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About The Knoxville journal. (Knoxville, Ga.) 1888-18?? | View Entire Issue (Nov. 23, 1888)
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.” ■X mi Y vr » mr [• % ni'iY, \ F / J • * V s ' •v -3* #r 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. 'a. #§ J / JL} i hi \ if m I \ \ { iff*' J '' ' M “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 ' ' > % 'Or i rC 1 1 jn\. 'A t 'V; k A? i <K )\ P 5' 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.
