THE PUMPKIN.
Oh, greenly and fair in tha lands of the
sun.
The vines of the gourd and the rich mel
on run,
And the rook and the tree and the cot
tage enfold.
With broad leaves all greenness and blos
soms ail gold.
Like that which o'er Nineveh's prophet
once grew.
While we waited to know that his warn
ing was true.
And longed for the storm-cloud. and ,
listened In vain
For the rush of the whirlwind and red !
fire-rain.
On the banks of the Xoml, tha dark
Spanish maiden
Comes up with the fruit of the tangled
vine laden;
And the Creole of Cuba laugbs out to be
hold
Through the orange leaves shining the
broad spheres of gold;
Yet with dearer delight from his home in
the north.
On the fields of his harvest the Yankee
looks forth.
Where the crook-necks are colling and
yellow fruit shines.
And the sun of September melts down
on his vines.
Ah! on Thanksgiving Day, when from
east and from west.
Front north and from south come the pil
grim and guest.
When the gray-haired New-Er.giander
sees round his hoard
The old broken links of affection restor
ed.
When the care-wearied man seeks Ills
mother once more.
And the worn matron smiles where the
girl smiled before.
What moistens the lip and what bright
ens the eye'.'
What calls back tlie past, like tlie rich
pumpkin-pie?
Oh. fruit loved of boyhood! tlie old days
recalling;
When wood-grapps were purpling and
brown nuts were falling!
When wild, ugly faces we carved In its
skin.
Glaring out through the dark with a
candle within!
The good people of the church at
Elmville had decided that something
must be done, and at once. The
treasurer, a young man, who hail re
cently come to the village, had made
a financial statement that October
Sunday morning, upon which certain
persons felt very much scandalised.
Such a thing had never been done be
fore—not even thought of; then it re
vealed the fact that the Reve.end Wes
ley Norwood had received but $51.75
for six morths of faithful service.
“I don’t believe in bringing up such
mattem In the religious services of
the chinch,-' growled Brother Cook,
who always protested that it was a
•waste of money to pay the minister so
much salary.
"I quite agree with you." responded
Mr. Barnes. He was not a member of
the church, but attended because it
was a respectable thing to do—gave
you standing. "If these things must
come up every Sunday, I siia'l attend
church elsewhere."
Notwithstanding this, it was gener
ally agreed that it was a shame, and
something must lie done. But when
things had gone in a haphazard way
ao long it was no easy matter to face
right about. After several weeks of
deliberation, the necessary sonietiiing
seemed as far from accomplishment as
ever.
"It Is too bad that they do not col
lect the pastor’s salary." remarked
Mrs. Hunter at the Ladles’ Aid meet
ing. Who she meant by “they’’ was
not entirely dear, inasmuch as she
was one of the officers.
"If no one else will do anything, we
must.” rejoined Mrs. Allen; the vari
ous members nodded approval.
It was soon planned. The pastor
had received $51.75; they would pay
him $98.25—make it even $150—and
have enough left in thp treasury for
incidental matters. On Thursday
evening of next week, which was
Thanksgiving,they would invite them
selves to the parsonage, and have a
r
1
“WHAT SHALL WE DO?”
Rood time while making the pastor
happy. It w'ould be easy to prepare
something extra while getting ready
for Thanksgiving. It was to be a
grand secret; not a soul but members
of the socie'v should know a word of
It.
At the elose of the business meet
ing of the A'oung People's League, the
president made a close scrutiny to as
sure himself that all present were
members; he then proposed that, as
"They would not do anything," the
League take up the matter.
“I understand that we have nearly
sixty do’lars in the treasury; we could
pay the pastor $48.50—bring the sal
ary up to ? 100—and have enough left
to pay all bills and begin the new year
out of debt. If we do this 1 suggest
that we observe the utmost secrecy
and make it a complete surprise." All
readily am pop ro the plan and pledged
the proper reticence in the matter.
Four of the most faithful met after
prayer meeting to^discuss the situa
tion. and decided that they must at
once collect $248.25. the balance nec
essary to pay the six months' salary
due. This they proceeded to do so
quietly that no one surmised a gen
era! canvass was being marie, Hefore
Sunday the entire amount was secured.
t iHiay, aner scnooi. the Junior
Leaguers met and decided that inas
much as the grown up folks would
not help in the matter, they would do
what they could; so they voted to pay
over every bit there was in the
treasury. Upon counting $23.25 was
found to be the correct amount.
