Image provided by: Yamhill County Historical Society; McMinnville, OR
About The Yamhill County reporter. (McMinnville, Or.) 1886-1904 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 24, 1899)
train—it will take as much as ?8. I sup
pose, both ways, though all of you might
go on half-fare: and then there is the
Vh. dearest, wbat a joy to build
trip in the wagon afterwards. It's a
Our palace« so fair;
great pity to give it up, but I think we'll
No dreams like dreams of opulence.
Dispel the hours of care.
"Mother,” said Will, “suppose you
When Shakspeare wrote those living were to find enough money for the trip;
suppose somebody that you never ex
pected to pay us should pay.”
“Who steals my purse steals trash,”
And then iu a flash Will hud the money
II- recked not of the things we'll do
out, and there was another shout, louder
When we obtain the cash.
than when the letter came; und what
did Mrs. Darlington do but cry, and then
No vain and idle fancy ours,
laugh as merrily as the children did. For
To while away the time;
it really did begin to look like Thanksgiv
But land and sea shall then unfold
Their mysteries sublime.
That night she wrote a letter thanking
Mr. and Mrs. Fenner, saying that they
How we will girt this glorious earth,
would all be there on the morning of
And bask 'lieatb foreign skies;
What mountain fastnesses we'll sweep
The day came at last, and they got off
With our enraptured eyes.
but it was raining, and they wondered
why it should rain just as they were go
The scene« in song and story told
ing to have Thanksgiving. At Howard
By favored tiCvelers,
they got out of the cars and ri^Tinto the
Wili find in us the praise of true
station; and then they looked'out of the
And ardent worshipers.
windows and saw little rivers running
We’ll read the riddle of the Sphinx,
down all the streets of the town.
And scale the pyramids;
“I’m afraid it isn't going to clear,”
said Mrs. Darlington to the children.
Seek out old King’s sarcophagi
"We'll try to find a covered wagon and
And peep beneath the lids.
then we can go on, in spite of the rain.”
No spot in all this wide, wide world,
A small boy, who was lounging about
Of forest, glade or glen,
the station, was sent in search of a wag
Shall deck itself nnd wooers mourn.
on, and presently returned with one.
When we get rich—yes—when?
“Of course I knows where old man
Fenner lives,” said the driver. “I'll take
you out there fur $3, that is of ye can
get there, but it'd be mjr advice to stay-
in town till it quits rainin'.”
Í AN UNEXPECTED
“Oh, we must go on," cried Mrs. Dar
lington. So the wagon was driven up
under the shelter of the projecting roof
and they climbed in.
“He says we'll be there by half-past
10,” whispered Frank. "I'll bet the tur
key’s cookin' now; and maybe there’ll
HE children danced all around the be nuts—and raisins—and buttermilk.”
The wheels went splashing through
room, even Lois, the blonde little
the mud, and as they went farther along
“We’ll have one Thanksgiving, any the road it seemed to Mrs. Darlington
how." cried Will, the curly haired boy; that the difficulties increased.
and me other boy, whose hair did not were more streams and they were deeper
curl, laughed louder than any of them. and angrier.
“Gittin’ pretty bad, ain't it?” said the
“Won't it be fun to have a Thanksgiv
ing?” he asked when he could get his
Mrs. Darlington folded the letter and
shook her head.
“Don’t depend on it, Will,” she said.
“It will take money, you know, and how
are we to get it?”
“Oh, I guess the money will turn up
somehow,” Will answered as confidently
as though they could pick up money in
the streets if they should happen to want
It was a letter that had created all that
commotion; the most unexpected letter
that ever was, too. It had come from a
farm house, and the writer was an old
farmer, who wrote with the greatest
labor, for he had never gone to school in
his life. Ilis old wife had been sitting
beside him as he wrote, and when he “t’M A LONELY OLD MAN,” SAID THE OLD
finished this is what he read to her:
WHEN WE GET RICH.
