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A COUNTRY THANKSGIVING.
Ay* good man, close the great barn door: The mellow harvest time is o'er! The earth has given her treasures meet Of golden com and hardened wheat. You, and your neighbors well have wrought, And of the summer's bounty caught Won from her smiles and from her tears Much goods, parhaps, formally years You come a tribute now to pay— The bells proclaim Thanksgiving Day. Well havo yofi sown," well have you reaped, And of the riches you have heaped. You think, perhaps, that you will give A part, that others, too, may live. But if such argument yuu use. Your ni^^ird bopaty I refuse. No gifts you on the altar lay In any sense are given away. Lo! rings from Heaven a voice abroad: "Who helps God's poor doth lend the Lord." What Is yoKr wealth? TTd have to know To have it, you must let it go. Think you the hand by Heaven struck cold Will yet have power to clutch its gold? Shrouds have no pockeis, do they say? Behold, I show yoa then the way: Wait not till death shall shut the door, Bat sead your cargoes on befere. Lo! he that glveth of his hoard To help Qod's poor doth lend the Lord. To-day, my brethren—do not wait Yonder stands Dame Kelly's gate And would you build a mansioa fair In Heaven, send your lumber there. Each stick that on her wood-pile lies May raise a dome beyond the skies You step the rents within her walls, And yonder rise your marble halls For every pane that stops the wind There shineth one with jasper lined. Your wealth is gone, your form lies cold. But in the city paved with gold. Your hoard is held in bands Divine It bears a name that marks it thine. Behold the bargain ye 'have made With usury the debt iB paid. No moth doth eat, no ihieves do steal, No suflering heart doth envy feel. King out the words:. Who ofhis hoard Doth help Qod's poor doth lend the Lord I Go get your cargoes under way llie bells riug out rhaulcsgivini Day! A Memorable Thanksirivin!:. Thanksgiving week was always a busy week at the Gates homestead, but it seemed lo Dear that it was busier this year than eycr., Shfe* couldn't quite understand 5t, either,' for as they were coming home from church on .Sunday she heard her mother sav to Aunt Mar garet, with a little break in her voice, that she had "no heart for Thanksgiv ing this year." Dear knew why, and she thought they would have a sorrowful Thanksgiving,'or, perhaps, no Thanks giving at all. But Tuesday morning there could be no doubt thai, they were to have Thanks giving this year, for there was what Tiptop called a "bonfire" made in the groat brick nven in the kitchen, which since Dear's remembrance, was opened and healed only during Thanksgiving week. Tiptop mounted a chair so that he could Bee into the oven, and shouted "Fire!" and danced In ecstasy till, for getting that lie had on'y a chair-bottom lor a Hoor, he danced oil', and bruised his nose, and had to be eomlorted by Dear just when she- was'so busy seeding iftisius. Koundtop and Squaretop counted it a great privilege to brine In the long sticks of hickory wood to heat the oven, each holding an end, tugging it along with great gravity, and an occasional fall on their toes, and if they were allowed to thrust a small stick into the oven,their saisfaction was complete. Dear paused, ID her hurried trips through the kitchen, to look into the blazing depths and think of Shadrach, Meahacli and Abednego. Then they all stood ajound to see the coals drawn out and the oven swept and when their mqther, .holding, her hand far in to test the temperature, solemnly declared it was "just right," they watched breathlessly while the loal-cake and spice-cake and cookies were care fully put in,'and breatlied a deep sigh of relief when the .oven djor closed upon the good things committed to its keep ing. Wednesday- morning the oven was heated again, and filled with mince pies, which came out so delightlully brown and so deliciously fragrant that the Gates children^'grew desperately hun gry, and thought Thanksgiving would never come. .Aud then such pumpkin pies, an apple pies, and tarts, and at last, as the evening drew on,great batch es of brown bread and rye bread and wheat bread filled the oven to the door. When the 'cliicken-pie and turkey were rcadv for the next day, the tired mother dropped "liito*(fie low' rocking chair, and taking Tiptop on her lap looked wearily intd theflre. ''Let mo hold Tiptop, mamma," said Dear. thinking.-Jtow .-Mredi her mother was but r.ftr mother toade answer only by holding Tiptop with a closei arm. The children gathered around as the twilight came on, ami sitting there wait ed for tlflsir fatUer.to.jjqiue.