“Oh, girls!” cried Lottie Newman,
as she made some figures in the treas
urer’s book, “It will make just even
$75 and I hope we can get enough to
make it a hundred."
After the choir had run over the
Sunday hymns, someone proposed*lhat
they pay the proceeds of the last con
cert on the salary. The sum of $30.25;
after referring to the margin of his
anthem tmok, the chorister reported
that it wmild make $82 all told. On
Thanksgiving morning they would
call at the parsonage and surprise the
pastor with a check for this amount.
Perhaps it would somewhat atone for
the sin of whispering during the ser
mon.
Thanksgiving day was a trying time
for the Norwoods. 'File baby was sick
the nigh* before and kept them
awake; and when they did get to
rest, they overslept. What with rush
ing to get breakfast over and make
ready for the service at church, pray
ers were shortened and the chapter
omitted altogether.
“Oh, Wesley. 1 am so tired! Every
thing has gone wrong today.” said
Mrs. Norwood that afternoon. “The
children mver were so naughty before.
What will peoplu say about Robbie
fighting? The flour-barrel is empty,
the potatoes are all gone, and we have
not a tiling in the house for breakfast,
only bread and butter; and the grocer
sent us word yesterday that we could
not have another thing until we paid
him. What shall we do?” After
which lengthy and somewhat incoher
ent speech, she laid her head on his
shoulder and found refuge in tears.
"Never mind, Dear; the Lord will
provide”; then he slowly added, as
if in an afterthought, “some way.”
A few minutes later Pastor Norwood
was bowing to the organist, who slip
ped a check in his hand and said prop
erly, "With the compliments of the
choir." Just as they were seated, the
door bell rang again, and this time the
Junior league marched en masse and
the astonished minister stood speech
less with a check in either hand. Then
the ol<rer League came, and pres
ently the Ladies' Aid, and last of all
the trustees, all adding their offerings
and crowding the small rooms. Each
party looked stiffly askance at the
others, wondering by what trickery
their secret had become known.
After an hour of discourse and song,
the treasurer arose and said:
"A few days since our pastor had
received but a mere pittance for many
months of faithful labor. While he
had wrought earnestly for the church
and its societies, so that, for the first
time in years, all were in a prosperous
condition, he unselfishly forgot his
own needs. No, no! Brother Nor
wood, you must permit me to finish.
Then one society and another,by some
strange coincidence, conceived the
thought of giving the pastor a pleas
ant Thanksgiving surprise. It is need
less to say that we have surprised each
other quite as well. But best of all, I
find that in the few days of uncon
scious co-operation, we have increased
the amount paid on salary to just five
hundred dollars. This shows what we
can do if we all work together. I
move you as a congregation, that we
increase our pastor's salary from six
hundred to eight hundred dollars a
year.
It was carried with a rush, even
Brother Cook assenting. Pastor Nor
wood arose, and with tears of joy
trickling down his cheeks, thanked
them simply. Some said they sung
the doxology as- never before; at least
there were two voices that rang out
with a new inspiration of faith.
When they were once more at home,
and the children in bed, Wesley Nor
THEY READ TOGETHER,
wood again took his wife In his arms
and opening his Bible at a place much
marked and worn, they read together
with the guileless faith of children,
"And it shall come to pass that before
they call, I will answer; and while
they are yet speaking, I will hear."
Centuries Old.
Days of festival thanksgiving have
been celebrated for many centuries.
I’nder the old Mosaic law the Hebrews
held an annual harvest festival under
the trees and in tents of palm. The
German Protestants have an annual
"Harvest Home” festival, accompanied
by religious services, and this custom
was brought to America by the early
Dutch Immigrants.
Thanksgiving for us today is a time
for rejoicing that life has been spared
to us and that we have escaped many
dangers, overcome many trials and en
joyed many pleasures during the last
year. It is also a time when we
should remember kindly those who
have been less fortunate and should
put forth some special effort to mak«
them happier.
