Harrison press-journal. (Harrison, Nebraska) 1899-1905, November 30, 1899, Image 3

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' There's a raffle down at Clancy';
They are throwing for a "turk."
By the way the dice box dance
You can see It bard at work.
Whew! the air la close and smoky!
Therc'i a crowd about the beer;
Every stalwart thirsty bloky
Downs hli pint without a fear.
"Twlnty-wan" called Jerry Clancy.
And he pounded on the bar.
"Shure." the game is rather chancy.
Lucky divil that ye are!
Come, O'Brien, tak' the blr-r-d!"
Then said Clancy with a wink:
"Whlrra, boys, an' haven't ye hear-r-d
u urlen aahk yei all to dhrlnk?"
There were twenty-seven husky men
Gathered there about the bar.
"Whisky here!" each shouted then.
Clancy answered: "Here yes are!
"Tin clnts alch, ye lucky sinner!"
"Falx!" O'Brien said, "that's nate!
'TIs a motghty coshtly dinner
Eight years old, four pound In weight.
: The Broken String,
Tinkle-tinkle, tinkle-tinkle, tlnkle-tln-
The leading man. engaged In an at
tempt to remove a black spot from his
areas cravat by means of an applica
tion of whit grease paint, paused and
"It's a mandolin," he said. 'That's a
new wrinkle. We've had all kinds of
fiend In this company since we start
dout, everything from cigarettes to
bicycle Who's the musician, I won.
der? Oh, I say, Jenksl Jenks! Who's
the band wagon?"
There was a step in the narrow pas
sage-way that led to the dressing rooms
and Jenks, the property man, appeared
In the doorway. "Shi" he said, "not
so loud. The old man '11 hear you
The leading man started. "The old
man, did you say not MerrlamT'
"Yes, Merrlajn," Jn a whisper.
The leading man sat on his trunk.
"That beats me." he said. "The An
cient Mariner tinkling a mandolin.
Now I'm prepared to see Father Time
playing sentimental ditties on a Jews-
harp. '
Jenks did not laugh, a fact which
helped to sober the other man. "It's
no surprise to me," said the property
man, gravely. "I says to Mrs. Jenks
before I left the hotel, says I, 'Mrs.
Jenks, you know what night this Is?"
Thanksgiving?' she says. 'Why, light,'
ays I, 'and it'll be a hard night for
" "Poor old man says Mrs. Jenks,
a-wlpln' of a tear. 'Poor old man, I
suppose he'll be a playln' of his mando
lin again.' 'That he will,' says I.
"He hasn't missed It, as near as I
can Judge for thirty years. As sure as
Thanksgiving night comes, Just so sure
he gets out that old mandolin of his
and tinkles away. And it's always the
same tune, God! But It does make
my mind go back. I'll never forget
the first time he played It. You gee,
me and Merriam have been together,
off and on, so lonir that I know his
story "most as well as he does himself.
Not that he ever talks about It. To
night, after the show, that instrument
II go back to the bottom of his trunk,
and it won't come out again until this
time next year."
The leading man was all ears.
"Thirty years ao 1 was stage door
keeper at the old California theater.
Now, the stage doorman ain't so un
important as some folks think. There's
mighty little goes on that he don't
know something about. He gets the
flowers first, and he usually sees the
cards. He's a good friend to the actor
when the actor's a friend to him, and
he can do a favor now and then that's
worth the while.
Merriam was just beginning to climb
up the ladder in those days. He had
come Into the stock three years before
aa utility, but he was a handsome
chap, with brains and ambition to back
his good looks, and It wasn't long be
fore he got to playing leaas. oay
when Merriam went on a Romeo at
the matinees you couldn't see three
rows In front of you for the bonnets.
Mrs. Jenks used to live In a regular
garden those days, for Merriam would
not have any of the flowers the silly
girls used to send him. When I'd offer
to bring them home to him he'd laugh,
and tell me he reckoned my wife cared
more for flowers than he did.
"But I often noticed that he came
lato the theater with a big bunch of
violets or roses that he'd bought him
self to give to the little woman who
played opposite parts to him. I asked
him cmce why he didn't give her the
flowers the girls sent him, Instead of
spending money that way. I took a
kind of fatherly Interest In Merriam In
those days. Ur bless you, to look
at him now you'd think he was my
grandfather. He looks that old.
