was that age when boys and
girls freely mingle with each
other as friends, half boy and
girl, half man and woman.
There was one Thanksgiving when
the head of our large family invited
every member that could be reached
to spend a week in his large country
house, including Thanksgiving day.
Those of us of my generation went
in for a good time together. The girls
were of that age when a taste for mis
chief predominates. One night when
I was getting ready for bed I found
the legs of my pajamas sewed up.
When I had ripped the sewing, got
them on and tumbled into bed I found
the sheets scratched. I had turned off
the light, so, springing out of bed, I
tiptoed hastily to the door, opened it
and was in time to grab the last of a
bevy of girls who ran away in the
darkness.
Throwing my arms around my cap
tive, I gave her a smack, she strug
gling to be free, then let her go.
Slipping back into my room, I turned
on a light, and there, sticking onto
the breast of my pajamas, was an
elongated pin of chased gold set in
the center with a single sapphire.
The problem was to identify the girl
I had kissed bydiscovering the owner
of the pin. I consulted with ray men
cousins, and it was 'decided that I
should put the article up at auction
at the Thanksgiving dinner, bids to
be accepted only from the men.
Accordingly when the nuts and cof
fee came on I took the pin out of my
vest pocket and, holding it up before
the company, said : "I found this ar-
"I Will Put It Up at Auction."
tide recently and would be happy to
return it to the owner if he will claim
it and prove ownership."
I swept the board with my glance,
but saw no sight of a give-away on
any girl's face. Then I continued:
"Since there is no claimant for the
article, I will put it up at auction, re
serving the right to bid to the men
present of my own generation, the
proceeds of the sale to go to charity."
I called for bids, and one of my
cousins, Jack Somers, bid 25 cents.
There was an exclamation of disap
probation for such an offer, and when
another of my confederates bid 50
cents it was repeated. The gem alone
could not have been worth less than
$25. When every man who was per
mitted to bid had done so, $2.75 'was
the highest offer received.
I knocked the article down to the
successful man, Jim At wood, and he
handed me the money. "What luck!"
he exclaimed, holding the pin before
him admiringly. "I've wanted some
thing like this for a gift to my fiancee,
and now I have found it."
The fact of another girl possessing
her jewelry was too ranch for its
owner. Becky Aldrich showed by her
expression that she was at least to be
suspected. I took the pin from Jim
and tossed it to her. A telltale blush
confirmed my suspicion, and, the eyes
of all the company being concentrated
on Becky, it deepened into scarlet.
Then there was a burst of laughter,
in which everyone joined heartily but
Becky.
Becky pretended to be very much
offended with me for the course I had
taken. This caused me to feel uncom
fortable, and I endeavored to placate
her. Becky for a long while refused
to be appeased.
To make a long story short, Becky
played me as an angler would play
a trout till I was madly in love with
her. Having refused me, she seemed
to be satisfied and thereafter treated
me so considerately that I tried again
and was successful. Naturally, the
anniversary of Thanksgiving brings
to me interesting memories.
(Copyright, 1917, by the McClure Newspa
per Syndicate.)
Message of Cheer.
The holiday season is here and with
it" nnmno o i cm r-P i-t rk I - 1
quickening of the benevolent impulses
of the heart. Thanksgiving day a
festival for giving thanks for the mer
cies of the closing year is one of the
oldest institutions in America. The
Pilgrim Fathers held their first har
vest hmksgiving festival in 1621.
4
Thanksgiving Song in Bos
ton Harbor Rings in
the Ears Today.
raise ye the Lord!" The psalm
today
Still rises on our ears,
Borne from the hills of Boston
bay
Through five times fifty years,
When Winthrop's fleet from Yarmouth
crept
Out to the open main,
And through the widening waters swept.
In April sun and rain.
"Pray to the Lord with ervent lips,"
The leader shouted, "Pray;"
And prayer arose from all the ships
As faded Yarmouth bay.
They passed the Scilly isles that day.
And May-days came, and June,
And thrice upon the ocean lay
The full crb of the moon.
And as that day, on Yarmouth bay,
Ere England sunk from view,
While yet the rippling Solent lay
In April skies of blue.
