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4. POOR MAN’S THANKSGIVING.
Let him who eats not, think he eats,
’Tis one to him who last year said,
“My neighbor dines on dainty sweets
And I on coarser bread.”
He who on sugar angels fares
Hath pangs beneath his silken vest - -
The rougher life hath fewer cares—
Who fasts hath sounder rest.
If lean the body, light the wings;
His fancy hath more verge and room
Who feasts upon the wind that brings
The flowers of hope to bloom.
Bo, if no smoking turkey grace
This day my clean but humble board,
HI think what might have been my case
If rich, and thank the Lord.
No gout awaits my coming age,
No bulbous nose like lobster re
To vex my temper into rage,
Or fill my days with dread.
Leave to the rich his roast and wine;
Death waits on him who waits for all;
The doctor will be there by nine,
By twelve the priest will aall.
Lord, in all wholesome, moderate ways
Keep me, lest it should hap be worse;
Teach one to fill his mouth with praise
Who never filled his purse.
— F. B. Plympton.
THE UNPROBATED WILL
A thanksgiving STURT.
% O Or as Tohn
1% Austin was
3 i was desperate mnfip
return of the
tber Sieved of bis wife
to he
A dead: who came
, Sn
Y if t 4 in health
i the
Wf _ __ —v Si. man, as peo
Cht0n
v '/A by/ called Cal When him w
\ tr Austin was a lit
•I*»»w m
self to battle with the world. No one
knew why or whither he had gone.
For twenty-five years nothing had
been heard of or from him. In the mean
time the mother had died, the daughter
married, and several little olive, branches
had come to twine around the hearts of
the father and mother and make the
struggle for bread still more imperative,
For half a dozen years the old man
lingered purposeless rather than wander lived, in apparently woods
save to the
around the little inland village in sum
mer, shiver over the fire in winter and
constantly mutter to himself. Then he
quietly faded out from among the living
and was laid to rest in the desolate
graveyard. Of where he had during
been his long
absence he never talked; what he had
done was never known. His reappear
ance was as sudden and unexplained as
his departure. He came on foot and
alone, and the only thing certain about
him was his poverty. , .
The expense of his “keeping” had
been a serious drawback to the prosperity
of the daughter and her husband; those
connected with his last sickness and
death heavy. A single dollar added to
the outlay of any man whose only cap
itaj daily is toil his hands is light and only affair. income is from
no
But a week previous to Thankgiving
the funeral had taken place—used up
the last dollar of ready money and left a
debt to be paid. In the flickering light
of the fire husband and wife sat sadly
discussing deed it the outlook, and gloomy in
was. The last of the little brood
had been tucked into bed, the fierce wind
of the Northern Winter was howling
without, and the the stars shone brightly but
coldly, notice low, heavy banks of
clouds gave of a fierce snowstorm,
and the poor know but too bitterly what
that means for them.
“John,” said his wife, after a long si¬
lence and with a heavy sigh, “to-mor¬
row dren will reckoning be Thanksgiving, good and the dinner." chil¬
are upon a
“Yes,” and he replied, with his head
bowed tears in his eyes, “but the
good Lord only knows where it is to
come from. The care and death of your
father—I don’t say it complaining, wife,
for you have only repaid taken it the a thousand last times
—has not cent, but
left us a debt it will take months to pay.
However, the darlings shan’t be disap¬
pointed if I pies can help it, little and things if you can
manage the ana I’ll see
what can be done about getting some¬
thing in the shape of meat. Heigh ho!
what a miserable thing it is to be poor
and never have any money when you need
it most.”
‘‘Yes, dear, it is hard; but we have
health, strength, and the little ones, and
that is very much to be thankful lor.”
“And many a rich man would give
more than the sum necessary to make us
comfortable for our appetites and the
sound sleep we enjoy.”