"Well, I M how things was going
with, him anu :eine aiw, u nr
body else sen It, too. When she was
on the stage he stood In the wings, and
his eyes followed every move she
made. I remember one of the women
saying that It was worth while to have
a man care for you like that, and cer
tainly Nellie seemed to like It. Hhe
came to me one afternoon the Thanks
giving I'm telling you about and said
that she was too tired to go home after
the matinee. She asked me If I'd run
across the way and order dinner for
her. Then she whlHpered In my eai
that she wanted It served for two, and
asked If I couldn't fix a bunch light on
the stage, so she and Merriam could
have a cosy Thanksgiving dinner all
"Of course I done U for her, and
while they was eatln' I went over to
my boardln' house. There was to be
a change of bill that night, so I came
bac k early so as to get my props In
shape, as I had them to attend to as
well as looking after the door. When
I came back Into the '.heater I heard
Nellie Moore playing a mandolin. She
was always fond of music and carried
the Instrument around with her.
" 'Now, you try,' she said. 'There's
n air I want you to learn and remem
""AH right,' said Merriam, and he
ijr th mandolin from her. She
.k..il him where to place his fingers,
and kept humming the tune until he
could play It with only one or two
breaks. Then she went to her dressing
room to get ready, and Merriam sat
then thrumming until the half hour
was called.
That night there was a goad deal
of hand-shaking, and the word went
around that there was to be a weddln'
at Christmas.
"The nt night, on my way to the
theater, I noticed a crowd around the
rtag door, and heard talk of a ru
war. nurneu up, " mm
Merriam cam out. his fac a whit
a a gfeott's.
-Tor Ood' tak, frt a doctor,
jakr fee erid. m
TmM to the tMntt ra Mar,
.mA laekltr. fd MM OMO. WMa
VmmwSmt. mm. wiwM-Jt
9 Wf4
led us to a sofa In the wings on which
Nellie Moor was lying. Th doctor
bnt down over her for a minute, shook
hi head and said he was too late.
An understudy played Juliet that
night, and Merriam, as usual, was the
Romeo. The audience didn't know the
real reason for the change, but in the
tomb scene I don't see how they could
neip reeling it.
"Those of us who saw it from the
wings will never forget It. The wo
men were in hysterics and the stage
nands and flymen were nearly as bad
I don't know how Merriam ever lived
through It, but this I do know: He
was a different man from that nlsrht.
He seemd to lose al his ambition and
he withered up so that when I met
him at a rehearsal two year later
hardly knew him. He was bent much
a you see him now. and he was play
ing character old men. Every year he
dropped down further until they
wouldn't trust him with anything bet-
ter than bits and servant. Tea. sir,
that old man ha played Romeo with
the best of them."
The story was finished, but th man
dolln still tinkled. The leading man'
face was drawn, and Jenks sat think
ing. Perhaps the former was thinking
or his own high tide of prosperity, and
rf what th future had in store for
But sympathy and curiosity are
closely allied, and soon the two men
were tiptoeing through th passage'
way. They paused before th old act
or's room. A ray of light filtered
through the crack In the thin pine
door. Merriam was dressed and made
up for a comedy servant. His green
livery coat hung on a peg on th wall,
nd the red wig with which he covered
his own white hair lay on th dressing
table before him. There, too. was the
faded portrait of a pure-faced girl lr
the dress of Juliet. The actor was bent
over his mandolin and the leading mas
nowcaught the tune for th first time
broken, but recognisable.
"When other hearts and other Hps
Their tales of love shall tell,
Then you'll remember, you'll remem
ber 1
Twang! There was the sound of i
broken string.
"First act! All up for th first act!'
The call boy came tumbling down the
passage and the listeners hurried up to
the stage. A few minute later the
call boy came hurrying up, too, and he
found the stage manager fuming.
"Where' Merriam?" h cried.
can't hold the curtain all night for that
doddering old fool. Hurry him up,
will you?"
The boy disappeared and reappeared
almost Instantly.
"Mr. Merriam " The tears choked
his voice and he got no further. The
stage manager made a rush for the
stairs. Ten minutes later he came up
dressed for the comedy servant, but the
man whose name was down on the
bills for the part lay In his dressing
roo clutching an old mandolin, with
his eyes fixed on a faded photograph.
Adolph Klauber.