^,, Grauuftlly silence'fell upon them all, broken only by the subdued roaring of the lire ia the stove, and the 1 ud ticking of the clock on the mantel-shelf. As Dear listened, how vividly came back that sorrowful night when stie stood and heard the clock ticking loud er and louder, as Tiny gently breathed her life away and it teemed to Dear that she would never again hear the clock ticking in the night without think ing of that scene. She glanced at her mother, and did not wonder that she had no heiirtjfor Thanksgiving this year. Indeed, she thouiht they all had more cause for complaint thau Thanksgiving. Half blinded by tears, she started up, and, going to the window, looked out. It was a frosty starlight night. There was no snow on the ground, but here and there patches of ice were forming over the pools of still water left by the henvv fall r:MiiB. "Why don't papa come?'' said Tiptop, fretfully "Ho will come soon," said the mother, soothingly, and in obedience to an old habit, began absent-mindedly humming Greenville, the one tune she know, and by whose aid she had year after year hummed the Gates babies to Bleep. "Is papa at the shop!" asked Dear, in the lirst lull in the humming. "No ho went down to the cotton-mill with a load of bobbins, and he ought to be hero by this tims." "May I go a little way and meet him?" asked Dear. "Yes," remembering that Dear had been in the house all dav—"only first, light a candle and make the tea, and put more wood in the stove, and bring me Tiptop's night-dress, and untie the boys' shoes, and wear your hood and don't be gone long." Dear had closed the outside door, ready to start on a run, when she beard old Fan's whinny in the direction of the barn. "Papa has come, and is unhar nessing Fan," thought she, feeling a lit tle disappointed that she could not meet liirn and ride home. Instead she turned to the barn. At the stable door stood old Fan, steamine as if she were having a vapor bath. "Papa had a load home," thjuuht ]ar as she went up to pat Fan. But what was that she stepped on? A thill? Yes a broken thill, still hanging to the harness. Startled, Dear glanced around the yard. The w.iznn wn not there, niu! now :iiie s.r.v tlmt oily a part of the harness was on the horse, and that was trailing on the ground. Before this fee'ing in hei heart had time to take shape, Dear opened the stable door and let Fan ii., and, carefully clos ng the door, ran for the st reet. The road over the hill Jay, like three narrow foot paths, with straight ridges of turf be tweeti, and along these narrow paths Dear sped with flying feet, straining her syes to see she dared not think hat. At the brew of the hill she paused and looked down. Th road wound like a brook down the long hill-side, turning lo the right and to the left, with here and there steep pitches and many bars, till it was lost in the darkness far down toward the vi lley. As far as her eyes could reach there was nothing nnusual to be seen but at her feet lay a broken harness strap. Up that »oad Fan had come, and down that road Dear must go. On and on, over bars and pitches, scarcely touching the ground, loose s'ones hit by her feet living before her, till, suddenly, halfway down the steep est pitch, she came to aplaceinthe road wliere the stones and the travel had been plowed up as if by the plung ing of a horse. Here lay the wagon-seat. A little far ther on lay two or three planks across the road, and at the foot of the steep pitch lay, on its side, a wrecked lumber wagon, which had run backward till it capsized: and across the steep gutter by the roadside lay a load of plank which had slipped from the wagon as it went over. Here was a part of the bro ken reins, belonging to the harness with ihe ends under the load of plank. The wagon was her father's. Dear knew that but where was her father? She stood and looked 011 either side, up the hill and down into the valley. Noth ing moved thero was not^ven wind euough to bend the tall dead grasses by the roadside, and no sound was to be heard in all thn still night but the gu-g ling and babbling of tho little brooks that had gullied deep channels in the water-ways on either side of the road. Dear could bear this silence no longer. "Papa, papa, where are you?" and the wild ciy went up the hill-side and down into the valley bringing 110 answer. "O papa, papa' what shall I do?" she called again, and as she listened with straining ears, she heard, or thought she heard, a low moan near her. She dropped