U E may not he
versed in history,
theology and that,
She has never pui-1
attention to a B
sharp or A flat ;
I know It's very ■ < r
tain ihat the plan
ets In the skies
Have not bothered
with her skill In
She has never wor
ried ever over
The mysteries of cy-
cling she lias bad «trengih to refuse;
She would cut a sorry figure lu the social
But ahe Io ms a perfect paragon concocting
Her mind has never waded through the lit
erature of gush.
Her cheeks have never crimsoned other than
with nature’s blush.
Ebe isn't versed iu subtle ways and fashion
But She’s queen of a l creation when she
builds pumpkin pies.
Ebe has not app’led for membership In any
She has never murmured politics to make
all nature sad—
But she’s mighty intellectual In wrestling
with the ties
Surrounding the arranging of Thanksgiving
I come out better with em
I expected,” said Phoebe
across the barnyard fence to
>er neighbor, Mr». Tripp, who Mid:
•They’s as fine a lot o' turkeys as I ever
see, Miss Podd, and you'd great luck to
do so well with 'em. Turkeys are dread
ful hard things to raise. Don't you think
“Yes, they be; an’ I do'no as 1 shall
•ver try it »gain. They need so much
«oddliu* when they’re little things an’
they eat so much I doubt if it pays to
bother with ’em. But I thought I’d try
It once just to see how I come out, an' I
didn’t lose a single one. One of ’em had
the pips, too; but I coddled it through all
“You’ll sell some of ’em at Thanksgiv
ing time, I s’pose?”
"Oh, yes; I callste on selling all but
tlint young gobbler, an' I'm goin’.to eat
him. I'm short of grain and it won t pay
me to buy feed for a lot of turkeys.
They'd eat their heads off in six weeks.”
“Yes, I s’pose so. Who you goiu’ to
have for compliy Thunksgivin’i”
“I ain't "Quite sure yet; but I guess it
won't be hard to git someone to come lu
• n' help eat a plump, juicy young gob
bler like that.”
"No, Indeed. We’re nil goin' over to
Hebron to ent dinner with my husband’s
sister. They're goin' to have a big fam’-
lv reunion there, an' sister counts on hav
in' over forty to dinner."
“It must be nice to have that many
• wn folks,” said Miss l’hoebe, with a
•igh. "Here 1 ain't got any kin at all.”
"There's your cousiu Thyrxa,” said
”1 don't count her ns kin," said Phoe
be I’odd coldly, and she manifested her
resentment of Mrs. Tripp's suggestion by
turning about abruptly mid walking into
the house, while Mrs. Tripp walked down
the country road toward her owu home,
anying to herself: "If ever there was a
•et piece l’hoebe Podd is one. 1 here's
nobody on earth she'd ought to have and
•he'd like to have help her to eat that
young gobbler as Thyrxa Deane and her
boys, but she'd die, l’hoebe Podd would,
before she'd own up to it.”
Miss Podd lived on a profitable little
farm left to her by her parent», who bad
also left her cash ami stock enough to
make her one of the “best off" women In
lived alone, with
Miss Podd and her cousin Thyna bad
been more like sisters than cousins in
their intimacy until a trilling disagree
ment had resulted in their complete es
trangement, and it had bren five years
•Ince they had spoken to each other.
Mrs. Deane had become a widow dur
ing these five years, and she had been re
duct'd from a state of ease and plenty to
•tie of hardship mid poverty. But these
facts had apparently made no difference
with Phoebe Podd, for she continued to
■tterly ignore the existence of her cousin.
“I'd like to see myself asking Thyraa
Deane and her young oues to come and
help me eat that turkey!" said Miss Podd
spitefully a» she went into her spotless
kitchen and banged the door behind her.
“I've a good mind never to speak to
ftsrah Tripp again for mentioning the
name of Thyraa Deane to me!"