With this Reason of mlBts and mel
low frultlessness cornea our Thanksgiv
ing day and the festival of the family
History tens us mat mis annual cele
bration of the fireside Joys grew out of
a moment of great peril and marked
deliverance therefrom. This new con
tinent gave our pilgrim fathers but cold
welcome, for the Mayflower entered
Plymouth harbor midst a driving snow
storm. Wading ashore through treach
erous surf men cleared away the drifts
and erected rude log cabins.
But exposure told heavily upon the
pioneers, already exhausted by a voy
age long and tempestuous. Six of the
heroes died during December, eight in
January, seventeen In February, thir
teen In March, and when the last snow
fell It lay like a soft, white blanket
upon the graves of half the immortal
company. If the nrst summer was pro
pltlous, the second refused rain, while
autumn sent an early frost. When the
harvest had failed In the field the game
departed from the forests. What was
worse, the Indians now became un
friendly. Because winter and starvation threat
ened the remnant of the Intrepid band.
Governor Bradford appointed a day of
fasting and prayer. But ere the ap
pointed day arrived the colonists wak
ened one morning to find that during
the night a good ship from home had
dropped anchor In the harbor, bringing
letters, food and medicine for the sick,
seeds and roots for a new sowing
bringing also old friends and new colo
nists. Never was deliverance more
dramatic. So the day appointed for
fasting was changed to a day of feast
ing and thanksgiving.
Since that first far-off event 379
autumns have passed over our favored
land. Other Thanksgivings, perhaps,
have been unique by reason of national
peril and striking deliverances there
from. But perhaps no other one sum
mer has Included dangers so many and
so great, or deliverance and gut" so
strlklnir. For filling storehouse, ami
barns the sun has been kindly, the
clouds propitious, and the soil full of
divine ardor. Each month of advanc
ing summer has lent new -wealth to
meadow and vineyard, pasture and or
chard. ;
Surprised with unexpected treasures,
even now the threshers surround the
fat wheat stacks and must borrow
from winter some days in which to
beat out their unwonted harvests. In
the great states where corn Is raised
already the bins and barns are filled,
yet many yellow shocks still wait the
coming cf he huskers. Vineyards and
orchards hve not been less fruitful.
How rich The crisp apples, pears and
peaches. Sweet Juices have filled grape
clusters to the point of bursting. Au
tumn has also plumped the nuts and
their ripe kernels. How ruddy tin
wholesome roots and vegetables.
When they've counted sll the ballots.
When the votes are gathered In;
When the razors, guns and mallets
That are raising such a din;
Public time no more are wasting
When the turkey comes In state.
We will give the bird a basting
And prepare to celebrate.
Fashions have been changing lately;
Innovations still Increase;
And th gobbler, large and stately,
Now supplants the dove of peace. i
When Thanksgiving time are hasting,'
On and all In spite of fate.
Join and give the bird a basting -
And prepare to celebrate.
"Mamma said we were going to have
a Thanksgiving dinner like mother
used to cook." .
"Well, when you get home, tell moth
er that I have an Important engage
ment at th club."
It wag th day before Thanksgiving.
"Alas!" moaned th gobbler as b faced
th Nock. "I thought the treats.! of
th ArwMfilan would hav Uraed th
ptopl s gainst Turkey, feat It Sll
: Thanksgiving, j
They trampled on the vlc'lm and
They tore him with their claws.
They swooped upon him In a band,
They pecked him without pause.
They stalked across his aching form,
They made him roll and shriek.
They swooped upon him l.i a swam,
And ripped with claw and beak.
He rolled and tumbled all about
At last he gave a scream.
That In a Jiffy put to rout
That horrid turkey dream!
The opening ceremony of the festivi
ties connected with Thanksgiving day
In New York used to be making drunk
the turkey that was to be the most
important feature of the holiday feast.
When the bird that was to occupy the
place of honor on the table had been
selected, it was taken to one corner of
the farmyard and a cup of brandy
was placed before it. The turkey would
drink this eagerly and would then give
a first-class exhibition of being on a
"tear" of the funniest sort. He would
staggeringly strut up and down, his
wings trailing on the ground. At one
time he would seem to look extremely
wise and then would appear to be over
come with the hilarious aspect of his
All the members of the family and
the relatives and friends who had
come to spend Thanksgiving with It
would gather in the yard and enjoy the
sight. Finally when the poor fellow
was exhausted and overcome with
drowsiness he was killed.