The night before Thanksgiving I
found mamma sitting alone by the
window in the dark, and when I put
my cheek against hers it was ail wet,
and I said out quick:
"Oh, pretty mamma, what is the mat
ter?" and cried, too.
“1 was thinking about your uncle
Jefferson," she answered, then she
dried her eyes and mine. "He will
btf the only one who will not be here
at our Thanksgiving dinner.”
"But why don't he ever come?" I
said.
"Three years ago he had a misun
derstanding with your father,” said
mamma.
“That means a quarrel,” I said.
"What did he quarrel about?”
"The pronunciation of a word,” said
mamma.
"The way a word ought to be spok
en?” 1 asked.
"Yes,” said mamma.
1 thought that such a queer thing
"MY POOR CHILD, WHAT DO YOU
WANT?"
to quarrel about, but I did not say
anything, for, of course, big folks
know best.
"It was on Thanksgiving Day three
years ago,” said mamma, "and he has
never been in the house since.”
“He must be very cross and bad,"
I said.
“No, indeed. Hilda," said mamma
“He is a splendid doctor, and very kind
to the poor. He is ready to go and
see them any time, day or night. I
have often known him to take the
ragged little children who were sent
for him in his gig."
Then she said again: "They will
ail be here but he."
"Shall I go and ask him to come?"
I said after a while. “ I know where
he lives."
"No, Hilda, he would not listen to
you," said mamma.
“If I was a ragged little' girl would
he come?” I asked.
"He might,” said mamma. Then
she sat very quiet and looked out of
the window for a long time, and I
knew she was thinking about Unci*
Jefferson.
Next day every one came—grand
ma. grandfather and all my aunts, un
cles and cousins, big and little
The table in the dining room was
bright and glittering with pretty glass,
silver and flowers. Every one seemed
happy, but I knew just by her face
that mamma was still thinking,
“They are all here but Uncle Jeffer
son.”
So I went up to her and said:
"Maybe Uncle Jefferson will come
after all. mamma,” but she shook her
head and the tears came into her eyes.
"Would he come if I was a lagged
little girl and asked him?” I said.
"He might,” said mamma "He is
always so very good to poor chil
dren.”
“Then I will go and bring him,” I
said to myself, and ran away. Dinner
would not he ready for an hour, so I
had plenty of time. I left all my
cousins playing and talking together.
I was afraid some one would call me
back, but I got away without being
seen and went into mammas room
and into a closet, where I knew an
old coat of papa’s hung. I knew no
one would mind, so I got the big
scissors and cut off some of the sleeves,
then I put it on; but it was so long
that I could not walk, so I cut off the
to make it. ragged.
I climbed up on a chair after I was
dressed and peeped into the glass. 1
looked just like a poor, poor little beg
gar girl. It almost made me cry.
"I hope I am ragged enough to suit
Uncle Jefferson,” l said, and I ran
down stairs and out of the door. No
one heard me.
When 1 reached Uncle Jefferson’s
office his gig was standing at the door,
so I waited close by until he came out
of the house. I was afraid that after
all he would not listen, but the mo
ment he saw me he stopped aud looked
at me all over through his glasses.
"Dear, dear, he said, "my poor
child, what do you want"
"1 want you to come and see mam
ma," I said.
He answered right away. “Certainly;
jump in and tell the boy where to
drive."
When the black boy lifted me into
the gig he laughed and said:
“ Well, little rag-bag, where shall I
take you?”
Just that moment 1 forgot our num
ber. so 1 pointed.
Uncle Jefferson sat down on the
other side of me, and away we went..
Well, before 1 knew it, the boy drove
down the wrong street, but there was
a gate into our back garden in this
street, and I told him to stop there.
It was very dark in the garden, but
I went straight up to the dining-room
door. Uncle Jefferson following close
I behind. As I ran up the steps I threw
away the old coat and handkerchief,
for I knew mamma wanted me to look
nice.
When I pushed open the door and
called out, “Here is Uncle Jefferson,"
every one stopped talking and turned
around.
Well. I don’t know what happened
after that, but anyhow in a few mo
ments they were all shaking hands,
and mamma was cryfng, but this time
she looked so happy.
