Hcdw OCatty Made
Tlhiamfegjfldimigi
ff<q>r Heir FaUlheir
i... amid Dirndl© Willi
Although a vain, bronze turkey
rustled his gorgeous feathers In a
corral, and there was a box of cran
berries and some raisins and other
“fixings" which showed preperation
for a Thanksgiving dinner, Katy Holt
grew thoughtful every time that
Thanksgiving was mentioned. She had
a large scheme on hand that needed
tact, courage and good luck to carry
It through.
Tom Holt, her father, was a gener
ous man, hospitable, friendly and
square, but his temper was violent
and flashy. One year ago, when
Thanksgiving was drawing near, Wil
liam Holt, her father’s only brother,
had been her father’s partner in the
Red Dog gold mine. In some way a
quarrel, the first of their lives, had
arisen between the two brothers. They
did not eat their Thanksgiving din
ner together, but went angrily apart.
I
Katy.
William deeded his share In the Red
Dog to Tom, and Tom gave papers to
William for a share in the Golden
Wonder mine, on the other side of the
mountain, some miles away.
No more partners, both sad at
heart, but both too proudt o acknowl
edge that he was the least in the
wrong, they shook hands coldly and
separated civilly enough. Since then
they had not seen one another. Kat?
Holt kissed the girls at the school
good-bye, took her books in a grip
sack, turned her hack on the class
room with something of a choking
sensation, for she liked study and the
association of the young girls at the
school, and the next day her father
was surprised to see her just at night
fall come into his camp.
“Good old dad,” she said laughing
gayly and saucily, "I'll bet that we will
have a lot of fun here together. I have
been awfully lonesome away from you
and I know that you wanted to see
me all the time. I have brought my
books home and will study when I
am not housekeeper.”
Tom Holt smiled, the first time in a
month, and felt better already.
Three days before Thanksgiving a
large package was brought into camp
by Indian Jack. It was addressed to
Miss Katy Holt. She took it and
gave orders that no one was to open
It.
“What is it all about. Sis?” asked
her father.
“Something for Thanksgiving—the
best of all, and a surprise if I can keep
it so.”
Then the next day a letter came for
Katy, which she opened hurriedly and
read with beating heart. It was from
her Uncle Will. As she turned the
pages—there were many of them—a
twenty-dollar bill rustled out. On it
was pinned a slip of paper with the
words, “For Katy.”
A sudden light came into her eyes.
She called her father and told him
that she wished to ride to the town
at once and wished Indian Jack to go
with her. Consent being given, she
was soon under way, galloping over
the trails with speed.
“S»ch a pretty idea,” she said;
“and so romantic. Where did I get it?
Wouldn't the girls think it too sweet
for anything?”
Part way to the town the trail
forked. One fork went to the other
■lde of the mountain to where her
Uncle Will’s mining camp was. She
turned her horse sharply and rode in
that direction, Indian Jack following
close after.
* “Hello, Uncle Billy,” she cried, as
she reached the camp. When she was
particularly fond she always called
Uncle Will “Billy,” and he understood
and liked the nickname when she
spoke it.
She leaped from her horse, fairly
dragged Uncle Will into his cabin and
there talked with him for a long time.
He shook his head repeatedly, stamp
ed two or three times and would have
said some hard words but that Katy
each time covered his mouth with
kisses and then she hugged him and
said:
“Now, Uncle Billy, you know you
will make your little girl the sad
dest of any one in the world if you
say ‘no;’ and she will be the happiest
If you only will say 'yes.’ ’’
“Well," answered Uncle Will, “it is
the bitterest pill of my life, but I
will do it; but mind you, Katy, It is
all for you.”
“Thank you, dear; you are the best
Uncle Billy in all the world.”
“But mind, not a word to Tom.”
, “Not a word, Uncle.”
Then she went to town and there
bought two gold rings with her 20
dollar bill and inside of each she had
the words engraved, “Day of Thanks
giving.” With these rings she went
home, and on the way made Indian
Jack promise that he would not say
where they had been.
When she rang the bell for her
father to come in he stood speech
less and in surprise to see that th
table was net for three.