Three days before Thanksgiving Miss
Podd engaged the service» of Jane Gray,
a woman who “worked out” in the neigh
borhood. and the two women dressed the
entire flock of turkeys for market after
Job. the hired man, bad doue duty as a
The plump young gobbler
•pared, but his eud was to
"Although it'd be » mercy to kill him
bow ,” said Miss Podd to Jane Gray,
“he'll feel so lonely without his mate».
1'11 have Job kill ’Im early Thauksglvlng
morning and put ’Im in the ice bonne to
eord off 'fore I roast 'im. au* I don't think
I'll have any one hero this Thanksgivin’.
1 ain't Reelin' right well an' I don't feel
able to fuas 'round gettin' up a big din
ner. I don't seem to have any interest
la Thanksgiving this gear."
But her interest was aroused when Job
came in on Thanksgiving morning, and
informed Miss Podd that the young gob
bler was not to be found.
“I've looked high and low for 'Im,
ma'am; an’ he'ain't to be found nowheres.
I’ve my s'picions where he went.”
“You have? Well, why don’t you com«
out an' say what you think?" asked Miss
“I think he was stolen, ma’am.”
“It looks like it," said Miss Podd.
“An’ I've my s'picions who stole ’im.”
“Well, I met that oldest boy of the
Widow Deane's in the woods near your
barn last evening just at dusk an’ be had
a white an' black turkey gobbler slung
over bls shoulders, lie made off mighty
fast when he saw me. I never thought
anything about it until I come to Loot up
your turkey this •morning, and couldn't
"And you ain’t seen my turkey »Ince
you saw Joe Deane with a gobbler like
mine on his back?"
“No, ma’am. The last I saw of your
turkey was about 4 o’clock yesterday af
ternoon when I see ’im goin’ out toward
the timber back o’ the barn. It's my
opinion that the Deane boy swiped that
Miss Podd was In just the right mood
to be easily led to this same conclusion,
and her wrath knew no bounds when she
had finally decided that Job was correct
in his surmise.
“Yes,” she said finally, “that boy nab
bed my turkey, an’ be probably did it out
of pure spite. But then he had a great
uncle on the Deane side who was once
arrested for stealin’ an’ the failin’ has
prob’ly cropped out in Thyrza's children.
But she’ll wish she'd raised ’em better
’fore night. I ain't crossed her doorstep
for most six years, but I’ll cross it to
day an' tell her to her face what I think
of this performance. I'll tell her some
thing that'll make that turkey taste
mighty bitter iu her mouth, now see if I
It was n raw, cold and sunless day.
Miss I’odd’s anger had made he» forget
that ihe was not feeling well, and soon
nfter noon she set forth from her owu
snug and pretty home to visit tlie far
from attractive nnd comfortable home in
which her cousin lived.
There had no money for repairs of
any kind on the Deane place and Miss
Podd relented a very little bit as she
noted the forlorn aspect of the place. But
she was determined to carry through
what she had undertaken. It was unlike
the I’odds to swerve from any fixed res
olution, and Miss l’odil's face wore a
hard, grim, resolute look as she knocked
at tlu1 Deane's back door.
“I'll face 'em when they're In the very
act of eiitin' my turkey,” she had said to
Job. "I'll make that turkey change from
sweet to bitter in their mouths!"
Someone called out “Come in,” nnd
M iss Podd entered the Deane kitehen
just as Mrs. Deane and her live children
had seated themselves nt a table on
which there was no sign of a turkey or of
a Thanksgiving feast of any kind. A
plate of corned beef and a dish of boiled
potatoes were the chief dishes on the ta
ble. Mrs. Deane's surprise when she saw
who her caller was was manifest iu her
"Why Cousin Phoebe!” she said.