on her knees. "Papa, papa, are you here?" It was a prayer now! Surely she heard a sound as if in answer and it seemed to come from the plank that had slid over the gutter. In an instant Dear was ever there, peering among the planks. She could see nothing but she ceuld hear a sound plainly now. She tried with frantic haste to raise the planks, hut there was not strength enough in her small arms for that, and almost without thought she darled, not up the hill to her moth er. bat down into the black vallev at the foot of the hill, where a cart-path leading Irotn the woods intersected the road. Along this dark path, overgrown with alders, she went till she "amo to a low shanty built between two trees, and, bursting open the door, she cried: "0 Biddy McCoy! couie quck some thing dreadful has happened on the hill. "Wh»t is't yer sayin'?" said the stir tied Biddy, starting from her seat, hut as Dear was aire idy out of doors, she added, suiting the action to the words "Here, Bridget, take the baby, and you Mike," to a stupid boy by the tire, "get yer lanthern ami come along and with out waiting t'i put anything on her head she followed Dear. The child was already out of sight, but Biddy went 011 VOLUME II. KIMBALL, BRULE COUNTY, DAKOTA, FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1883. in the bed of the gutter. The planks were over him like a roof, or the cover of a box, and, when the last one wag off. Dear saw her father's face, still and white, but she could not utter a Bound. "Howly Mother, help us," ejaculated Brady. "Take his feet, Mike, and help get him out of the wather. He'll be drowned intirely if he's no kit already." For as he lay damming up the narrow channel, the ciioked water Imd risen and spread around him in an ever-rising pool. As they took him up and laid him down in the road, tho motion seemed to rouse him to life, for Biddy, stooping over him with the lantern, saw his eyes suddenly open. He looked about hiin in a bewildered way, and then clutched at tho reins that were still in his hands, shouimir: "Whoa, Fan, whoa!'' Then ho slowly raised himself on his elbow, aud seeing the planks scattered about him muttered: "Why! she's got away." "Are ye much hurted, stir?" asked Biddy, concernedly, taking his arm as if she would help him to his feet "I don't know, I'm cold," said he slowly. "An' well ye might be lyin' in all that wather," and she told them how they found him lying in tho gutter, with the planks over him. hut not on him, and the water around him. "Is Ihat HI, Dear? and has the horse gone home?" asked he after a moment, seeing the little, shaking figure beside him. ''Yes, papa," and all at once the con vuls ve sobs leaped beyond her control, and she fell 011 her knees, quite unable to say or do anything but sob. The sight and the sound of her sobs did more than anything else to reBtore her father to himself. With Biddy's help he slowly rose from the ground, and, after standing a moment, he said, steadily: "I believe I am all right, only cold and a little confused. The fall must have stunned me, but for your help, my good woman, I should have been a dead man soon." "It was yer little girl tould us. We shouldn't have known." He held bis hind to Dear, and she caught it and held it under her chin,still unable to speak. "Do ye think ye could, walksur? Ye've no right to be standin' here wid yer wet clothes." Thus admonished they began to move. Biddy and Mike and the "lanthern" went with them to the top of the hill. By that time Harvey Gates had obtained full possession of himself, and he bade Biddy good-night, telling her he would see her on the morrow. "Now, Dear," said he, "run home and tell your mother quietly, that the wagon broke do n, hut that I am all right and will be in directly." It was not until near noon the next day, when Dear broke into an irrepres sible fit of sobbing, that her mother knew how near death had been to them that night. She turned very white and after a momentsaid: "Children, we have great reason 10 he thauktul to-day." A little later Harvey Gates came in. He had been down with Luke to get the SIcCoy.out at a sounding gallop till Bhe came to the foot of the hill. There she saw the small figure Hying before her and beckoning her on. "Shure, ah' something dreautul has happened," said the breathless Biddy, crossing hersell as she Jcame up to the wrecked wagon. "Is any one hurted?" as Dear called Iter to help. "I'm afraid—I'm afraid there's some on?, under the planks," gasped Dear, trying single-bantKid to lift the load. "Here gurl, that's 110 way to