"Pray to the Lord with fervent lips,"
Each morn was shouted, "pray;"
And prayer arose from all the ships,
As first in Yarmouth bay;
Blew warm the breeze o'er western seas,
Through Maytime morns,, and June,
Till hailed these souls the Isles of Shoals,
Low 'neath the summer moon;
And as Cape Ann arose to view,
And Norman's Woe they passed.
The wood-doves came the white mists
!
through,
And circled round each mast.
"Pray to the Lord with fervent lips,"
Then called the leader, "Pray;"
.And prayer arose from all the ships,
As first in Yarmouth bay.
Above the sea the hill-tops fair
God's towers began to rise,
And odors rare breathe through the air,
Like balms of Paradise.
Through burning skies the ospreys flew.
And near the pine-cooled shores
Danced airy boat and thin canoe,
To flash of sunlit oars.
"Pray to the Lord with fervent lips,"
The leader shouted, "Pray;"
Then prayer arose, and all the ships
Sailed into Boston bay.
The white wings folded, anchors down,
The sea-worn fleet in line.
Fair rose the hills where Boston town
Should rise from clouds of pine:
Fair was the harbor, summit-walled.
And placid lay the sea.
"Praise ye the Lord," the leader called;
"Praise ye the Lord," spake he.
"Give thanks to God with fervent lips,
Give thanks to God today."
The anthem rose from all the ships,
Safe moored in Boston bay.
"Praise ye the Lord!" Primeval woods
First heard the ancient song.
And summer hills and solitudes
The echoes rolled along.
The Red Cross flag of England blew
Above the fleet that day,
While Shawmut's triple peaks in view
In amber hazes lay.
"Praise ye the Lord with fervent lips.
Praise ye the Lord today,"
The anthem rose from all the ships
Safe moored in Boston bay.
The Arabella leads the song
The Mayflower sings below,
That erst the Pilgrims bore along
The Plymouth reefs of snow.
Oh ! never be that psalm forgot
That rose o'er Boston bay.
When Winthrop sang, and Endicott,
And Saltonstall. that day:
"Praise ye the Lord with fervent lips.
Praise ye the Lord today;"
And praise arose from all the ships,
Like prayers in Yarmouth bay.
That psalm our fathers sang we sing.
That psalm cf peace and wars,
While o'er our heads unfolds its wing
The flag of forty stars.
And while the nation finds a tongue
For nobler gifts to pray,
'Twill ever sing the song they sung
That first Thanksgiving day:
"Praise ye the Lord with fervent lips,
Praise ye the Lord today;"
So rose the song from all the ships.
Safe moored in Boston bay.
Our fathers' prayers have changed to
psalms,
As David's treasures old
Turned, on the Temple's giant arms,
To lily-work of gold.
Ho! vanished ships from Yarmouth's tide.
Ho! ships of Boston bay,
Your prayers have crossed the centuries
wide
To this Thanksgiving. day!
We pray to God with fervent lips,
We praise the Lord today,
As prayers arose from Yarmouth ships,
But psalms from Boston bay.
Hezekiah Butterworth.
AH Should Be Grateful.
There is something about the shock
ed grain in the fields, the heaps of
yellow pumpkins, the stubble of the
cut corn and wheat, even the blue
gray of the November sky which bends
low like a benediction that speaks
of plenteousness, of fruition, of God's
loving care. It is the universal thanks
giving, the uplifting of all his crea
tures' hearts in praise.
IMPOSSIBLE
Say, Petie sez dere's some kids dal
gits toikey when it ain't Thanks-
"Aw say yous knows wot a lift..
Petie is."
I i
Reasons Why Thanksgiv
ing Is Always Inter
esting There.
THANKSGIVIN' day in a country
town is alius interestin' on ac
count ' th' folks that come back
homes. Some o' us kin git by th'
Fourth o' July or fair week or even
Christmas an' New Years, but some
now ther's somethin' 'bout Thanks
givin' day that kind o' makes us want
t' be back home. Then, too, one nice
long dull Thanksgivin' afternoon in a
B flat town is enough t' make us all
satisfied t' stay away fer another
whole year. .
Our town looks real cosmopolitan
like t'day, as Tell Binkley would say.
On ever' corner you kin see little
clumps o' fellers that haint met in
years holdin' reunions an' talkin'
about ole times. Some o' 'em look
like they had lots t' be thankful fer
an' some o' 'em look like th' place
they come from ought t' be thankful,
while still others look like our town
ought t' be thankful that Thanks
givin' only comes once a year.