Miss Podd's sharp eyes took hi nt a
glance the poorly spread table and the
nir of poverty the interior of the house
presented, nnd her first words were:
"Well, Thyrxa Deane, is this the best
a turkey on his back, an’ I was mean
enough to make myself think it was my
turkey, an' here you are eutin’ a Thanks-
givin' dinner of corned beef an' potatoes,
an’ more thankful fog it. I’ll be bound,
than I am for all the good things I've got
in my cellar an' pantry! I'm so asham-.d
“But this is what you've got to do,
Thyrza; you an’ the children must go
right home with me an' keep Thanksgiv
ing I’ll kill a pair o' chickens an’ we’ll
make a big potpie like we had the last
time you et your Thanksgivin’ dinner
with me. I’ve piles of pie an’ cookies an’
doughnuts an' a big pound cake all baked
up! You’ve got to go, Thyrza, for the
sake of old times! Come on uu’ welcome
to you all!”
There was no opposing Miss Podd and
in fifteen minutes they were all on their
way to her bouse, the two cousins walk
ing arm in arm.
When they reached Miss Podd’s house
Job met them with a grin on his face.
‘That young gobbler's a good one,” said
Job. “I reckon he thought he’d be smart
enough to save his neck. I found him
just now in the shed room. The winder
was up an’ I reckon lie flew iu there lust
night an’ he found it so comfortable he
concluded to stay right there, ’speshly as
there was a bag of corn there.”
"Well, you get his head right off nn’
put him In the ice house to cool off,” said
Miss Podd. “Our dinner'll be late, Thyr
za, but I’ll set out a good lunch to kind
o’ stay our stummicks an’ then you an' I
will pitch In an' git up one o’ the reg'lar
Thanksgivin’ dinners like we used to git
up ’fore we was geese enough to fall out.
But we’ve fell in again, as it were, an’
it won’t be my fault if w-e don’t stay
friends the rest of our days.”—Detroit
Joke of Two Mean Boys.
Dear Miss Darlington—I liav Jus foun out
that you are tile gurl my little Minnie uste
to love so when you was at school togather;
an 1 foun out whalr you lived. Mother an
me wants you an your family to come out
an spen Thanksgivin with us. an as much
longer as you can. You take the Valley
Raleroad an git off at Howard, an then you
can come aerost lu a waggin.
knows the road.
A Thanksgiving in the country! No
wonder the children danced and laughed
and shouted. "But it isn't much use
They tacked up a sign on Farmer Fur thinking about it.” said the mother to
row's fence. All Darktown rejoiced.
Will that night, after the others had gone
to lied. "Try to make Frank and Lois
forget it, Will, for there isn't money
enough. We need so many things that
we wouldn't dare spend money on a
pleasure excursion, would we?”
Will was silent, but the tears went up
The rejoicing was turned to mourning,
and Darktownites wondered why the
farmer was so hostile.
Driving Turkovs to Dawson.
When the steamship Elder tied up at
Juneau from Portland she had aboard
1.000 dozen of frozen eggs and some dead
and some live turkeys, which their owner
expects to rush through to Dawson in
time for Thanksgiving. The live turkeys,
he says, he intended to drive in over the
Chilkoot pass and Dawson trail. When
old Dave Thompson, a pros[»eetor of
three seasons’ experience in Yukou coun
try, who came out of Dawson up the riv
er, heard about this, he began to laugh.
Half an hour later Mr. Thompson was
still laughing, black in the face, pounding
a table, and saying to himself:
"Gee whiz, but this beats me.”
He says that the cold in the interior is
so intense in November that it burns the
skin off the face, and that the turkeys
will be frozen on the walk.—San Fran
Custom's Probable Suggestion.