“How is this, Kitty?” he asked,
hastily. "Whom have you asked to
come to dinner with us?”
Katy pretended to be busy taking
something out of the mysterious
package that Indian Jack had brought
in some days earlier. Suddenly she
s-.id: “Why, here is a letter from
grandma, addressed to you, dad.
“And say, dad, Just see what grand
ma has sent to you! Don’t you know
how you used to say that, when you
were a boy, you used to go to grand
ma's pantry and find an earthen-jar
full of sugar cookies that she had
made, and how you used tQ hook
some of them to carry away to your
baby brother?”
“Hush, Katy; no more of him. He
has gone his way and I have gone
mine. No more.”
“And, say, dad,” went on Katy, now
bravely disobeying her father, “and
don’t you remember what you said
grandmother told you one time, after
you had stolen the cookies and she
found out that you did not eat them,
but gave them to your baby brother—
‘I shall look to you to care for
Billy?’ ”
“Katy,” cried her father, “I see it
all now. Was this what made you
leave the school, where you were so
happy?”
Katy nodded, breathless.
“W’ell,” said her father, “if you did
that yoM deserve a reward, but let
Billy come to me.”
Katy went to the door and called
“Uncle Biliy.”
From the creek below Uncle Billy
came toward the house. His face was
a little red, but it was not more red
than her father’s.
She slippel out of the house to let
them meet when no one was by. She
made a pretense of being busy out
side. When she came back to the
cabin she saw the two brothers sit
ting on a wooden bench, each with
an arm about the other and lovelight
in their eyes.
What , a dinner that was! There
never was such a turkey before. And
as for a housewife, Tom said there
never was one like Katy, except her
mother before her.
When the turkey had been attended
to and the other delicacies, also, Katy
said: “Why, dad, here is your letter
from grandma. Did you read it?”
"Yes, Katy; but it will stand read
ing again. Read it aloud to Billy.”
"My dear Tom and Billy,” so read
the letter. "I am happy to-day to
think how blessed you are in the love
of one another. I send you a Jar of
sugar cookies—such as mother used
to make to help out.”
“Our love for one another—that is
Just it,” said Tom. ‘“It is like a mes
sage that we both needed.
“Just the thing,” agreed Billy,
reaching out his hand.
Then there was a call for the sugar
cookies and they were produced—Jar
and all—Just like the old times; in
fact, the old Jar.
“And now,” cried Katy triumphant
ly, "here are two gold rings, exactly
alike, except for size. For my sake,
wear them always from now on in
memory of this day and of your lov
ing Katy.”
That was the crowning moment
as Katy handed over the gold rings,
and her father and Uncle Billy ac
cepted them and found that they
would fit.
“I think,” said Tom Holt to Katy
“that we can afford to send you back
to school again.”
“Yes,” said Uncle Billy, to college
too."
“Thank you dears, I would like to
learn some more.”
“But,” added Uncle Billy, "it must
be with the agreement that you must
come home to help us celebrate
Thanksgiving every year. '
“It is a go,” said Katy, in true min
er fashion, as she extenoed one hand
to her father and the other to Uncle
Billy.—David H. Walker in San Frai*
cisco Chronicle.
^thanksgiving
_ N\ \ ^ By STANLEY WATERLOO. ^
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'^Behold'- the;.c£Owning'\pf^the -year!