Sam Bud, who traded his farm here
fer a Floridy orange grove some years
ago came in from th' north this morn-
Laurel Spray, From the West, Is In
Town Wearing a Straw Hat.
in'. He says this is th' first time that
he's ever had clothes an' money
enough at th' same time t' git back.
Hallie Mopps, who's been gone
about ten years, is home from Coshoc
ton, Ohio. He says he's lied so long
about th' size o' his father's farm
here that he hardly recognized it when
he got back.
Grayson Mapes wuz about th' first
feller that showed up fer. Thanks
givin'. His folks have been dead fer
thirty years an' he never knowed it.
'Bout th' last thing auybuddy ever
heerd o' him wuz -in 1S76, when he
sent his mother a Centennial edition
o' th' Philadelphy Ledger. He come
over from Jeffersonville on parole
but nobody knowed him.
Joe Apple is back in town shakin'
hands, too. His whiskers have been
driven back an' his step haint quite
as springy as it wuz before he traded
his hardware store fer some rice land
in Arkansas. He's jist a plain shoy
eler now somewhere's in Michigan.
He says that while th' work is a little
harder than bein' in business, ther
haint no books t' keep an' ther haint
nothin' invested an' you kin lay off
when it rains.
Laurel Spray, who sold his farm
here two years ago an' invested in a
gold mine out West, is in town wearin'
a straw hat. He says he's been so
busy gittin' home that th' weather
never occurred t' him. He may stay
here an' go back in th' band if he kin
trade his minin' stock fer a clarinet.
But ups an' downs er no ups an'
downs, a feller is still purty rich that's
got a good mother an' father t' go
back to. Ther haint no mashed p'ta
toes an' roast turkey an' minced pie
anywhere else on earth that kin touch
your mother's. Her coffee is gener
ally purty bad, but we won't say any
thing about that. I don't care how
any feller is gittin' along, whether
he's single or tied down, he feels a
whole lot better if he knows he's got
an ole home t' go back to. O' course
your father haint as gushy as mother
but even if you did leave th' farm
jest at a time when he needed you th'
most, he's proud o' you. Jest as long
as you don't ask father fer any money,
either directly er thro' mother, he's
proud o' you.
But mother is th' one. She believes
ever' thing you tell her. She knows
you have t' hurry away an' that where
you've been workin' has had t' close
down till you git back. You're her
boy an' things can't git along without
you.
'vCopyright, Aclams Newspaper Service )
Universal Thanksgiving.
Some call November the dreary
month of the yea, the black sheep cf
the 12; and yet it is the month cf
thankfulness, the completion of the
fruitage of the year. In the wood's
the squirrels are industriously at work
emong their last gleanings before cold
weather sets in, their happy "cheo
cheeree" joiniug with the calls of the
blue jays and crows and smaller hire's
in the .universal paean of thanksgiv
ing. In the underbrush and in the
meadows the mice, too, are harvest
ing, with their hearts full of gladness.
Bees are buzzing over goldenrod and
wild asters and othe late flowers ; the
quail that have escaped the hunter
are like Ruth, gathering the last
grains in the farmer's fields ; while the
farmer himself and his boys are load
ing the golden pumpkins into the big
farm wagons to carry away for winter
storage for use by both the family and
the cattle.
I trG I
I Din& x
!
I I :
1 JFSc
"Whew ! Here I've chopped wood
half the day to get an appetite, an'
now I'm too durned tired to eat."
AS SONG OY POnS
Old and New Thanksgiving
Sentiments JVorth
Recording.
RABINDRANATH TAGORB, the
Hindu-English poet, recently
contributed to the London
Times the following verses on
"Thanksgiving," which are as unlike
the conventional Thanksgiving poem
in sentiment as they are in form:
Those who walk on the path of pride
crushing the lowly life under their tread,
spreading their footprints in blood
upon the tender green of thy earth.
Let them rejoice, and thank thee, Lord,
for the day is theirs.
But thou hast done well in leaving me
with the humble
whose doom it is to suffer
and bear the burden of power,
and hide their faces and stifle their sobs
in the dark.
For every throb of their pain
ias pulsed in the secret depth of thy
night,
and every insult has been gathered
in thy great silence.
And the morrow is theirs.
0 Sun, rise upon the bleeding hearts
blossoming in flowers of the morning
and the torchlight revelry of pride
hiding in its own aisles!