The antiquarian will tell us that
Thanksgiving day was suggested by th« I
Hebrew "Feast of the Tabernacles" or
"Feast of Ingathering" at the end of th«
year. Occasional thanksgiving was not
unusual in Europe, and such a day was
observed in Leyden, Holland, Oct. 3,
1575, the first anniversary of the deliver
ance of that city from siege. The pil
•’ it ' d I1K A MERCY TO KILL HIM.”
grim fathers, however, are unquestion
ably to be credited with Inaugurating the
Thanksgiving dinner you're able to day in America and it has become pure
ly an American observance equally rec
“Ye», It Is. Phoebe,” said Mr». Donne ognised with Christmas and New Year.
with a blush, "it'» so poor, l’hoebe, that As we gather at the well-filled boards I
I’m ashamed to ask you to share It.”
let us cast a passing thought on those j
“Where's the turkey Joe brought home earnest men and women In the peaked
last night?" asked Phoebe.
hats and quaint hoods who have taught
"We sold it. It was one he earned us to give thanks for the blessings of life.
huskin' corn all day for Andy Tetlow,
and we were too poor to keep it for our
There'll He No Parting There.
selves. so I dressed It and Joe took It to
town after dark last night and exchanged
it for things we needed more than we
needed the turkey.”
There was silence in the room for a mo
ment and then Miss Podd burst out im
“1 ain't fit to live! No, I ain’t! I'm
too miserably mean au' narrow contract
ed to be respectable even! I’m—"
“Why. Cousin Phoebe. I----- ”
"You jest keep still. Thyraa. an' hear
me out! Y'ou know what I coni« here
for? Hey? No, you don’t, an' you ain't
mean-minded enough to guess! 1 come
here to accuse your boy Joe of stealiu' a
turkey from me! I----- ”
“Why. Phoebe----- "
“You keep still, Thyraa. an' hear me
Flr»t Turkey Gobbler—I hear your son
out. an' then order me out if you feel had a terrible experienc« on Thanksgiv- !
like It. A young gobbler I bad was mis» ing day.
in' thia mornin' an* Job, my hired man.
Second Turkey Gobbler—Yes; he was
•aw jour Jo« goiu' horn« Las' night with all ciM up bj 1A.
“PLEASE, SIR, COULD TOU T.ET ME HAVE
THE MONEY YOU OWE MOTHER?”
into his eyes with a rush. He went to
bed after awhile, when his mother was
through with her work, and while he lay-
awake, thinking over this magnificent op
portunity to have a pleasant Thanksgiv
ing. he suddenly remembered Mr. Mayer.
Now Will very often thought of Mr.
Mayer. This was the man that had nev
er paid his mother for some work that
she had done for him, months before,
lie had found fault with it, and had tried
to put her off with half-price. Will had
a vivid recollection of the many visits he
had made to the store to get the money,
and had hoped that his mother never
would send him again; but as he lay
awake tlie thought of Mr. Mayer came
up again; nnd lie could not get rid of it.
Next morning Mrs. Darlington was sur
prised to find that Will had an errand,
after breakfast, and that he did not like
to tell what it was.
"Mr. Mayer? He's in his office," said
the clerk to whom Will appealed, and
who went on with his writing, forgetting
to add that a gentleman was with Mr.
Mayer and he did not wish to be dis
torted. Will opened the door of the ’lit
tle oflii-e and slipped in: and before Mr.
Mayer had an opportunity to look around
the lad was standing by his side.
"Well,” said Mr. Mayer impatiently,
not recognizing the boy; and Will step
"Please, sir." he said, in a little gen
tlemanly way: “could you let me have
th«' money you owe mother for the «ew
ing. if it’s convenient? We need it very
The gentleman visitor smiled, and Mr.
Mayer, looking annoyed, opened the door
and called to the cashier:
“Give this boy $17» for me, and take a
It was done. The money was button-
cd up in Will's jacket, and away he went
homeward, scarcely touching the pave
ment as he ran. But at the head of the
stair« be slackened his pace, and went in
• ml sat down quietly.
"Mother." he Mid. “how much would
It take to pny our way there and back?”
"Oh. I don't know," she said sorrow
fully. "a great -leal more than we can
afford. Will. There's the trip on the
we couldn’t get there. So I thought ’we d
just buy a turkey, and have
ing right there iu that house Wdl >ou.
please sell a 29-ceut turkey?
held out his hand with 29 copper cent»
How that old man looked at the b?
and pulled out a redbandana
chief and rubbed his nose with it until it.