The good housewives Imagined that
It anereasef the flavor of -the turkey SO
per cent to kill It when It was drunk.
Familie that would not allow a drop
of liquor to' be brought Into their
houses at any other time except as
medicine, would not think It wrong to
make their Thanksgiving turkey drunk.
Perhaps It wa thought that the bird
would feel less worried over Its fate If
the headsman's hatchet was put to
It when It was In a state of blissful
Thanksgiving brings together the
scattered - members of the family.
"Mother's turkey" and "Mother' chick
en pie" reached out from the kitchen
of the old homestead in Maine to the
shore of California, and from the
green hills of Vermont to the sandy
areas of Florida, and bid the wander
ers come home to Thanksgiving. t
The smell of "mother's doughnuts"
come across the continent, and lure
back the prodigals to the old rooftree.
Grandfather and grandmother, a lit
tle grayer and a little more slow of
step, perhaps, than last year, brighten
up at the thought of Thanksgiving.
They will see the children always "the
children" to them, though they may be
gray-headed and the little folks, and
the baby, who, since the last Thanks
giving, has taken up the burden which
we call life.
The kitchen Is filled with spicy odors
and the smell of sweets. Everybody Is
willing to help now even the ordinary
lay boys are ready to crack nuts and
sample the mlnee pies, to see If they
are sweet enough and spicy enough.
The mother of the family is full of
care and bustle. Oh, dear, if there was
only something now that one could
cook. If someone would only Invent
an entirely new specimen of pie! A
kind that nobody had ever heard of!
If there was some different method of
frosting cake! If one could find some
new recipe for pudding In the cook
That we are alive and kicking cV
peclally the latter.
That we are a humble, healthy citi
zen, and not a dead hero.
That we owe less than we can pay.
That Christmas la coming, and with
It another turkey If we are In luck.
That the bilious attack from which
we generally suffer on the first of the
month Is yet some days removed.
That we have never abused the trust
of our fellow man particularly that of
the grocer and butcher.
That we have never written poetry
for some other unfortunate to edit
That we are a cheerful giver of a
fine assortment of good advice.
That we don't believe all we hear,
and don't say all we believe.
That if we have a cross to bear we
don't go forth Into the market pi are
and Invite all men to gaze on It.
That we never lend anything on any
occasion except the light of our coun
That we can live within our means,
though sometimes we feel rather mean
n doing so.
That we admire all womankind
with Individual exceptions.
That "Vox Popull," "Old Subscriber"
and "Constant Reader" still make life
feasant for us.
Thanksgiving day Is a festival for
elderly people. The movement on thut
day Is toward the home where the
father and mother, the grandfather and
grandmother live. It matters not If we
have made a home for ourselves, and
If it be ever so happy, It Is to the home
of boyhood or girlhood that we turn on
this day. It Is to the old folk we must
go to relate the sorrow and happiness
of the year, to sit again at the bourn I
ful board, share again In the hospitality
and warmth of the family hearth and
receive again the blessings of those
who watched ro carefully and lovingly
over our early days. It was In those
days that we first learned to give
thanks for the benefits of a kind provi
dence and the spirit then Instilled in
us turns our thoughts ever homeward
when the great annual feast of Thanks
giving occurs. Christmas, with Its
lighter current of happiness, Is for the
children, but Thanksgiving, with Its
deeper thoughts, is for the old people,
and It Is with them that we wish to
spend it.
There will be vacant chairs. There
re always faces to be missed on this
Thanksgiving day, which last year
were bright and smiling. This year
there will be more whose light will not
shine at you across the Thanksgiving
table. Many of the bravest and bright
est of our young men have been laid to
sleep under palmetto trees of the Phil
ippines, but let us hope that the saerlr
flee of their hopeful young lives is not
In vain. Let us hope that In the mys
terious marching on of events the go
ing out of the one we so dearly loved
may hav helped on the Grand Inevita
ble and that the hand of Destiny has
written that one dear name where Ood
and th angels can read it, and decree
It blessed.
Gratitude Cheerfulness, Unselfish
ness all those good spirits which Inev
itably bring peace snd Joy In thrlr
train com not without Invitation, and
must b warmly entreated to stay with
ua Strang that w are so diligent to
cultivate th things which make not
for or psbi. and neglect the best
frlsads, when pfinc might makt
Rf a perpetual thanksgiving.