warruk, tak'the top one lirst. Mike, ye lazv Bowl, get along wid yer lanthern!" and her voice went down the hillside like the blast-of a trumpet, starting even the slow Mike into run. "There, huu'.d that," said she, hand ing the lantern to Dear, aud with Bid dv's stout arms at one end and Mike's at tue other, the planks were flung over into the road. Dear held her breath, and before the planks were all off ey could see that a man lay there strotched lanlcs of the road and to see Biddy He told a pitiful story of the provertv in the little shanty. "There will be no Thanksgiving supper there to-day," he said. Mrs. Gates winced a little. She was a thrifty woman, and it was not easy for her to understand the blessedness of giving. 'And such a ba by, such a little c?ite of a baby!" con tinued Harvey Gites, as if speaking to himself. "A baby?" repeated Mrs. Gates, paus ing on her way to tho oven "did you say Biddy had a baby?" "Yes, and the poor little things looks half starved." "Mainaia," said Dear, eagerly, "why can't wo have them all up here to Thanksgiving supper? we've got enough for them.'1 Harvay Gates glanced at hip wife. After a moment's hesitation she said. "Yes, they can come, I suppose, if thero aint more'n forty or fifty of 'em and she opened the oven door, and basted the turkey with energy. "Har vey," she called, as she heard him go ing toward the door, "tell Biddy to bring tho baby and bore, you take that tlrol shawl in the entry to wrap it up warm." And BO the McCoys had the grandest Thanksgiving supper of their lives and no more thankful company gathered in New England tint dav. the Gates fam ilv leeling very tender over their es cape from a great calamity.—Josephine B. Baker, in S. S. Time* liAI'i i:i/l!V A'tiATOK. Joseph Johnson, a Young Lad Caught by Monster 'Gator. From the Valdosta, Ga., Times. Captain E. B. Johnson, of Clinch county, writes us the following particu ars of a desperate struggle with a mon ster allegator in which his little son, Jo seph, played an unwilling part: It seems that Hev uerson's millpond, near the northern part of the country, had nearly dried up, and one day last week was chosen by the neighbors for a sein ing frolic. Captain Johnson, with his little son, joined twenty-five or thirty others in the un lertaking, as it was known that trout and the various fish ol the perch family were te be had in great quantities by the going, The par ty were supplied with nets, gigs, and other appliances, and were Bcaltered here and there over the now shallow pond playing havoc with the finny tribe. Master Joseph carried a bag or corn sack, in which to deposit the fish when caught. When loaded with as many as he co"ld carry he would take them out and make a deposit and return for more. In making one of these trips, while wading through the water about three feet deep,'some distance from the fishermen, a monster alligator, said to tie of unusual size, rose suddenly right at the boy and seized him by the thigh. A desperate struggle ensued—the boy battled for his life and the alligator for his prey. It so happened that the bag, which hung by the hoys side, was caught in tbi alligators mouth with the thigh, and it pioved a sort of shield—lessen ing greativ tho incisions made by the brute's teeth, and thus, perhaps, pre venting a shock to lus nervous syBtem which might have ade him succumb without the struggle which saved him his life. By an etlort—one of those su perhuman efforts which come to men only when facing death—the boy tore his bleeding flesh Irom the alligator's jaws. The monster grimly held to the nack a moment with a delusion perhaps, Miat he still had his prey, affording the 3 jy an opportuni'v to escape. He had aardly extricated himself trom the jaws )f death before the fishermen, alarmed by the struggle, were at hand, and an other battle ensued. Thirty men armed with gigs, poles, pocket-knives and such other instruments of war as were at hand, charged upon the monster. Be ing in three feet of water, the 'gator had considerable advantage, but these men had their blood up and were not to be out-done, when one of the party made bold to seize him by the tail and legs. Theie were too many of them for the 'gator to slap around with his tail, a pe culiar mode of 'gator warlare, and he had to give up the fight. A harpoon was plunged intj his mouth, and then it was safe to approach with pocket-knives. Soon his head was severed from his body, and the victorious party irched out of the pond with the monster's head on a pole. Fortunately a phv.