W A S H IN G T O N
COUNTY
H A TC H E T
T H A N K S G IV IN G AT H O M E.
All hall! all ball! Oh. rare and antique bird
That lately ou the venerable tree.
¡Colled In u bull o f (deep, the chill winds
hoard
Moaning In mournful gaits thlno elegy!
No m oi“ the sun will gild they red cravat,
Or ripple ou 'thv wing;
For time hath caught thee, even ns the cat
1
Catches the gray and agile whiskered Tat;
And now thy praise we sing.
Gathered upon the board, serene and gay.
A
l'pou Thanksgiving Day.
%
il/V
O, It’s early in the mornln’ that a feller must
be rlsln,'
Thanksglvln' Day. like Christmas time, It
comes but wuast a year.
The birds are stuffed an' roastin’ with an
odor a p p rizin ',
The ppmpkln pies are bakin’ an' the elder
flowin’ freer.
There’ s piles an’ piles o’ cookies, an* there’s
doughnuts till you're dizzy.
There’s mounds an* mounds o f Jelly, un’
there’s biscuits browned an’ light.
A ll the n.ornln’ In the kitchen mother’s been
most awful busy,
O, you bet I ’ m mighty thankful that I own
an appetite.
Tw o lonely, solemn turkeys, sole survivors
o f the flock,
Are n-struttln’ round tho yard with a kind
o’ anxious air.
The sort o’ sudden absence o f their friends
Is quite a shock.
An’ they're searchlu’ fe r their late lament
ed rrojib-s everywhere.
W ith spreadln’ tails and feathers fluffed
their quest they keep pursuin';
They don’ t suspect their fate will be the
others' gloomy lot.
They notice how we’ re fusslu’ an’ they won
der what we’ re doin'.
O, you bet I ’ m mighty thankful that a tur
key I am not.
The folks they keep arrivin’ brlmmln’ o’er
with fun an’ laughter.
Bluff uncles shake my hand until the bones
begin to crack.
Girl cousins shyly kiss me—Jes’ exactly what
I*in a ft e r -
An’ with promptitude quite lightning-like
I gayly kiss ’em back.
But one o f them, the fairest maid o f all my
fnir relations.
To steal my heart by wltchln’ art* soroe-
. bow she does contrive,
W hile In her eyes I read a tale beyond my
expectations.
O. you bet I’ m mighty thankful—mighty
thankful—I'rrt alive.
THANKSGIVING
Ho was not a bad man at heart. But
. the very qualities which moved some peo
ple to call him a “ jolly good fellow ” were
identical with ’ those which made other
'people consider him a bad citizen, and,
with the usual emphasis o f people who
take , the, downward view, a very bad
*
citizen.
I
When his w ife died he seemed to.awake
f with a sudden shock to the issues o f life
ft and the fact of death. H e had loved her
S, with nil that marvelous depth o f tendeiS
■» uess, l hat inconsistent fervor which some-
^ times underlies the weakest natures.
In ike newness o f his grief he foreswore
his old ways aqd habits. l i e knew him
self ti> bq weak, H e fancied the way to
strength o f resistance lay along the road
o f seif-exile to strange scenes and; un
familiar faces—that road well worn by the
restless feet of those who fly from the
battle within to wage art unequal struggle
with tho allies without.
T lo left his little son, made doubly dear
to him by the sense o f loss, with his w ife’ s
cousin, gave to her what modey he could
spare for the child’s support, promised to
send more at regular iutervals, aud de
parted westward.
More than a year later he roused him
self as if the linger o f fate had touched
him. l i e remembered, with an anguished
regret, that he had failed again; that for
months he had drifted from place to
place, lie himself scarcely knew where or
how. He remembered’ that his promised
remittances for the boy had ceased, lie
V saw himself broken in strength, in health,
'A in spirit. He felt suddenly overpowered
n, with the consciousness o f his own \Veak-
• I ness, and, as a drowning man’s anhs
/ reach wildly out toward any illusion of
help, his thought went out toward his
- child.
It seemed to him that the love o f his
hoy could save him. The miracle o f sal
vation became to him possible, wherein a
little child, strong in lo^o and innocence
j ami faith, should lift th*» fainting, failiug
jj manhood of the mnn.
V
A passionate yearning seized him to
fold again to his lienrt *he little form, to
feel anoiit his nock the clinging arms, to
7
hear again tho lisping words which came
'
to his weakened memory like distant
echoes in a dream. And then lie remem
bered the day when first the child was
laid in his arms; he remembered the
thrill, the wonder, the first pride o f fath
erhood. Then, in brok »n glimpses, as a
fnir landscape is seen between blurs of
mist, there came to him mem<»cics in swift
succession, of the growth, the incidents
of the child’ s few years.