I think Thee for the strength
with which I make my fight:
I had been conquered, aye and crushed
but for Thy might.
I am not wholly overcome, 1 bow and
bless thy name:
I stood and waited for the strength and
lo, it came.
God, I thank Thee that while tests of
truth found me untrue,
I have been faithful to my duty in
That though my failures sicken me,
realise my blame.
And have enough sincerity to suffer
God, I thank Thee for my failures, ter
lible their truth.
But they taught me self-control al
though they took my youth.
I thank Thee that I still can struggle.
still believe and try.
And that my faith in human nature
did not die.
Ood, I thank Thee that the conflict
did not make me cold:
That my pulse leap as quickly as of
That my sympathies still lead me, and
though worldly wise.
That I still can look about me with
kind eyes.
Ood, I thank Thee through my tears
I still can see the stars:
There Is of music In my soul a few
sweet bars.
With gratitude which has survived the
sordid grind and strife.
Oh, God, I thank Thee for th love
which glorifiies my life!
One Thanksgiving.
We had never spent "a Thanksglv
ing" in the country. And In town the
Pilgrims' holy day was degenerated in
t an 'Airy and A met "blowout."
It was decided In family council to
hie us in a body to a country box
among the hills, where we had enjoyed
four Idyllic summers, and there keep
the hoary old rests as Yankee pre-
Raphaellte aquaraelles tell us it should
be observed. '
Snow fell two days before the im
portant Thursday. All the better! It
would have been all the best had the
storm held off until we were actually
housed and could read "Snow-Bound
over blazing logs answering roar for
roar, the "grand old harper" smiting
and twanging the oaks and hickories
of the grove.
We took the 9 o'clock train from the
city. It was crowded, mainly with
one sort and condition of men. Each
of them was presumably going to the
old homestead gray, yellow or white,
backed by the Invariable red barn
"for Thanksgiving." Some chewed or
ange peel to tone down their breaths
to the decorous prejudice of the old
folks at home, others Inhaled bad ci
gars In the "smoker," and brought the
evil incense Into our car. At least
two-thirds mummed peanuts and
strewed the floor with the shells. One
and all talked loud and laughed bois
terously. A red-hot stove at each end
of the car blew the reek of whisky
tobacco, orange peel and roasted pea
nuts Into a nuisance.
It was an accommodation train, halt
ing at every "turn-out" to set down
trinDers moved by filial piety or farm
house romance and poetry to maintain
the traditions of the day. At the end
of the fifteenth mile we came to a dead
standstill. A coal train had been
wrecked and must be cleared away
before we could go on. We were
stranded In the exact center of an un
comely expanse of field covered with
sodden snow and criss-crossed by
blackish stone fences. Now a farm
stead was visible for over a mile on all
sides of us: half a dozen mean huts
knotted Into a sort of settlement bout
some railway coal sheds and twenty
disreputable loafers lounged from them
to Inspect the wreck and our train. The
one sort and condition of men affiliated
right speedily with these, and whereas
paterfamilias made divers abortive ex
cursions in various directions in quest
of a draught of milk and slices of bread
for his hungry children and a reason
ably clean spot where materfamlllas
might retire for awhile from the grow
ing strife of tongues dashing against
the becalmed train, It was but too evi
dent that the mountain dew and Jersey
lightning were to be had for good fel
lowship and for money. All babbled,
more or less tlpsily, of the day we were
celebrating, drinking to it with every
Imaginable form of expletive, and some
that, until that unhappy hour were
quite unimaginable by materfamlllas
and her terrified younglings, rne av
erage American's one idea of a holiday
is license, and the one Idea increased
and prevailed as the hours dragged by.
We were halted at 10:30. At 3 tne
rails were free and the celebrants of
the honorable anniversary tumbled tu
muluiously into their seats, the one idea
All over the. brpad and teeming land
turkeys had offered their brown breasts
reeking with richness, to the carver's
blade; cranberries had bled by the
million; pumpkin pies and plum pud
dings had surfeited the tens of thou
sands ct sensible people who had
stayed at home and feasted conven
tionally. Since our early breakfast we
hud eaten Just one water cracker
apiece; and we were lame w ith long sit
ting, sickened in body by foul air and
in soul by foul language.