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Little . knew they of .... the storm that ...
rocked their little cottage and drifted
the snow around it. But with the morn
mg light they saw it and with a sinking
of heart. It yt as as a death blow to the
plans John Austin had made for their
Thanksgiving lanciful dinner. dreams He had indulged
in no of turkey and a
! JiV® T ^, e tL' c c Vere “ lcken as ,ar P ie ^.eyond > 0 * salad his and jelly,
means as
t
mZf ^ “ ! A 3 l ,rac . tlcal man U ehhora > he had te
Si? but ! resolved to be up early, :
£ ake 118 S un ; S®' to tlle woods and see if
SOmethin S
j sffldim Under Sfen^
‘
lie whistled under his breath as he saw
I ho ™ J f freez dee P. ’°S. was the ‘ he .^strong But jt ™ the Thanks- wind
appointed. Sofafte/buUdinga rousing
; early as possible, took his gun and
started uw the uncertain quest, for
game, like money, has a perverse fashion
wanted. of being out of the way when most
fields Tramping and along the full over the unbroken
in sweep of the icy
blasts, he was glad to reach a little
grove where he could find shelter and
regain his breath. He seated himself
upon a stump and to him came the
1 greatest temptation of his life. In
a
tree, within easy shot, roosted numerous
] turkeys. Hatch d from the eggs of
! wild ones and with the distinctive
feather marks, it would be the easiest
thing to legitimate secure one and pass it off, if
seen, as game. Great fat,
luscious fowls they were, and the vision
of how happy his wife and children
would be in the eating arose before
him.
Almost before he was aware of the act
his gun was raised and aim taken. Then
conscience whispered: “They are not
yours, John Austin,” and turning his
steps away he answered mentally if not
vocally: “No, and I’m not going to be a
thief, even for a Thanksgiving dinner.”
Pushing on again over the broad
meadow he struck the road—an unbroken
one now—that led to the forest where
game passing was the likely to be found, and was
than log his cabin of a family even
poorer own, for the husband
the was chimney—the lying very ill. He glanced up at
most natural thing to
do upon such a day—and saw no smoke,
Either the poor man must be dead or the
supply stantly his of wood had given out. In
own situation was forgotten
and he was not long in finding out that
his latter surmise was correct,
“Don’t worry,” he said to the anxious
wife, gathering and bringing in all the
wood he could find, “I’ll run over to
neighbor and Sampson’s and borrow his
team get you a load. There’s lots
of dead timber on this land, and be
isn’t the meanest man in the world by a
long shot. ” his
To accomplish purpose he was
forced to retrace his steps and again look
at the temptation of the turkeys.
Certainly no birds ever looked so large,
and they stretched out their necks and
fashion gobbled and at him in if. they the most knew provoking
as what was
passing in his mind.
“Yes, his John,” said the farmer in and an¬
swer to request, “take the oxen
get as much wood as you can haul. But
you will have to cut it. Everything
down must be snowed under except it
may be some rotten stuff that is of no
account.”
“All right, but you will have to lend
me an axe. I started to find some game
for dinner, but now the children will have
to get along with whatever their mother
can manage to fix up.”
“Well, here’s an axe, and you had
better leave your gun here till you come
hack. I’d like to use it if you can tell
me where I will find my flock of turkeys
— the tame-wild ones I mean. I believe
they know it’s Thanksgiving and have
runaway.”
Austin told him where the birds were
to be 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 team, discon
tented with being out such a cold morn
ing and wading through such deep snow,.
Could be persuaded to go.
Tramping last along after the sled Austin
at reached the woods and looked
for a convenient tree to “fall.” An oak
stood near and a tap of his ax convinced
^him exactly. it was He could hollow. easily That suited off him
cut a couple
duce of logs, roll them upon the sled and re
them to burnable size afterward.
A strong-armed and willing-hearted
man, he was not long in separating the
trunk, drawing and unloading in front
of the house of his sick friend. The
poor wife thanked him heartily and said
her brother had come and would do the
chopping.
“All right—no thanks,” he replied in 1
his hearty way. “Hope your Thanks
giving ted will be brighter than you antici
pa V “ N -? w ri1 get my gun and see
what ,. I can do for my own dinner.”
He had gotten ^me little distance
when v the woman shouted:
“You have forgotten your satchel,
J ° ha Austin!”
he questioned, returning.
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“Of course it is. You must have
I placed it it. in the hollow trunk and for
gotten Anyhow it rolled out and
here is your wife’s name on if. Gracious,
but it is marked plain enough.”
j In mute astonishment John Austin
took up the satchel and brushed off the
snow. It was a small affair, battered,
worn, stained and (as he afterward said)
might have come out of the ark. A
the piece handles of buckskin was looped through
and rudely marked: Mrs.
Jane Austin, wife of John Austin and
daughter of James Selfridge, Beachton,
Pennsylvania, choked U. S.”