When at last they all sat down, I
next to mamma on one side and Uncle
Jefferson on the other, she said: “You
dear little fairy, how did you man
age to make him come?"
Then I told her about the old coat,
and she told everybody else, and they
laughed, Lncle Jefferson louder than
all the others.
Mamma said it was the very hap
piest Thanksgiving Day she had ever
known, and all my cousins said it was
the very best Thanksgiving dinner
ever eaten.
Well, after that day Uncle Jeffersor.
and I were the best of friends, ano
he always called me his Thanksgiving
fairy.
I move iny arm-chair to the door that
fronts the autumn wold.
And gaze upon the stately trees, proud
In their garb of gold:
The quail her brood Is railing whore the
brooklet runs away
To find the sea, and Nature smiles this
glad Thanksgiving day.
The years have touched my hair with
gray, but still above me flies
The fairest flag that flaunts its folds
against the azure skies.
I watch It in its beauty as it floats 'twixt
sea and sea.
From every lofty mountain top o'er peo
ple truly free.
No war within our borders, we can all
rejoice to-day;
At peace with all the nations far beyond
the dashing spray!
Our navies rims in every sea, our honor
Is as true
As when was first baptized in blood the
old Ked, White and Blue.
I thunk the loving Father, He who
watches over all.
For blessings on our land bestowed from
, mountain wall to wall:
!• or harvests that were bountiful from
far Dakota’s plain
To Where the old Penobscot rushes 'neath
the pines of Maine.
I seem to eateh the echoes of an anthem
in the South,
Where sings the golden oriole In some
grim canon's mouth:
And the laurel and the cedar and the
branching chestnut tree
Grow side by side, where once were
pitched the tents of Grant and Dee.
1 hear no more the battle drums that
beat in manhood's day.
For side by side, fore'er at peace, are
standing Blue and Gray:
Together they are marching to the des
tiny of fame,
And each one crowns vGth deathless
wreath our country's noble name.
I dream of coming ages which our na
tion loved will crown
With mighty triumphs which to her shall
give a new renown:
Until In conscious wonder every country
’neath the sun
Shall ring with lofty plaudits for the land
of Washington.
We’re marching on to greater tilings, as
vcsHids sweep the sea:
And each Thanksgiving tills our hearts
with blessings yet to be.
America is destined, if to God we’re only
true.
To fie the favored nation ’neatli the can
opy of blue.
Then let tile bells all ring today through
out our cherished clime;
I.ot old and young with pride rejoice this
glad Thanksgiving time;
Del paeans rise from morn till eve and
nothing come to mar
The hope that rules our happy land be
neath Ihe stripe and star.
The winds blow through the autumn
boughs; methlnks I hear a tread.
A merry laugh anrl u little hand is laid
upon my head;
And soft lips touch my wrinkled cheek.
and this is what they say;
’Tve come to kiss you, grandpa, dear, t
thankful kiss to-day!”
My eyes grow misty as my arms abou.
tile wee one twine;
I cannot see the meadow and the wood
land's golden line;
My old. old heart beats faster, as it bul*
hies o'er with bliss.
And silently I'm thankful for the swej
Thanksgiving kiss.
Tin y Call Ade “All-Day."
No writing, it is said, of Mr. George
Ade's has so amused his admiring
readers ns has the pronunciation of
his name by the majority of those
admiring readers amused Mr. George
Ade, How it started no one seems to
know, but most persons in this part
of the country, the New York Sun
says, speak of him as Mr. Ah-day
(accent on the day). Call it that in
Chicago where he lives, and they
wouldn't know whom you were talk
ing about. The author himself pro
nounces him name as though it were
spelled “Aid.”
Ill* Wonderful ‘'Potato*.**
An interesting agricultural item Is
reprtrited in the lyindon Times from
its issue of October 10, 1801: “A Mr.
Va-lier of Heckford farm, near Poole,
last year planted one Potatoe, which
produceed him 335 in number, and
there would have been still more had
not a boy lost one of the eyes after
the Potatoe was cut in' pieces. The
Farmer having saved the whole of
them, had then planted, which he has
now dug up, and finds that they have
multiplied to the number of 9,236 and
weigh 13 cwt., 3 qrs., which certainly
is a very great increase from one sin
gle root in two years."