What was left of spirit and soul re
vived with each mile left behind us.
Materfamlllas told stories- to the con
fiding Innocents of the sleigh drive
they would have from the station, the
dinner and flree and fun awaiting us at
home. We hud managed to get off a
telegram to our caretaklng gardener at
11 o'clock, ordering him to send to
every train until we came and to keep
the dinner hot.
At 4:30 we alighted at the shabby lit
tle station nearest our Idyllic cottag3.
No rlelgh was in waiting; not a living
creature was in sight, and the station
was locked. A bitter wind moaned up
and down the valleV, and the unsym
pathetic sun was hardly a yard above
the hills. Paterfamilias shouldered
the two-year-old baby and led the for
lorn procession "across lots" of un
broken and stiffening snow. By the air
line we had projected for ourselves the
walk was a mile long. We were wet
up to the knees with snow water and
exhausted to falntness when we reach
ed the gardener's lodge at the entrance
to our grounds.
It was shut fast; no answer was
vouchsafed to our knocking; no faint
blue streak arose from the chimney.
The children had behaved heroically
up to this Instant. When the father
announced darkly that the villains had
never got his dispatch and hsd taken
themselves off upon a Thanksgiving of
their own, baby began to sob, and silent
tear glazed the purpled cheeks of 'he
Ideal girls.
This Is the tassel upon the cap of
th climax!" said th mother In deadly
calmness. "W will go to th hows
and bleak our way In. Mac starve
w roust we will starve In our bed,
under plenty of blankets,"
Hhe took a child by each hand, pater
familias reshouldered the weeping
baby and we pulled our feet out of the
congealing snow. A plantation of ever
green hid the turn in the path at
which we had our first glimpse of the
cottage. A weak cry fiom U:e children
an astonished snort from the paterfam
ilias, a devout ejaculation frlom the
mother, broke Into the gusty air. For
royal banners of smoke, tinted by the
glowing west, streamed from every
chimney, each window was stained by
scarlet fire-gleams from within; Frank
our faithful watchdog, bounded from
the porch with a bay of welcome, and
at the Joyous yelp the front door was
flung wide open.
Our telegram had arrived in good
season; the sleigh had gone to meet us
by the road, and, being a little behind
time, had missed us, who came across
lots. While our trusty retainers mad
breathless explanations the odor of
roast turkey was borne to ub upon the
flood of warm air pouring through hall
and doorway. Dinner would be on the
table by the time we could get our
selves Into dry clothes.
Never did another dinner taste so
good; never was wood fire more Jolly
than that in which the children roasted
chestnuts, and beside which paterfam
Ilia smoked the cigar of content and
materfamlllas dreamed and moralized.
To the home nook, "curtained and
closed and warm," came the shout of
the wind-god, a very paean of rejoic
ing for mishaps overpast and for the
abundant compensations that crowned
the outgoing of our one eventful
Thanksgiving day. Marlon Harland.
The greatness and supremacy of the
pumpkin are universally acknowledged,
and the fact that It is sometimes called
"punkln" does not detract from Its fair
fame. A golden seed, a golden blos
som, a golden fruit, and, finally, a
golden pie, that lifts one to the realms
of fairy gold, it is not wonderful that
it should gild our passing thoughts at
this particular season and fill our
spirits with liveliest anticipation of
the glories of Thanksgiving. Whether
the pumpkin pie be made at horn by
hand, or n a factory by machinery, th
effect seems to be the same. You can
not taste the wheels in the factory
made pies because th pumpkin pi 1
a wheel itself whose magnificence
dwarfs the other wheels into insignifi
cance. Furthermore, it is pumpkin pie,
and when you say that you hav no
room for hostile argument Th
pumpkin pie, whether square, round or
oblong, la warranted to adjust itself to
any stomach, and that most gracefully
exerting all its powers of elasticity that
the pie may be comfortably located, to
assimilate with the turkey, until th
spirit is suffused with dreams of peace
and resignation, and the diner feels so
kindly toward everybody and every
thing that he refuses to doubt the ac
curacy of Ice-scales and gas meters,
while the fact that the plumber Is re
garded as a moral monstrosity strikes
him as an empty fantasy.