“ I must go to him,” whispered the man
w with a gasp, as he lifted his head from
, his hands. His face was flushed, tears
\
stood in his eyes.
His resolution was
■C carried out with feverish haste, and he
/ turned his face to the East.
His w ife’ s relative had little excuse for
him.
She had long mnsjdered him a
hopeless vagabond. So when he appeared
suddenly, ms from the possible, and, ill
her opinion, better, dead, she was not pre
pared to receive him with especial cordial
ity. The story was soon told. The boy
had died months before. He slept by his
mother. No one had known where to ad
dress 'he father, who was supposed to
have forgotten he had l son. She was
really not much surprised *t the apathy
with which the father listened. It was
consistent with her estimate o f his char
acter.
She had no means o f knowing
that his faculties were stunned. But she
was astonished beyond measure when, in
n mechanical way, he insisted upon giving
her money for the expense of earing for
anil burying the boy.
“ la diat quite all?” he kept asking. And
then, abruptly but quickly, he said:
“ Good-by, Fin going ba< k.”
He knew that his hope was dead; he
felt the certainty o f fall now that nothing
rquiaiped to him to lean upon. Hut he
thought o f other things.
•
A sleety mist filled the air. sparkling in
rtie street lights like a maty shower of
brilliants. The particles stung his face
like elfin arrows.
His features were
tense an^l rigid. His eyes were hot aud
dry and his head ached with u dull, in
sistent. maddening pain
He passed the
Colored globes o f ft dr ug store and s opped.
Red, violet, and green fhe shafts o f light
pierced the dark. The people ubout him
seemed shadows, the sound of their voices
leagues away. Dimly he remembered a
prescription for an opiate he had used for
headaches like that.
Fumbling in his
pockets he found the paper and entered
the store.
“ Make twice the number of powders,”
he said to the clerk. “ I don’ t want to
bother getting the stuff so often.”
The clerk hesitated.
“ Nonsense,” said the man. “ I ’m per
fectly familiar with the use o f it. G ive
me one o f thetu now with a glass o f
water.”
Then he went into thp street again with
the packet of powders in his pocket, and
already the mere taking o f the drug had
somewhat soothed him. He felt hushed;
his mind seemed to clear and lift itself
Into a curious*, impersonal attitude. As
he walked he found himself quite willing
to contemplate calmly the sodden pain at
his heart, the utter hopelessness aud use-
o f bread aud butter.
T H A N K S G IV IN G S O N N E T*
To God give thanks! From every,fciU and
plain
Thefruitsofautum n «Town.the dying year
The ghost o f flowery summer hovers near
A h If regretful for her shortened reign.
The harvest o f the year revplvea again-“
The wine o f life Is In the atmosohere
For those to whom heqlth holds lien ehrtllee
“ ¡ear.
And healing comes from. breath o f "ripened
grain.
Now o'er the gayly decorated land
The granaries are tilled fi^m bn*e to brim;
The frosj-sword strews the leaves on every
hand
In combat with the sunbeams’ rapler»t jlltn.;
Aud heard throughout earth’s scenes’ of
beauty grand
*
/. ' .
The grateful toilers chant their harvest
hymn.
* • *
bills he knew was there. He remembered
approxim ately the amount:
Brushing
past the pleading child at his feet, he
went abruptly into.the restaurant. After
a brief interview wita the manager he re
turned to the door.
.
“ W ho Wants a Thanksgiving dinner?”
he osketk. T w o or1 three vriiees sflid "M e !”
explosively-’ but for the rest an incredu
lous stftr.e nlope responded» Until; one. hoy
said, slowly and 1 reproachfully: "*Ah-h,
g’ way! You’re givin‘ ns guff!”
1. J
yf
vl
“ Ah-K, pickles! repented the children.
“ And-pie-- shall it be mince pie or apple
Thou’ rt nobler than the eunrashack or gm>ae.‘^ ,|'
pieV” he asked.
¡ordly shanghai or the ortolan.
This question requir'd pondering, and Or L’tie
any other minstrel that Is loose
^
a youthful Alexander «-lit the Gordian
I ri'in Tuscaloosa to C ap « Mary Ann.
CompHied with thee the woodcock Is n mere
knot by saying: “ Le*a have b o f e . ”
' Delusion- all In all;
“ Jlwtv here.” said the man to a boy
The upland plover ne'er can be thy peer,
who scrambled for the «»at at his right Livable thee to the epicure and s<er
tf
hand. “ When there's only one lady in
The prairie hen is small;
the company the seat, of honor should be Thou art the bird o f freedom, anyway.
long to her,”
T h e man touched her hand reassuringly
and turned to his left, where sat the little
newsboy. Ivong and steadily he looked
into the child’s face.