There is, of course, nothing new in
dissent from that smug piety that re
turns thanks because its possessor is
"not as other men are," be it' iiT world
ly possessions, in bodily health, in
mental equipment or even in moral
inheritance. Robert Burns long ago
satirized one aspect of such seif-com-placence
in "The Selkirk Grace":
Some hae meat and canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it;
But we hae meat and we can eat,
And sae the Lord be thankit,
William Blake, in one of those
quaintly phrased little poems of his
that have almost the flavor of esoteric
wisdom, declares:
Since all the riches of this world
May be gifts from the devil and earthly
kings,
1 should suspect that I worshiped the
devil
If I thanked my God for worldly things.
The countless gold of a merry heart.
The rubies and pearls of a loving eye,
The ideal man never can bring to the
mart.
Nor the cunning hoard up in his treas
ury. And in recent years Edmund Vance
Cooke, a poet of whom Cleveland, the
"sixth city," should be proud, has
sung:
We thank thee. Tea, in the even tone
Of those who are glad of the goods they
own.
We thank thee. Yea, that thou hast pre
ferred And blessed us more than the common
herd. '
We thank thee, part with the heart's in
tention, But most, let us own, with the lips' con
vention. "We thank thee." Lord! What a selfish
prayer!
Thanks while a beggar's breast is bare!
Thanks that our own full feast is spread
1 While another creature is lacking bread!
Thanks that our full fed blood runs warm,
While a starveling baby breasts the
storm !
There is certainly no taint of Tar
tuffe or Pecksniff in the reason that
William Ernest Henley gives for
thankfulness in his "Invictus," but it
has something of Pharisaical arro
gance notwithstanding :
Out of the night that covers me.
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
Algernon Charles Swinburne, in
"The Garden of Proserpine" (from
which, by the way Henley seems to
have borrowed his "whatever gods
may be"), expresses a sentiment that
in certain moods has an appeal to
many men :
From too much love of living,
From hope and fear set free.
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be
That no life lives forever,
That dead men rise up never,
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea.
But, after all, there is a healthier
appeal than Swinburne's, and an ap
peal to a greater number of normal
men and women, in such fine odes as
i hat which the late Hezekiah Butter
worth wrote in celebration of the first
"Thanksgiving in Boston Harbor" :
The Arabella leads the song
The Mayflower sings below,
Thar erst the Pilgrims bore along
The Plymouth reefs of snow,
Oh, never be that psalm forgot
That rose o'er Boston Bay,
When Winthrop sang, and Enflicott
And SaHonstall that day:
Praise ye the Lord with fervent lipsr ,
Praise ye the lord today!'
And praise arose from all the ships
Like prayers in Yarmouth Lay.
Reasons for Thanksgiving
Are So Many as To
Forbid Gloom.
THE world may well seem never
to have been so troubled, never
to have had so much to regret.
The Great War has bred cynic
ism and despair. But Nature is not
a pessimist. A year's sun, a year's
rains, a year's labor, have not been
without their fruits. In farm and fac
tory, in public endeavor and in pri
vate struggle toward the light, the
twilight of the year shows results that
forbid the gloomy and inspire courage
and good cheer. The instinct of
thanksgiving belongs to courage.
Gratefulness is the handmaiden of
grit. Nature's whisper of well-being
rises to a splendid volume of whole
hearted song. Whatever may happen
in America's own life, or in America's
relations with the rest of the world,
the reasons for thanksgiving shine
with an unquenchable light. No dis
aster threatened or possible can oblit
erate the great fact of piled riches in
natural and human resources. The
fixing of Thanksgiving as a festival
at the close of the harvest era is,
after all, but an adaptation of sym
bols. The symbol is worth having,
since it always visualizes the eternal
charity of Nature herself, and since it
is an ever present reminder of the
finest resources in human ideals, hu
man aspiration, human will to win.