It Is believed by many thinking peo
ple that Thanksgiving was invented to
give the turkey a distinction and a
prestige and to give us a medium
through which to offer our gratitude
while experiencing perennial thrills of
pleasure. The selection of the turkey
for the star part was happy, because
every one likes turkey, be it hot, cold
or canned. Unlike veal, corned beef
and fishballs, the turkey is a concrete
symphony that causes every soul to
ripple in song. Old and young are alike
victims to its peerless quality.
The young eat It with their first
teeth, the middle-aged attack It with
their second, and the old masticate it
with their third or store teeth, and it
is even toothsome to the toothless. The
cranberry' chief distinction is that
which it enjoys in being the tall-end
of the Thanksgiving tcket. The cran
berry sauce is sometimes strained, but
not in Its relations with the turkey.
They go together so harmoniously that
several poets say that the cranberry's
ncarnated smile Is Intensified by the
turkey s flush of pride.
The turkey Is a bird among birds,
dish among dishes, a dream among
Now the festive rural dweller
Descends Into his cellar
To begin a very pleasant
Task, task, task.
While his mouth he opens wider
As he engulfs the sparkling cider,
In his effort to empty the
Cask, caak, cask.
And the college footbal player
Prides himself he is a stayer
To smother his opponent, whom he'll
Malm, maim, malm,
He smiles how he will mangle him,
mother, kick and strangle him,
Till he's taken on a stretcher from the
Game, game, game.
Now we take relaxation
rrom work-day life's vexation,
Waiting gleefully till the dinner bell is
Heard, heard, heard.
For, even where we're boarding
Mrs. Hashcroft Is affording
Up a turkey that simply is a
Bird, bird, bird!
saw the well-filled bin of com, 'twould
last me all the season.
With nuts and bugs and grasshoppers,
enough for more than reason,
gave a gobble, gobble, as loud as I
could scream,
Then I awoke and saw the axe alas
'twas but a dream.
Mr. Gobbler What on earth are we
to do, wife? All our supply of anti-fat
has been used up for Thanksgiving
day, and there's Christmas and New
Year's day still on the calendar.
"No," 'exclaimed the mother turkey.
"I would prefer my children not to as
sociate with those incubator chicks."
"Because they are so heedless and
don't know how to feather their own
nest?" inquired the duck.
"No, it Isn't that so much I have
brooded over," replied the turkey,
"but there's something so artificial
about them."
However, when th Incubator chicks
heard this they thought of the funeral
baked meals of TTiankgivtng and re
marked significantly, "Death levels all
Memories of Past Thanksgiving days
will come to those gathered around
table today, and as the old people tall
of the wonderful events of day now
long gone by, many a youth will sigh
a he thinks they are not half so tin
now. Let him Md hi time, for In fu
ture dsys he will make the young sigh
for th glorle which h will describe.
And so It will run on generation after
"Why, hasn't Mary got back jrttt"
Mr. Blair asked, as be cam In at MMf
and Ralph Duncan, one of Mary's ad
mirers, who wss with him, scowled. .
"No, she hasn't come yet," Mrs. Blair
replied. "And she said positively that
she would be home to tea."
"If a lovely evening for riding. J
think they've come around by the lake,"
said Laura.
Nine o'clock came. Mrs. Blair walked
about uneasily; the boy camped dw
to wait, refusing to go to bed antll
Mary had disclosed to them a pr -ulsed
Ten o'clock.
"This begins to look serious," sal)
Mr. Blair.
"Perhaps she went at once to her
room," suggested Duncan.
"No; I looked before dark," said
All pretense was thrown away; thy
were openly anxious and went in a
body to search the house.
"I'll go and see If anything has been
heard of Dick," said Duncan, wtoa
they gathered again in the parlor.
He rushed away and they waited si
lently, in about twe"r minutes he
came back accompany. ay an excited
young man. t
"I brought Mis 81 Jhome about
6:30," the other said, .
"Impossible!" exclaJV Mr. Blair.
"I swear I did!" hewclared vehe
mently. "I left the bora standing aad
walked to the door with her."
They looked at each other blankly;
then said Mrs. Blair solemnly. "Not S
soul in this place has seen her since
she left with you at 3."
All efforts were useless, and aa the
crowd of searchers gathered toward
evening of the next day there were
many open expressions of opinion that
there had been foul play.