“ He, too, had blue eyej.” he murmured,
with a catch of the breath as for a brief
instant* his own eyelids closed and he bit
his lip. ' 1 * '
A t last, when each child had eaten two
pieces of pie, even to the last crumb, the
tnan "ose to his feet, clutching at his chair
for support, -fyle brushed his hand across
his eyes. Strange lights danced before
him, c^upsop and golej; The ,uir was popu-
‘JPus \fcith uuknpwu ^shapes, weaving in
slow mazes; soft melodics sang in his enrs
as*from infinite distnuce3, thrilling, uncer-
-----1 t
*
T/:
I
lessness of his life. W ith a mocking per
sistence the many resolves he hud mude
to himself, the efforts to change, the ever-
succeeding failure surged up before him.
and his lip curled in contemptuous scorn
of himself. Never did a man hold himself
up to more merciless s-rutiny, more in
tolerant judgment.
In his abstraction he nearly fell upon a
group o f wretched children of the street
who stood clustered ubout a restaurant
window.
And such a window I The light of mel
low globes tt«Hided it. It was decked with
holiday greens. In the »enter, on a plat
ter sprigged with parsley, reposed brown
and crisp, a roasted pig, with the reddest
o f apples in its mouth. On each side a
fair, fat turkey, dressed for the oven, lay
in state. lobsters, in their scarlet coats,
brown quail with heuds tucked under
their wings to swell out the pitiful little
breasts, and divers other resources aud
accessories of the culinary art lent color
and suggestiveness to the tableau.
The man stopped. A tiny fellow, about
as large as his own boy would have been,
but ragged and dirty and shivering, as by
God’ s mercy his own never would be. lift
ed a newspaper up to him and piped in a
shrill little voice:
“ Buy a paper, mister, to help me git a
T ’ anksgivin’ dinner!
“ Is this Thanksgiving?” asked the man
with k dull surprise.
“ Sure!” said the boy. “ Don’t y ’ see dat
lay-out in de winder?"
The man looked at *he window. He
had not noticed it before. H e stared at
the children. H e put his hand in his
trousers pocket sad felt the small roll of
For answer the man opened the door,
and the children, without, more ado, clum
sily shuttled past him. All save one. a
girl with an accordion slung from her
shoulder and the black locks o f Italy
straying from under the red kerchief on
her head. She paused with a look o f in
quiry.
“ Does de girl come?” asked a boy.
“ She’s a purty good feller—for a girl.”
“ Yes, come along,” said the man, with
an affectation o f cheerfulness.
“ In a
time ‘ike this female suffrage goes.”
They were led by a grinning waiter to
a private dining-room where a long table
st<Hid shrouded as with new-fallen snow;
and whi e the children were taken to wash
their hands aud faces, the man, whose
head tnrobbed afresh as he came in from
the outer air. took in a glass of brandy
two o f the powders from the package in
his pocket.
“ Bring U9 a real old Thanksgiving din
ner,” he said to the waiter, “ anil plenty of
it. without too many frills. Some soup
and- some turkey---- ”
He paused and
looked archly at the children, who caught
the spirit o f his glance and shouted: “ Yes,
yes!”
“ Yes, some turkey with cranberry
sauce-----”
The I my newsboy hugged himself and
murmured: “ Gramb’ ry sauce!”
“ And some scalloped oysters.” contin
ued the man, stopping after the mention
o f ea-’ h delicacy to w a’ ch the children,
who shivered with eagerness and punctu
ated each pause with approving nods and
m arm tiring echoes, “ and some sweet po-
With Jt.y we so»1 thee lying on thy back,
Thy chaste, lush drumsticks sticking In
the uir;
Thy wings in sweet peace folded, and, alnck,
The Incense of tliy stutllng. pungent, rare.
Filling our souls with heavenly melody.
The while with fork and knife
Thv dark meat and thy white meat fondly we
Suffuse with gravy In our revelry.
.
And then, with pleasure rife,
l'\
Fa eh dainty morsel neatly tuck away
*
t'pon Thanksgiving Day.
¡,VJ,
tain, rising and falling as with the swell
o f an invisible sea.
“ Ohildren,” his own voice sounded re
mote and dissevered from his, “ good
night. Have you had a go«n! dinner?”
The vociferous assent recalled his stray
ing fancies. H e saw his guests multi
plied as in a room wailed with mirrors.
Being of unceremonious habit, they
stood not upon the ord^r o f their going
and st hid were gone. As the little news
boy slid down from his chair the man laid
a hand o*i the child’ s tangled head and
gazed in his face with a look of yearning
tenderness. The boy h,«k*d startled anJ
hurried awry.