He down a great lump that
had gathered in his throat, looked with
the most stupid surprise at the woman,
then at the satchel, and forgetting
team, gun and game started homeward
dropped on a run. breathlessly Bursting into the house he
into a chair, flung
the satchel into the middle of the floor
and “There!” gasped oue the single word:
“John Austin,” exclaimed his wife in
the loudest key possible for her voice to
reach and with the muscles of her face
gathering ashamed of for yourself a storm, “aren't home you
to come
drunk, and on Thanksgiving? Take
that burning nasty shame old thing and out of doors. It’s
a husband and father a disgrace, of family,” and
you and her a a
sition apron was brought her into requi
to wipe away tears,
“It’s marked for you, Jane, and—
where in heaven did you get that great
turkey?”
“Farmer which Sampson lost, brought and it, if and
your gun, you the
neighbors didn’t take pity on us we’d
starve,” was replied in very short sen¬
tences and broken by sobs.
“But Jane—”
“Don’t ’Jane’ me. Take that misera¬
ble, where dirty and thing out sleep, and crawl off some¬
go to To think I
should have lived to see the day—and—
and we become objects of charity—and
—and—having bors,” and to be the fed by the neigh¬
“Mother,” up went in the apron again. the
broke eldest of
hopefuls, whose curiosity had caused an
investigation had spelled of the address, satchel, and who
out the “it’s your
name, and such queer writing!”
Thus reinforced John Austin explained
that he had found it in a hollow log and
suggested that it be opened. The wife
looked dubiously at it for an instant
and then, forgetful of anger and tears,
exclaimed:
“It is father’s writing. Open it as
quick He as ever vou can.”
complied. The first thing he saw
; was a letter. It was written on coarse
paper, read: unsealed, directed to his wife, and
“All for my daughter Jane, wife
of John Austin, forever and ever. James
Selfridge. “Sounds
like a will,” said the hns
band, “and we’ll see what the old man
has left.”
Little packages tied up in buckskin
were taken out, and each, when opened,
disclosed gold, coined, dust and nug
gets, miner, evidently the savings of a miser
, and explained why he had so
much haunted the woods ,
Overcome by their unexpected fortune
husband, wife and children gathered
around the table upon which it had been
piled, and laughed and cried together.
The millions of merchant prince or rait
way few king was nothing compared to the
hundreds to them. Then came the
wealth natural fear of being robbed, and the
was much hastily hidden away. They
were too excited to even discuss
what they would do with it and were
frigthened nearly into convulsions when
aloud rap was heard on the door and
with it a command to open,
It was only their neighbor Sampson
with more good things, and as he sat
warming told his numbed hands and feet he
how good John had been as to the
afflicted fam.lv.
“And, John,” he said, “I saw and
heard you when talking about my tur
keys, and a man who could be thus
honest under so great temptation will
ever find a friend in Job Sampson.”
Then Austin and his wife unbosomed
themselves, showed the gold, the letter
and asked advice. It was judiciously
given and with congratulation the farmer
hurried away, happy at having done a
^ ^
r*h;irivnr. wnm bSslSS^fh^nSSoMd a* ,
behind her 1 ,“
his neck and kisse a him more warm
VSered ■F* ° £ ^ C0Urtship M
SUw, AA i L T T 1, “? ho er P to e
v eai
J p ™ lnat 111 was never „ P r ° Datea
' ' -
Tiie First Thanksgiving.
It is only about 256 years ago that
Thanksgiving Old day was observed his in this
country. Massasoit and ninety
braves sat down to dinner with the Puri
tanS- 1 he Indians brought deer from
"A woods and the pale faces supplied
ds h, clams and corn. Ten years later
wkeu the last batch of bread in the col
OD y was ' l0y - Bradford’s oven and
starvation was staring our Mew England
ancestors d m the face, a good ship from
aa a PP ear with provisions, and
‘•“e day , appointed . for fasting
was
changed into a d ay of th anksgiving,
A Runaway 1 Counle ' '
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The night before Thanksgiving.
The Sorrow That Follows the Joy.
“Yes,” she said at breakfast table this
morning, over.” “I am glad Thanksgiving is
“Why?” he asked.
“Because," she replied,“because lean
now begin reminding and that you need that Christmas seal¬
is coming, I a new
skin sacque .”—Philadelphia Herald.
* A Song of Thanksgiving.
I never had a sweet gazelle
To glad me with its soft black eye—
But I would love it passing well
If Baked could in a rich bird and crusty pie, A
I have a to love .
And nestle sweetly in my breast,
All The other turkey-stuffed—would nestling birds above. be that bird.