--The^wheat. is garnered from; the .field; -
JThe .seasons.'harvesting -isVJiere,—.__
jV.nfighty and-.abuhdant''yiel<i
p^Nor warGi o"r/pesti lenee\hasxcome; ^
*^)^l\Peace^stiir abides through© ut^ t h e|l a n dp
Gone
The fire
herds;
plain,,
The
Th -V * - M\l,
1 he bins are swollen* with !the/gra«n
r» ^ Ij / s' s- • Pr'ti tIII''''S' •
Broad pasturesvho 1 d ‘.jnem,flocks, and
They’ve borne/ their fruit, haye^fiefcT^nd r_„
Gone but, the j.sumi^ner//an/d/rtHe birds; jf/ ,
ire’s aiight|,infee^/hte^^I^
rorTali-ther^areuhei/wafmth and roofM
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sun-stnL.shinesikhdugh^gray the dome
i ,f«/^fnkr,r> s'lfairprim warp and woof^/j
XT . - r?a^Egil.’i
Not ours oppression,wiorGhe lack L
Ur wjiatgivesTmanhood unto hfe;f
Unbajred^HeT'hcacJ,;unwhippcd Vjhe-J&abk,-^
/^Unknown,the/ bondsman’_s h6peless£strife.<
, //hn/<s's&<z=>^
Blessed among'earths creatures,\;we, --•,*'
In pleasanj-fplace 'our lines are'castjztl
Should^v/e'not/know 'it. all from '\Thee,
‘■*M" ■■ ■ -■ - ' Aua;;- ~ ■*
JTJfrr,
/N/ i * ' f • • rr-« I I \-> \
AndVworship Theelunto the \last?/{),
HelD//us;/vj0‘<(Lord, when" fortune (
/jyjhen^goods and gear have n)ade us coarse.!
In 'thpughtfiilnejss, O, teach /us I that V
/AV^should remember put"the source.
Sturdy in; trust/we^cpme-today<
Nor come w'hhGaltering^and tears>^ ,yA
But in proud gratitude, and pray \T~J_"
The bounty of the future .years! ~
(Copyright 1907, by Wright A. Patterson.)
. _ v
The Secret of
Thanksgiving
By MARGARET AYER
SOLITARY and impationt
traveler paced the plat
form of a deserted sta
tion.
It was the evening of
Thanksgiving day, and
through some mischance
he had missed the early
train that was to take him
to town and to Thanks
giving dinner.
The spirit of the day
was not with him, for he had two
long hours to wait, and it was bitter
cold, and for some unaccountable rea
son the station was locked.
A flagman came to watch for a pass
ing express train. Seeing the travel
er’s plight, the flagman invited him
to come into his shack and warm
himself.
The flagman’s home was a tiny
place, fitted out with the barest nec
essities, but, in varied contrast to the
surroundings, along one side of the
wall was a rough pine bookshelf con
taining well thumbed volumes of all
that the world holds greatest in liter
ature, philosophy and science.
After a si ort conversation the trav
eler marvelled to find that the flag
man possessed a fund of knowledge
on most subjects, and of the classics
in particular, which would have put
many a college professor to blush.
“Why don’t you leave this solitary
life of hardship and come to the town,
where with your learning you will
soon be one of the great lights?”
asked the traveler, wondering at the
flagman’s lack of ambition. “Have
you no desire to better yourself?”
“No,” replied the other, "I am con
tent with my lot. I have outdoor
work, indoor quiet with the compan
ionship of my books; I make enough
to live on and I want nothing more.
I should be out of place among your
city folk. My friends are here in the
village. What more should I want?”
For hours the traveler argued with
the flagman, and his home-bound train
passed unheeded. He was. interested
in trying to save this great intellect
for the world, as he termed it, and
trying to awaken some spark of am
bition in the man, but the flagman re
fused to be disconcerted.
“Are you satisfied with your posi
tion in life—are you contented?” he
asked the traveler.
“Of course not," answered the trav
eler. “I should consider myself lack
ing in spirit if I were satisfied and
did not want to rise higher in life. I
shall never be contented until I reach
the top of the tree.”
“Then,” said the flagman, “you are
not really thankful for the blessings
that you possess, but merely look up
on them as stepping-stones to other
things. I am grateful for what little
I have and am qontent to enjoy each
day as it comes. You go out into the
world, conquer it, and find your hap
piness in the anticipation of your suc
cess. Leave me to give thanks for
what I am enjoying now, while you
go and fight for what you want and
hope to enjoy later.”
So each man went his way.
The traveler in this incident is typi
cal of the spirit of push and advance
ment which is almost universal in this
land of ours today.
A fine spirit It is, too, for it means
a chance for development for the race,
hut it also includes the spirit of dis
content.