-dcian was among the party, and lie ato'nee dressed Ine, boy's aounds. Captain Johnson writes us that Master Joseph, while he Killers much, is doing well, and will likely be out soon. A K5NI) DEED IA* THE WA.lt. Interesting Train of Incidents Con necting Maine and Georgia. A Maine paper relates that Gov. Robio's wife recently addressed the Biddeford Grange, and her remarks having been quoted by the Dixie Farm er, of Atlanta, Ga., Gov Robie wrote the ediior the following letter: Sidney Herbert Lancey: DEAR SIR: I thank you for the copy of your interesting magazine. I have read its contents with much pleasure, accept my thauks tor th3 complimen tary notice you were pleased to bestow upon the paper which Mrs. Uobie pre pared lor a Grange meeting in Maine. We hardly expected it would be repro duced so far (rom home. It was my lortune in the year 1S42, belore I had reattnined my majority, to teach an acad emy in Thomas county, Ga. I stillmem ber with admiration the kind and hos pitable characteristics of the citizens of thatuountv. Hook back that period upon as one of the happiest years of my life. 1 have watched the progress which your state has made during tHe past 15 years, and I rejoice at your success. It was mv fortune to be an otlicer (paymaster,) in the Union army. A little incident occurred in the* seven days' battle tn front of Richmond, Va., which I shall never forget. I was temporarily as sisting in caring for ihe wounded prison* ers at Savage S'ation and while dis charging that duty I found Col. Lamar, of Georgia, who was severely wounded by a mime-ball, which had penetrated the groin, making a fearful wound. The surgeons were discussing the necessity of amputation at the hip joint. Col. Lamar expostulated, and asked me to use my influence and his wishes, against such a course, which I did, being myself a sur si&ou and physician. I told him tint I was once a rkhei. of Georgia, and when a young man received many favors from her peop'e, and was glad* of an op portunity to do him a kindness. lie Hsked me for a blanket, Arhich I was very glad to find and present to him. After this little episode, circumstances required that I should leave with liasle, and although I have often inquired I have never learned the fate of that brave officer. My only object in making men tion of this incident is to inquire of-you whether Col. Lamar still lives? The Grange organization has accomplished much in restoring good feeling and Kindly relations between the extreme sectio is of our country. The future greatness of a "free and united Nation" increases every year, as the representa tives of different and remote sections become better acquainted and their pur poses betier understood. May ouijfriend abip grow and be perpetual so as to es tablish eternal peaci. Yours truly and •raternally. FREDERICK KORII:. Acknowledging the receipt'of this let ter Major Lancey wrote: "I was born Bangor, Me., was educated at Water lie, and WHS a schoolmate of Gov. Ding 'ey and GJV. Chamberlain. So you see I have reason to love Maine. Some weeks ago I read in the Maine Farmer the resolution of the Third Maine vet erus as to a soldiers' home for disabled Confederate soldiers and sailors. Show ing it to the Mayor W. T. Garey of Au gusta, member of the House irom Rich mond, he drew up resolutions which were adopted unanimously by a rising vote. In the senate, as Col. Lamar is hairmau of the committee 11 the state ol the republic, tie called up and elo quently advocated Hie resolutions which uad passed the House." Major Lancey also inclosed the follow ing letter from Col. Lamar: HAMULINSVILLG.' Ga., Oct. 24,1SS3. My Dear Major: Yes! 1 am the Col. Lamar to whom Gov. liobie refers. I AUS wounded in tho groin by a minie ball while leading my regiment (the he roic Eighth) in a chame in one of tile aeries of battles around Richmond. I .vas captured and carried to a field hos pital at Savage Station. I cannot describe to you my sensations at this critical pe riod of my life, when the surgeons were discussing the propriety 01 taking off my leg or perloru-ing an operation to take up the'femoral artery. Well do I re member the kind gentleman who inter posed in my behalf. I was very grateful. 