" I t naa a grpat success." said the man
to the waiter as he laid a bill on the cash
ier s tray. H e uttered his words with hes-
itating precision.
Raketl
lit u a * i
G lace»
and
"B o u n k in
1 le a I ’ A m e r i c a l n e .”
A few years ago one o f the diplomatic
corps, in I'aris complimented some Am er
ican visitors by giving a Thanksgiving
dinner.
He made some elaborate re
searches regarding our national customs
us applied to the day and with help o f his
chef offered among other things baked
beans, well thlnped with custard and
frozen. The crowning glory o f the feast
was a pumpkin pie. Its crust was shing
ly puff paste fully an inch thick. The
pumpkin was Merely a filmy glaze upon
the paste, with a taffy-like consistency
that made if cling to the eater’ s teeth.
The chef must have imparted the secret
to the national pie, at least in part, to
others of his craft, for a little later a
well-known restaurateur announced on
a little placard at his establishment:
“ Bounkin Fie a la Am éricaine.”
In Berlin the traveler will find, if he is
there in November, an addition -to the
menu o f some places of refreshment. The
addition is a flourishing announcement to
Americans that Indian puddings, bean
paddings, puntpkin tarts, and other delica
cies, which the waiter will affably say
are for the American “ Danksgiving,” hut
which only resemble the originals they
imitate as the mist resembles the rain.
Foreign restaurants pride themselves
upon catering to American ‘ciistomers’
tastes, but their translations are striking
and worked out laboriously from the dic
tionary. One Berlin hotel proudly put
upon the menu, “ False hair stewed Am er
ican fashion.” It requires some penetra
tion to discover that a dish o f smothered
beef known to us as mock rabbit is
meant.
A Russian o f wealth and position hav
ing gathered accurate knowledge o f In
dian corn and the ways it should be serv
ed some years ago, invited some English
and American friends to dinner and, after
a little preliminary boast o f the success
his gardner had made in cultivating the
vegetable, presented his guests with tiny
immature cobs an inch and a half long,
boiled till tender and served like aspara
gus tips with a rich cream dressing. An
American present found it difficult to
maintain a circumspect gravity when the
hostess asked him if it was true that in
America this corn was always eaten with
the fingers, for in view o f the dripping
oars she was daintily lifting, one at a
time, upon her fork, ho had to assure her
that she was eating it in tho only proper
manner.
T h o C r o w n in g o f th o Y e a r .
This is the festival which the Pilgrim
fathers inaugurated, which N ew England
has annually celebrated for two centuries,
and which the nation lias adopted and I
sanctioned as a day of public thanksgiv
ing to God.
It exalts tho home and
strengthens its sacred and tender ties.
It brightens the shadows w’ liich have
gathered over it. I t dignifies prosperity.
It prompts men to reach out helpful
hands to their leas fortunate neighbors.
It reminds us afresh from whence every
good gift comes. I f it seemed good to
our fathers in the midst o f the hardships
of this new world to give public thanks
to God for blessings, how much more
reason have we to follow their example? >
Abundance o f food and clothing, happy f
homes, a free country at peace with a im
nations and extending its influen^** ^
throughout the world, with marvelously
multiplied appliances for use and pleas
ure which surpass the wildest dreams
of those who first were moved to set
apart a day o f public thanksgiving and
praise, are ours. W h at shall I render un
to the Lord for all H is benefits toward
me? I will take the cup o f salvation, and//
call upon the name o f the I^jrd.
T ic k le t o o t h P u d d in g .
“ It - - is — the — oniy- pood—thing—I —
“ Tickletooth pudding” was the name of
erer— lid—in—my—life.- and then he
the Thanksgiving pudding o f old colonial
laughed aloud.
'lh e waiter smiled oompiaisant!y; the tip days. It was only a memory o f the great
was large enough to cover many ecen- progenitor o f that name which the pil
grims had left at home in old England.
tricities.
There were no ten pounds o f solid fruit,
Nearly an hour later he cautiously open
no twenty luscious eggs, rich beef suet,
ed the door and peepe-l in.
nor was it dampened with choice brandy
"D id you rine . sir?" he asked diplomat- and home-brewed ale. But it waa prob
ically. There was no response, and h*. ably more easily digested.
E very Day.
Every day is a day o f thanksgiving for
Christians. They do n et wait until the
crops have been gathered before returning
thanks, for they are thankful for every
‘lay s blessing. Still It is a commendable
custom for a nation to officially recognize
man’s dependence, and to ask its people
to unite in a common thanksgiving.