It is from the gathered harvests, the
assembled fruits of labor, the estab
lished signs 'of productive power in
every activity of men and women that
thanksgiving gets its meaning.
i
.A Prayer of
TKanlksgivimg 5
5 B y
LEWIS
ALLEN J
THAT we can see round about
us the faces of friends: the de- 0
i serving, that we may help them ; the '
4 needy, that wc may render aid; and 4
little children, that we may rejoice: 0
THAT we can hear the kind J
words of loving friends, the 0
i sweet songs in church and home, the J
4 prayers of devout people, and the t
' crooning of a Mother's lullaby:
THAT we can feel loving hands J
in ours, trusting hands of little 0
children, comforting hands upon our J
4 throbbing brow; that we can feel the t
0 warm embrace of the old folks who '
J receive us at the homestead, or of t
f our own who, dwelling apart from t
' us, have come back this day: '
THAT we can taste the savory
good things, which, by God's 4
' bounty, are this day set before us '
0 through the miracle of Nature,
t which is God:
THAT we can speak to give sin-
cere thanks to him who, in his 0
4 great goodness, has permitted us to
0 meet once more on this day of t
t Thanksgiving; that we can speak '
4 hope and encouragement to our J
0 loved ones; words of comfort to the 4
t suffering and the discouraged and '
4 the lowly, words of hope and cheer
0 and promise to those who have 4
t fallen by the way: '
THAT we can pray with a knowl- '
edge that the prayers of the sin- 0
4 cere are answered, that he to whom
0 we offer our prayers is full of loving 4
' kindness and pity and forgiveness, '
4 and that his help is assured:
TRULY, all these things are '
God's gifts, and without them
0 there could be no Thanksgiving. 4
Teach us to appreciate them for '
0 thine own Glory. AMEN I
Being Thankful.
Thanksgiving is not a day, it is a
hubit. We cannot be thankful on
Thanksgiving day unless we have been
learning how every day in the year.
Here are some simple rules: Walk
on the sunny side of the street; live
as much as possible in the best room
in the house; think about your friends,
not your enemies ; talk about your
good luck, not your bad. These are
some of the ways of acquiring the
spirit of cheerfulness which is the
only soil in which the flower "Thanks
giving" will grow.
THANKSGIVING DAY
- as
Mr. Gobbler Yes, Mr. Duck, I'm in
mourning. About 3,000,000 6f my
relatives lost their lives today.
Sad Story of Two
Who Went Forth Gaily
to blay a Turkey.
THE CONFIDENT START
THE TRIUMPHANT STRATEGY
THE TURKEY'S OBJECTION
THE TURKEY'S DEPARTURE
THE OBSTACLE ENCOUNTERED
a1
THE FINAL TRIUMPH
SEEMS TO FIND LITTLE JOY
Possibly Premonition of Its Fatt
Makes the Turkey Such a Con
firmed Pessimist.
The turkey is a serious bird. The
expression written on his bill, as he
looks mournfully out over the world
or walks solemnly, his loner neck sway
ing here and there in search of the
passing grasshopper, is that of a set
tled melancholy due to the certainty
of fate and to the hereditary loss of
his illusions.
For, ever since the days of the Pil
grim Fathers, the lives of countless
generations of the turkey family hay
been cut short in their primp by sud
den and bloody tragedy. What tvoulj
be the effect upon the minds ano
hearts of a human family it
member of it for 300 years back M"
met a violent and bloody end Just upo"
. ..1,1 h'lPZ
reaching maturity? A pan ""
over the annals of the house. Desp-
fixed and settled, would be writi
into the very constitutions 01 iw -
bers, and life would become a
a curse almost too great to ne
It must have been that one 01
Pilgrim Fathers, viewing the en
the turkey as symbolic 01
man, wrote that cheerful dittj w
our ancestors were accustom
sing in their gathering for uivine
ship :
eternal day.
Thy years are one
And must thy children die so if J-j,
Minneapolis Joam
Joy in Thanksgiving-
pie have learned how to par
8 COl
j J.1 ,1 lmnninpW til'"1
in uie uetry
1 God
tained in thanksgiving - happf
events that bring joy or to
days. If some joyous eveDldeS
into our life, if father or son .
from the war, if convalescent
at last, if a victory is ob,
and generous then ris-
ernm snors ciepni . r 1
Spirit whom one can tnai tb
all! Happy he who know t
row a fho throne of (v"n . io?1
v - . - our l
vibrations of the soul ring
ous thanksgiving to ' 0
--i!... him to whom u it
LUUIlKSglVIllfc " ...pS 11 I
we attribute the event t vflSt
significance, gives it P"c oil
er, holy process, that is above
er things.
l
CHANCE., CR I T N
m .
.'!