There is about us a perfect con
tagion of dissatisfaction which is nec
essary to progress, but some of us
are running a fair risk of being
swamped in the discontent and losing
the high aims that prompted it, all
because our aims and demands can
not be gratified at once.
There are few of us who, like the
flagman, are content with our place
in life. Most of us are striving for
more blessings of one kind or another,
spiritual, mental and worldly.
Would that Thanksgiving were held
every day to remind U3 of the daily
blessings of which every one who
lives enjoys at least a few!
AT THE THANKSGIVING DINNER,
Mrs. Duck—You say it has been
nearly a year since your husband dis
appeared?
Mrs. Turk—Yes, the last we heard
of him was that he was seen at the
white house.
Thanksgiving Date.
The last Thursday in the month of
November, as a rule, is the day sel
1 apart by the president, and the govern
j ors of most states, in their supple
mental proclamations, abide by his de
cisions. In some states, however, tho
governors see fit to observe it at other
dates.
In a Boarding House.
Mrs. Hashly—Mr. Starboard, will
you dismember the turkey?
Starboard—Ask Skinner, ma'am;
he's been taking a course In wood
carving.
Proclamation.
“make a joyful noise unto tbe Cord
all ye lands, serve the lord with glad
ness, come before Ms presence with
singing. Know ye that the Cord be is
6odt It is be who batb made us, and
not we ourselves; we are bis people and
tbe sbeep of bis pasture, enter into bis
gates with thanksgiving, and into bis
courts with praise; be thankful unto
him and bless bis name. Tor tbe Cord
is good. fiis mercy is everlasting, and
bis truth enduretb to all generations.”
- p«i« ico
THE SPIRIT
AND FEAST OF
THANKSGIVING
Side by side with the "long, un
broken custom handed down to us by
our forefathers” of setting apart an
nually a special day for Thanksgiving
has also dwelt with us the idea that
we must have as nearly as practicable
the same kind of a feast as that en
joyed by the first settlers upon these
shores. From a sentimental view
point this theory is undoubtedly cor
rect, and would really work out beau
tifully were it not for certain changed
conditions affecting our supply of sea
sonable provisions. A regulation plan
of directions for getting up a proper
Thanksgiving dinner even this year
would suggest the providing of oy
sters, turkeys, chicken for chicken pie,
with vegetables, fruits, rich pastries,
and delicacies in abundance. The idea
is to arrange a composite meal which
shall comprise as nearly as may be
the various fruits and products of the
earth. And a good and praiseworthy
idea it is, too, if only everybody had
the wherewithal to purchase theso
fruits; but unfortunately this must be
an oysterless and a turkeyless Thanks
giving for many persons. The causes
contributing to this state of things
cannot be discussed here; nor does
it much matter to the man who en
ters a meat market and sees a turkey
which he longs to purchase for his
family, but which he knows he cannot
afford, just why the commodity, with
many others, is so far beyond his
means. The thing is he knows it is
beyond his means, and therefore he
will have to do without it. He must
to some extent give up the idea of try
ing to imitate that first Thanksgiving
dinner in the forest.
In some respects the preparation of
that feast, or the obtaining the arti
cles comprised in it, must have been
a comparatively simple matter. The
settlers had but to take down the
fowling piece, go into the woods, and
bring home the wild game. Well filled
oyster beds lay quite near the shore.
The harvest was fruitful; grain, wild
fruits, such vegetables as they knew
how to raise were abundant; nuts of
various kinds were plentiful—what,
then, was to hinder the making ready
a feast that should fitly supplement
the public Thanksgiving rendered unto
the Lord? There is the point. The
feast is but the outward sign or token
of that which underlies the whole
Thanksgiving idea. It is the feeling
in the heart, the sentiment of grati
tude for good received, that, after all,
constitutes the real Thanksgiving.
With this feeling present the absence
of the turkey, even though he is every
where acknowledged to be the king
of the feast, need not be counted a
misfortune.