Rliruuiallsiu and tlie Ejrn.
Chicago, 111., Nov. 18th.—Mr. R. A.
Wade, the celebrated criminal lawyer
of this city whose opinion on legal
matters is unquestioned, has recently
made public his unqualified opinion on
a matter of medicine. Mr. Wade says
that Rheumatism and Kidney Trouble
affect the eyesight, and further that
there is no case of the kind that can
not be cured by Dodd's Kidney Pills.
He has no fear of being set right by
any of his medical friends, for both
statements have a living and indis
putable proof in the person of the
great lawyer himself, who as a result
of Rheumatism and Kidney Trouble
from which he suffered for years, be
came totally blind.
Physicians, the best in the country,
pronounced his case incurable and
hopeless, but Dodd's Kidney Pills
cured him, restored his sight, drove
away the Kidney Trouble and with it
the Rheumatism and made an all
around well man of him.
Harried a Chinaman for Spit*.
A new species of revenge has been
discovered in New Jersey. A woman
there had trouble with her husband,
and ran away from him and married a
Chinaman. An obliging minister of
New York performed the ceremony.
When brought into court the woman
set up no defense. “I had no use for
the Chink,” she said. “I only married
him to spite my husband.” "There is.
then, something new under the sun,”
remarked the Solomon on the bench.
When Yon Order
Baker's Chocolate or Baker's Cocoa
examine the package you receive and
make sure that it bears the well known
trade-mark of the chocolate girl. There
are many imitations of these choice
goods on the market. A copy of Miss
Parloa's choice recipes will be sent
free to any housekeeper. Address
Walter Baker & Co., Ltd., Dorchester,
Mass.
A Hlackstone Memorial.
Mrs. T. B. Blackstone, widow of the
late president of the Chicago & Alton
railroad, has presented the city of Chi
cago with a library building, to be put
up at the intersection of Forty-fifth
street and Washington and Lake ave
nues. as a memorial to Mr. Black
stone. Though it will be a branch of
the main public library, the building
will have a complete equipment of its
own.
GOOD nOl SEKEEI’KRS
Use the l>est. That's why they buy Red
Cross Ball Blue. At leading grocers, 0 ceuts.
Love never turns its microscopes on
our faults.
Pino's Cure caiinot be loo highly spoken of sa
a cough cure.— J. W. o Hrien, 322 Third Ava,
N., Minneapolis. Minn., Jau. 6. 1V0U.
Time lost in mending nets is saved
in catching fish.
IRONING A SHIRT WAIST.
Not infrequently a young woman
finds it necessary to launder a shirt
waist at home for some emergency
when the laundryman or the home ser
vant cannot do it. Hence these direc
tions for ironing the waist: To iron
summer shirt waists so that they will
look like new it is needful to have
them starched evenly with Defiance
starch, then made perfectly smooth
and rolled tight in a damp cloth, to be
laid away two or three hours. When
ironing have a bowl of water and a
clean piece of muslin beside the iron
ing board. Have your iron hot, but
not sufficiently so to scorch, and abso
lutely clean. Begin by ironing the
back, then the front, sides and the
sleeves, followed by the neckband and
the cuffs. When wrinkles appear ap
ply the damp cloth aud remove them.
Always iron from the top of the waist
to the bottom. If there are plaits in
the front iron them downward, after
first raising each one with a blunt
knife, and with the edge of the iron
follow every line of stitching to give it
distinctness. After the shirt waist is
ironed it should be well aired by the
fire or in the sun before it is folded
and put away, says the Philadelphia
Inquirer.
EUIhoii’k "Boo.,*
T homas A. Edison is very deaf. Ow
ing to a playful pleasantry he has in
vented a sort of shorthand speech
among which is his greeting to the
older hands in his shop and labora
tory. When he sees one of these men
•'Boo!” says Mr. Edison, which has
come to mean good morning, or goou
afternoon, or good night. The labra
torr »en have picked up the peculiar
gretting, so that when the “boss" ap
pears in the morning he is greeted in
his own shorthand speech- -Boo Mr
Edison.” ’ * '