1 need not be ashamed to telt'you that my tears bore witness to the sincerity and force of my feelings, I love him like a brother and he shall find me one indeed it the wonder-working dispen sations of Providence suould ever place him in tho want of a brother's arm or mind or bosom. I take this occusian mv dear Major, to unsure you ot my high esteem and most curdiai regards, L. M. LAJIAU, According to a correspondent of' the Boston Advertiser the Vermont experi ment of conferring the right of suffrage in school affairs on women has not been attended with success. The number of women voting has steadily declined since the passage of the law three years ago and this in spite of the fact that meet ings bave been held, and repeated at tempts made by Boston women suffra gists to 3tir the women up'in this matter. Thus in Burlington at the first election after the passa of the law sixteen out of two hundred voted. At the second election the number dropped to five, and this year only eight votes were thrown, though the number entitled to •ote had greatly increased. And what is true of Burlington is 1 rue of the rest of the state. Is it really true, as alleged by the opponents ot woman's rights,that women do not care for the right of suf frage? It would seem to be the fact from this indifference to its exercise. The best located town in Southern Dakota, being situ ated near the cen ter of Brule County, in the midst of the best fanning and stock country in the world. The proof of which has been fully demon strated in the mag nificent crops of the past few years. KIMBALL Is located on the Main Line of the Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul Railroad, 48 miles west of Mitchell and 22 miles cast ot Chamberlain. It lias a line pub lic school building, good church es, a first-class postoffice, two banks, two s'ood hotels, one large grain elevator and mate rial 011 the ground for another, tin •ee lumber yards, all tarrying immense stocks several black smith shops, good livery stables, and stores representing all branches of trade. Still the country demands more and to live men great inducements are offered to invest in this Beautiful Town The Brule County Agricul tural Fair Grounds adjoin the townsite and is one of'the best fair grounds in the Territory, with a good half-mile track. THE TOWN IS BOOMING And now is the time to invest. D. WARNER, Proprietor of the original town site, has platted and laid out three additions, all adjoining, with a continuation of streets and alleys. Part ot which are in acre lots, so as to enable all classes to be suited in procuring a residence lot. The most de sirable blocks 011 Main Street are still for sale to those who desire to engage in business, and great inducements are offered to that class of men. The climate in this part of Dakota is everything to bo desired and is fully as mild as that of Ohio, Indiana and Il linois, with, perhaps, a less num ber of cloudy days. The rain fall is abundant and always comes when most needed. The water is free from any alkali taste and as pure as any found in any of the Eastern States. In short, the country, climate and social advantages make this one of the best, it not the very best, county in Dakota -for the emi grant For further particulars, call on or address D. WARNER, KIMBALL, DAKOTA, liUULIi COUMT, Good Livery in Connection. KIMBALL, KIMBALL KIMBALL, *b ft TAFT HOUSE, ONE OF THE MOST CONVENIENT HOUSES In the County. 1 ITlie patronage of tho public ia solicited, guaranteeing satisfaction ia every cose. A. F. OILLEY, Proprietor, The Farmers' Friend. I KEEP IX STOCK A FULL LINE OF DRY GOODS, 5 BOOTS and SHOES, ..,_ CLOTHING, 1 GROCERIES, CROCKERY, HARDWARE, TINWARE, PUMPS, My prices are always "the lowest, my goods the bast that money can bay. I cannot ahi will not bo undersold by any competitor. L. D. BARDIN, WEEKS & WELLS, 'I'H.M NUMBER 34. LIVE. We would invite you all to call and be convinced that we are selling more good*, for One Dollar than any house in Kimball or Dakota. We do our own work, and consequently our customers do not have to pny extra for eooda to pay clerks. WV are always a hand to give you prices on small or large bills, and'we never get left. on prices. We carry a full and complete line of r* r. Our goods are sold so ebeap that we never lose any sales. If you do not be lie va it call and try us. Everybody come. Yours respectfully, i.ife® WEEKS WELLS^ KirnbaU, Dakota* SMITH & ALT A SUCCESSORS TOD.L SMITH & SON. HEADQUARTERS FOJt AND SOUTH MAIN STREET, KIMBALL, -y DAKOTA. I E. B. TAFT, rnOPRIETOP.. "P v5 "7 *JV- DAKOTA^ (f.<p></p>HOUSE A This Hotel, Formerly the Summit House, has been .7* BEFITTED, REFURNISHED, AND, TO A CERTAIN EITENT, REBD1LT, And is now •*&( 1 KIMBALL, DAKOTA. 41 'XiStirrm & rJi.,' HATS and CAPS, IBOCERIES and CROCKERY -4 vV 1 i* ^DAKOTA. 1 BOOTS and SHOESJ»^- FLOUR* A -n^-yfv "T A FEEIK and SALE. 1 r:r "-t* 4 "1/ 4 I W9r'~^ CUTLERY, GUNS, GARLAND STOVES, BUILDING MATERIAL