We are too apt to forget just how
things were with the settlers. We
take the idea of that great historical
feast Into our minds, and -we overlook
the dark shadows that must have been
in that first Thanksgiving picture. It
would be a good thing if we would try
to remember the "little graveyard by
the water's edge,” and make an effort
to recall what the record says, that
not one household in the New Massa
chusetts colony but had recently been
visited by death or severe and pro
tracted illness. But still the prepara
tions for the feast went on, and at a
convenient time they ‘‘solemnized a
day of thanksgiving unto the Lord."
Surely we can learn a lesson from
the simple faith of these pious souls.
We are not called upon to-day to suf
fer the privations which were the lot
of our forefathers, but any year may
bring changed conditions which may
necessitate more or less self-denial on
our part. If the man who finds him
self unable to buy material for an
expensive dinner knows that his fam
ily circle is complete and unbroken,
and everybody in health and fully able
to enjoy the dinner when it is pre
pared, he surely has good and suffi
cient cause for thankfulness.
AFTER THANKSGIVING.
How Johnny Green Dreamed He
Looked.
The waning year grows brown and Kra*
and dull. srajr
And poets sing November bleak =
sere; *ncs
But from the bounteous garnered harve.t
store, vesi
With grateful hearts we draw Thank,
giving cheer.
Occasionally, these days, we get a
glimpse of real old fashioned hospi
tality, the kind that creeps right into
the marrow of your bones and makes
your blood tingle with the true snirit
of good fellowship.
Never is this feeling more universal
ly or potently expressed than on
Thanksgiving; the occasion for fes.
tive home gatherings, reunions, and
where strangers are made welcome
as one of your own kin.
Lucky and blessed is the woman
who can extend hospitality on this
day, and lucky, too, is the host who
can preside at his own board, among
congenial spirits.
It is a very serious mistake to keep
your guests at the table for three or
four hours, as is frequently the case;
though, to be sure, part of this time
Is taken up at the conclusion of the
dinner, as the men linger over their
coffee and cigars, and with the inevit
able flow of gossip throughout the
meal.
The foundation of the dinner con
sists of an appetizer, soup with relish
es, turkey with vegetables, a salad, a
dessert of pies—pumpkin, mince and
apple—to which may be added an Ice
and a steamed pudding if desired,
nuts, raisins and coffee.
Three indispensable pies are pump
kin well seasoned with brandy, mince
and apple with cheese. Steaming hot
Indian pudding or plum pudding with
a stiff sauce Is equally appropriate.
An Ice is sometimes served, such as
lemon or orange. Coffee demi tasse
follows, together with assorted nuts,
raisins, dates, figs and bonbons. For
a formal dinner Brie cheese and hard
toasted crackers accompany the black
coffee.
An unique name card is given in
this article.
In place of the pumpkin pie. pump
kin fachonettes, pastry shells with
pumpkin filling, make a novel substi
tute. And a chestnut compote is equal
ly pleasing and out of the beaten
track. An excellent Thanksgiving
cake, which may be served with tea,
is made of spices, a cup of strong,
black coffee, chopped raisins, nuts and
melted marshmallows, covered with
icing (vanilla colored with rose water
or orange) and halved pecans or pig
nolia nuts.
KING OF THANKSGIVING.
The King of Thanksgiving!
Behold him in glory!
He tells to beholders
A wonderful story.
He tells how our fathers,
A brave little band,
Bowed down in thanksgiving
On reaching the land;
How from that time to this
We hold one day a year
Apart from Its fellows,
A day of good cheer.
Cheap Thanksgiving Olnner.
Yvette Guilbert, the famous * reiK
actress praised at a dinner in ‘
York the festival of Th^nk®fc ,d‘
“It is a pleasant festival,” she •
“I am sorry that in France "0 ,
no such day of gratitude for the 7
harvest. It is a great day with y
You have hovels, tales, auecdo e
poems based upon it.
“An actor this morning toh ^
Thanksgiving anecdote. He said #
a penniless young man enter , -
cheap restaurant one Than sg
day, and said: ,
“ ‘What do you charge for a v
of turkey?’ ,
“ ‘A quarter, sir/ the waiter
“ ‘Any charge for bread’
“‘No. sir.’
‘“Or for gravy?"
“ ‘No-’ of
“ ‘Then bring me a i1 *
bread and gravy."'