"Whose money is that?” he a?ked. so;
suddenly that he almost made Will;
j l"D’s all mine, sir. I’ve been saving,
it for a long time, but I thought I d buy,
a turkey with it now, and surprise moth-,
er with it, and the children.”
"The children! He talks about the
children!” murmured the old niau to him
self. “Bless us and save us'.’
And then all at once he said:
"You go along back down to the house,
and don’t you breathe a word about the
turkey. I'll send it down, after awhile—
a 29-cent turkey. No, you needn’t pay
me till you get the turkey. Go on—
they’re hard to catch, you know, but 1 II
see that we catch one. Hurry, now, or
you’ll get wet. And you want it for
the children, eh?—bless my life!
Will hurried back, wondering what the
old man meant by all that, and half in
clined to believe that he would never
hear about the turkey again. However,
he was a hopeful little fellow, and he ran
into the house, built up the fire again and
set the children to playing, so that they
were in great glee in no time. As for
the mother, she was becoming reconciled
to the condition of things, too, even
though they were bedless, dinnerless and
a long way from home; aud that on
After awhile, in the very midst of the
play, the door was pushed open, and
there stood the old gentleman with a
huge basket, and behind him was his ser
vant with another huge basket, and be
hind them was a wagon, with a table
aud some chairs and more baskets in it.
"I’m a lonely old man,” said the old
gentleman, with his hat in his hand;
"and I was about to eat my Thanksgiv
ing dinner by myself. But I thought bet
ter of it; I thought that perhaps you
would allow me to bring it down here
and eat it with you.”
Then Mrs. Darlington broke down and
could not say a word; and the servant
went to work and made a very presenta
ble dining room of the old cabin. Such
things as were put on that table! The
turkey itself was a marvel. And there
were fruits and home-made bread, and
golden butter and milk and cake—the
like of it had never been seen anywhere.
Then they sat down and ate, and it was
perfectly marvelous what an appetite
those children had. As for the old man,
there never was such a jolly old man
since the world began.
And after the dinner was over and
while they were right in the midst of ia
game of blind man’s buff, the heard a
shout, and when they looked out they
saw that the stream had run down, and
that Mr. Fenner’s wagon was just ford
ing it; and he was culling to the servant
to know whether he had seen anything of
a lady and a crowd of children—and just
then he saw- them.
Well, but there was rejoicing then;
nnd Mr. Fenner could hardly shake
hands with them for staring at his gruff-
and-grim old neighbor wearing a blind
fold and playing with the children.
"I don’t often come out of my shell,”
said the old gentleman; “but I’ve come
out to-day, and it’s done me good.”
“Stay out, now that you've come out.”
said Mr. Fenner. “There’s a fine Thanks
giving hasn't been touched yet. at my
house. GeF in the wagon with the rest
of us, and let’s go home and see after
And, would you believe it, the old gen
tleman actually climbed into the wagon
and they went over to Mr. Fenner's, and
had another Thanksgiving that very
evening; with such good things on the
tal^e as you never dreamed of unless you
have lived in the country, and the
Thanksgiving lasted over the next morn
ing. and perhaps for a day or two longer.
And the best of it was that it stayed;
for Mr. and Mrs. Fenner could not bear
to give Mrs. Darlington tip, and they
fell in love with the children; and the re
sult of it was that the Darlingtons were
established in a little cottage, close at
hand, and that Mrs. Darlington was giv
en charge of the dairy and other things.
They are now the hippiest people to be
found anywhere, with the old gentleman
coming over every few days to play with
the children, and with the hard times all
driver with a grin. “But that ain’t the
worst of it. It's my opinion we won’t git
to old man Fenner’s to-day.”
