, 1862-11-27
THANKSGIVING Incident,

glorious Thanksgiving morning, in short, as we
| all remember in the dial platesof our lves-once
connected with sunshine, and sweet, half forgot.
ten memories Of the lost days Of childhood.
Mrs. Harrington did not think Of these things,
however, when the merry wind ratified the plate
glass windows Of her stately mansion-she was
pondering on the probable success Of her dinner.
party Of that day, an affair aborously gotten up
for the benefit Of few aristocrat acquaintances
whose approval Mrs. Harrington would doubtless
have preferred to that Of the Angel Gabriel him
self For she was one Of those ladies' who hang
on to the outskirts Of the beau monde, and live
through an infnitude Of snubbings and well-bred
insults for the pleasure Of cor rting a few Mrs.
Potiphars in their gilt-bound visiting lists.
=" II Mrs Willoughby St. James only comes
and Mrs Silvingham," pondered she, lit will be
a success But, good graciousi what an expense
Il will involve The wine bills actually make
me tremblei We can't live on credit much lon
ger, and yet Il is necessary, to obtain rich hus-
band for Georginap
And the weary frown settled down on Mrs.
Harrington's brow again. Nobody can tell the
slow agony Of keeping up appearances on foun.
dation Of nothing but those who have experienced
iti
Miss Georgins, sitting opposite in an amber
silk morning robe glanced up from her novel At
her mammals sigh.
"What's the matter 2"
"Nothing, only wish this party was over,
and the bills all paid. II will be very .exclu.
sive affair, however, that's one comfort"
"Not like the old-hshoned country Thanks
giving" remarked the young lady, slightly curl
ing her lip. al met Mary Arnott yesterday
that unacceptable cousin Of mamma's-and
she told me in that innocent way Of hers that she
wa going to market to see if she could find O
cheap little turkey--her mother intended to have
quiet, old-tiine Thanksgiving dinnerp
"How vulgar" said Mrs. Harrington, giving
the tassels Of her cashmere morning dress toss
more expressive than any words People who
live in half house and dress in cheap delaines-
how can they expect us to recognize them as cou-
sinsi"
"Dear me-" said Miss Georgina, who was not
deficient In pertness I" I thought you and Mrs.
Arnott were brought up together, before she
mArFieda poor book-zeepeF, and You q lawyene
Mrs. Harrington was q little confused, but she
contrived to evade the unpalatable subject. '-+
Goodness, Georgina, who can that be coming
up the stairs with such heavy stepi Not one
Of those horrid tradespeOple after money, hope"
The door few open as she spoke, and an hon.
est old countryman, brown and sunburnt, and at
tired in an antique butternut suit stalked into
the room with the tread Of an elephant.
"How d'ye do, Cousin BeckyH Haven't for
got old Jabez Higgins, have youi Many's the
time you've come over to our house to get milk
for your mother when we lived up in VArmontf"
Mrs. Harrington stood aghast at this unex-
pected apparition Of q country cousin who she
had long ago supposed dead, or married, or some
thing Meanwhile honest Jabez stared round at
the gilded gimcracks and satin draperies with |
wide open eyes.
Sorry to see you looking so pale and wiZzened |
up, Cousin Becky. City air don't agree with |
you, calculatef And how's Nehemiah"
Now if there was anything on earth Mrs. n |
Howard Harrington detested, it was hearing her |
husband named by his baptismal appellation. II |
fairly rallied her scattered faculties, and enabled
her to calculate with some asperity,-
al really did not expect" !
"Of course not" put in Jabcz, good-humor.
edly. "Didnt expect to come to York myself
until yesterday mornin'p
"But what could have induced you"
"Come to spend Thanksgivin' with you and |
Nemiah," !" interrupted Jabez with beaming eyes |
To spend Thanksgiving Mrs Harrington &C. |
tually grew faint at the idea Of presenting cousin |
Jabez Higgins, whose residence she bad studi- |
ously ignored for the last twenty years, to Mrs |
Willoughby St. James, or the Honorable Al |
phonso Silvingham.
am sorry, sir" she said, ficrcely drawing |
herself up, that am compelled to decline the |
honor you intend me. We are really unable to |
accommodate you, and you must be. aware that |
the slight relationship existing between US"
She need not have gone beyond the first SEN
tence-a word was sufficient for Jabez. The |
crimson torrent Of honest pride rushed into his |
sunburnt cheeks, and the good old man simply |
uttered, al wouldn't ha' thought il Of you,
Becky" and then he retreated from the presence |
Of the cod woman If the world.
There was something very like o tear in the |
old cOuntryman's eye as he vent slowly down |
the street ineditating on his late reception.
"Nobody could have made me believe Il, that |
Becky Jones could be so changed. Guess she's |
forgot how many times he" folks borrowed money |
Of my old father. Well, it's kind O. hard for a |
lonesome old feller that hain't got chick nor child
to be treated so by his relations-and on Thanks
giving Day, too But I'll go and see Ellen: |
may Be she'll behave far different toward me- |
Somehow, can't 60 back to my lonely home |
without one kind word"
The bright little wood fire was blazing and |
cracking on the hearth in Mrs. Arnott's humble |
dwelling, and the shining table-coth was already |
placed for the festival dinner, at an hour when /
Mrs. Harrington bad just languished through her |
breakfast It was sunny little home, with lis |
bright window.glasS, and few plants in the |
sunshine, and the canary.bird twittcring among |
the Turkey.red curtains, and Mrs. Arnott sitting |
in the rocking.chair by the fire. looking every |
inch the lady, even though she wore a shilling |
delaine with collar Of plain unadOrned linen. |
As for Mary, standing by the window just where
the moonlight quivered like a golden diadem
around her lovely chestnut hair--nO words can |
describe her soft bloom or the dewy luSter Of
her blue eyes, One might almost forgive the
mother for :he wish that Ruttered across her
heart At that instant that they were little richer,
50 that MArY's beauty might sparkle in proper /
setting
There was knock at the door, and Mrs. Ar
mott rose to open It.
why, Cousin Jabez, who could have imagined