The Lancaster gazette. [volume] (Lancaster, Ohio) 1863-1886, 1863-11-26

when in some fair valley Of the West,
we find a group Of Fortunes exiles,
who have brought with them, out of
the East, the dear old year of child
hood ; the scripture measure year,
pressed down and running over with
its three hundred and siXty-nine days;
who remember greeting they learn
cd to lisp, when the sun went down in
their fathers woods; who have forgot
ten the faint 'hurrah' they raised,
when all along the morning, streamed
the stripes and stars we think that
those who are faithful to Yesterday,
will ever be true to To-day.
We are not about to weary you with
historic lore, but whatever the origin
of that good day that next shall dawn,
, it might have been born as the lily is
out OF the clear and sunny bosom of
the water, or it might have been born
as the star is out of the shadow Of
deep night.
When the second winter came upon
those New England Pilgrims, unawares
by night, and the sower went forth to
SOW while they were sleeping, and the
morning was white with winnowed
snow, as if an almond tree had shed its
blossoms on the world those brave old
farmers looked out appalled, the har-
vest psalm they had begun to sing,
was ended with dying fall, for over
brown October, the hem Of Winter
was lying like shropd,
The line of corn yet Shvered in the
field, the drifts lay strange about the
lingering flowers, the Lady Arabella
might have brought across the sea.
Then came the Fast day, plant and
prayer, and on those granite hearts
the rain trozc as it fell.
Butby and by, there dawned another
day; the sun shonc with II gentle CLEAN
along New England's red and golden
woods, the snow went up in mists. and
hung in wells as soft as breath of rivu
lets in Spring. The grass grew green
at touch of snow, the cabin doors
swung wide again, and birds renewed
their song
Departed Summer had returned
and her last days were glorious; re
turned,
'Tomark how many shcavcs they bind,
And see if all are ripened well,
With balmy breath she whispers low;
Thy signing flowers look up and give
Their sweetest incense ere they 60,
For her who made their beauties live.
She enters meath the woodlands shade;
Her zcphyrs Lie the lingering leaf,
And bear It gently where are laid
7he loved and lost ones of its grief
And this was a double -summeret
land Aud so, they began to plan
again, for winters white leafhad tallel
out OF time! And so they gave thank
and sang a song, and 50 like holy
Thanksgiving might have been.
That was IL cloudy day when JOIN
Winthrop was dividing his last hand
full Of meal with the starving, and tn
Lady Arabclla Johnson that fair flowe
Of the noble house of Lincoln, was dy
ing in the wilderness Meagre famin
looked in at the door, and the Autumn
wind sighed at the window, but eve
then, that God had brought them safe
ly over the sea, and had girdcd up thci
hearts to be strong, and had drive
them together with His winters, an
had made them strong with His hill,
might they have raised the voice an
hallowcd the day ofThansgiving, an
so might it have been like star in til
night; and so would it ever seem t
us, like the sunshine on a far-of hill
made doubly beautiful through tn
cloud and mist Of Il rainy day.
But such is not Tie story of this Nc
id vcmber Festival, the brightest Thurs
ic day in the calendar of time.
Ill Two hundred and thirty -four yeal
is ago, young Edward Winslow, wh
ID married the mother of New England
first born son was writing Il letter t
mt his dear old home.
ct After the harvest had been gathered
n, wrote Winslow, that sterling MAJ
h. Governor William Bl adford ,dispatchc
company for game, that they migl
so have luXuries for feast, and rejoC
ld together after fruits Of their labor
all were garncred So, rs the rccor
Of runs, they got their game, and the
cooked it, and they ate Oft, and ID,
le- teastcd Massasoit, and ninety Of his Ii
he dians, and they thanked God with a
he their hearts for the good world, an
as, the good things in it. And SO the
nd kept the first Thanksgiving
est A quarter Of II century elapsed, ,whC
itc Governor Bradford declared th
nd since that day, no man had wante
or, for food.
lr- Such is the sNon-told story of Thank
ell giving Day, II sunny thought, son
Pilgrim heart throbbcd out, and sci
re- rejoicing, sparkling down the gray N
lot vembers Of all time to come.
Ike The scene of tomorrow, will
'en worth an Angels looking on throug
ne out the almost continental area
ng twenty-three sovereign States, an hu
air dred thousand tables will be laden !;
sw million hearts be glad. Pcrha]
not where rolls the Oregon; where L
tho Missouri clasps Iowa; where the gre
'py Multnomah wanders; here under
the sunset; there where the day begins;
in valley and forest; on prairie a
i'm mountain; in the cabin and in t
die camp; in the mansion and the ma