"It is unaccountable, unaccounta
ble!" muttered Mr. Blair, walking th
"Just one person can explain It, aad
that's Dick Roberts," said Duncan
"I have told you all I know over aad
over again. I brought Miss Stan tea
safely home last evening," Dick re
plied. "You were seen about 7 driving en
the Harris road with a woman," Dun
can went on. 'The person could .net
say whthe it was Miss Stanton or net.
Explain that!"
Dick was silent
"Roberts," said Mr. Blair, sternly, "M
you can say anything In explanation
you had better do it."
"Mr. Blair Laura!" Dick cried sud
denly. "Does it seem to you poasibt
that I could have harmed Mary? I
love her. I asked her to be my wife.
I was to wait for an answer until she
had returned , to her home. Do you
think I would harm her under such
"That's your story," Duncan sneered
in Jealous fury. "It remains to be
"He'll have a chance to prove it It
he can," said 'Squire Woods. "Here
comes the officer to arrest him."
But at this instant wild shrieks were
heard, and Cissy flew In screaming:
Papa! Dick! Come come, Mary!"
and she turned back, followed by the
Down the hall she darted, through
the back entry Into the old wing where
there was a large room with a closet
the length of one side. Into this Cissy
dived. "She Is here! She Is here! I
heird her!"
2 lushing her, Mr. Blair listened a
moment, then exclaimed: "It's true!
She is here somewhere."
He struck a match, disclosing a small
door, against which Dick flung him
self furiously, bursting it In.
In a moment he dashed out into th
air with Mary lying limp in his arms.
Half an hour later she had recovered
sufficiently to tell her story.
"I found that little dark place a few
days ago. I was making a secret of It
to tease the boys because they never
had found it, and they play in those
old rooms so much. When Dick left
me last night I went there, intending
to show it to them. They were not
there, but I thought I heard them com
ing, and I called and then ran to th
little closet and pushed the door to,
and somehow it fastened so I could not
open it i
"I called for help, and my voice
sounded so muffled I grew frightened,
fearing no one would ever hear me. It.
seemed to be sealed up almost air-tlgEt
and but for the ratholes I believe I
should have smothered."
A woman came pushing her way In.
"Dick Roberts was with me last
night!" she cried. "My son came home
so crazed with drink that I could do
nothing with him, and I had to go for
help. I met Dick and he went home
with me and stayed until Frank had
gone to sleep. I came as son as I
heard, for I asked Dick to say nothing
about my trouble last evening. I am
very glad that Miss Stanton has been
found. I think you might have known
Dick Roberts better," and she departed
as quickly as she came.
"Oh, Dick, did they think--" Mary
"I don't blame them," Dick broke in.
"It looked hard for me."
"But to think that any one would
suppose that you would" She
stopped and held out her hands. Dick
took them close and kissed the bruises
tenderly; he saw his answer in her
eyes. N. O. Times-Democrat.
A shrewd old farmer once outdid a
jeweler In some transaction and the
Jeweler complained of the way In which
he had been treated, says Tit-Bits.
'Well, 1 11 tell you r.hat I'll do wr
ye, said the farmer, "i n sen ye all my
live stock at five-bob a head, and I'll
let ye come and count them yersel'."
The bargain was struck. The day was
appointed to count and hand over the
stock. The grasping jeweler and his
assistants In due time arrived at the
farm. They totaled up horses, cattle,
sheep, pigs and the rest.
The Jeweler then asked when he could
remove the stock.
'Bide a wee bide a wee," said the
keen old farmer; "ye haven't seen them
all yet."
He then led the party close up to a
dozen beehives, overturned one of the
hives with his foot, and, amid the yells
of the flying party the farmer was
heard shouting: "Count now, ye ras
calscount, count, count!"
Don't talk about dyspepsia on
Thanksgiving day. Don't allow the
yellow-vlsaged ghost of biliousness to
sit st the fesst. Forget your liver for
the time being. Time enough for that
tomorrow, or next week. Tou have
got all the rest of your lifetime to talk
about your stomach. Keep silent about
It on Thanksgiving day.
That which is popularly known as
th "funny bone." just at the point of
tne eiaow, in reality not a bone at
an, out a Mfse tnat nee near u ir.
r, ,
race ana wicn, on getting a Mew
knock, oauees tne wen known V
sensation la the srms and tafA