Mrs. Darlington's heart grew faint
within her. She had so little money that
she could not afford to spend any of it
The driver was right, for nfter awhile
they reached a stream that was away out
of its banks, and that roared and boiled
in the most threatening way. It was use
less to think of going farther.
"Well, which'll you do?” said the
driver, idly flicking his whip. “Shall I
take ye back to town to stay all night, or
shall I see the old man that owns this
place an’ git permission for you to camp
in that cabin there till the creek runs
No, they would not go back; so the
driver went up to the farm house and
soon came back with word that they
were welcome to the use of the cabin.
Five minutes afterwards they stood in
the cabin door and watched the wagon
out of sight around the bend; for the
driver had declined to wait. He had
done his part, he said; it was not his
fault that the streams could not be
"What shall we do?” exclaimed the
mother, sinking down upon an old bench
"What an end to al! our prospects or
pleasure! What a Thanksgiving!” And
the children began to cry.
"You just wait till I build a fire,” Will
called out cheerily; and in a little while
he had a roaring fire started in the wide
fireplace. Some dry boards and sticks
of wood that lie found under the house
A Boy’s Dew y Souvenir.
furnished sufficient fuel, and they all
drew near to the pleasant blaze.
Souvenirs of Dewey are to be had on
Then, while they were busy getting every hand, if not for the mere asking,
warm. Will surreptitiously counted the at least for the paying. But they are
small store of coins in his pocket; little cold-hearted souvenirs that have no in
saving hoarded through many weeks, and timate connection with the life of the
now brought from home to speud on this
great Admiral. If one might get as a
"Mother," he said suddenly, “will you memento something that had been his
lend me your umbrella a little while. own, that would be a different matter.
I'm not going far.” The mother asked A certain small boy has a keen appre
ciation of that fact. He feels that he
The gruff old farmer was sitting be has been more highly favored than the
side his own fire, when there came a average mortal, for has he not even
gentle knock nt the door; and in response penetrated the sacred precincts of the
to his surly “Come in.” the door opened. Olympia, and met the hero of Manila
A curly haired lad was there, lowering
a dripping umbrella, which he was care face to face? He was taken a I ma rd
ship by bis father. After his return
ful to leave outside.
“If you please, sir,” he said. “I belong home the family observed that the lit
tle fellow was going about carrying his
hand carefully bound up In a Hand
kerchief. "Have you hurt your hand?”
"Hurt my hand? No!” In disgust.
Then in great dignity, "That Is the hand
that Dewey shook.”—New York Even-
Trees of Enormous bize.
ON THE WAY TO MR. FENNER'S.
to the family that you loaned the house
to, down by the road; and we’re very
much obliged to you."
"Humph!" ejaculated the old man.
“First one that ever thought to say so,
ami I've loaned the house a good many
"Aud if you please, »ir,” went on the
little man in the door. “I came to see if
you could sell me a turkey for Thanks
"My gracious!" exclaimed the old man
with bis eye« wide open.
"Yes, sir. You see. we were going to
Mr. Fenner'» to spend Thanksgiving, and
it would hare been the first Thanksgiv
ing we’ve ever had; aud it rained so that
The largest tree in the world is to be
seen at Mascali, near the foot of Mount
Etna, and Is called "the chestnut tree
of a hundred horses.” Its name rose
from the report that Queen Jane of Ara
gon. with her principal nobility, took
refuge from a violent storm under Its
branches. The trunk Is 2<M feet in cir
cumference. The largest tree In the
Vnlted States, it Is said, stands near
Bear Creek, on the north fork of the
Tule River, in California. H measures
14<> feet In circumference. *The giant
redwood tree In Nevada Is 110 feet in
What the “Funny Bone" Beatty la.
That which is popularly known as
the "funny bone,” just at the point of
the elbow Is, m reality, not a bone at
all. but a nerve that lies near the sur
face, and which, on getting a knock or
blow, causes the well-known tingling
sensation in the arms and fingers.