Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1870-12-08
From Scribner's Magazine for December
HULDAH THE HELP.
A THANKSGIVING LOVE STORY.

A THANKSGIVING LOVE STORY.
REMEMBER a story that Judge Bal
com told few years ago on the after
noon Of Thanksgiving Day. | do not
feel sure that it will interest everybody
as it did me. Indeed, am afraid that
it will not, and yet cannot help think
ing that it is just;thc sort Of triile that
will go we'll with turkey, celery, and
mince pie.
1t was in the Judges own mansion
on Thirty-fourlh street that | heard it,
1t does not matter to the reader how l.,
a stranger came to be one of that fam
lily party, Since could not enjoy the
society Of my own family. it was an act
of Christian charity that permitted me
to share the joy of others. We had
eaten dinner and had adjourned to the
warm bright parlor. l have noticed on
such occasions that conversation is apt
to flag after dinner. Whether it is that
digestion absorbs all ones vitality, or
for some other reason, at least so it gen.
orally falls out that people may talk ever
so brilliantly at the table, but they will
hardly keep it up for the first half-hour
afterward. And so it happened that
some of the party fell to looking at the
books and some to turning the leaves of
the photograph album, while others
were using the stereoscope. For my
own part, l was staring at an engraving
in dark corner of the parlor, where |
could not have made out much if | had
desired,-but in reality | was thinking
of the joyous company of my own kith
and kin, hundreds of miles away, and
regretting that could not be with them.
"What are you thinking about, papa"
asked Irene, the Judges second daugh-
ter.
She was a rather naughty looking
girl of sixteen, but, as l had noticed,
very much devoted to her parents. AT
this moment she was running her hand
through her fathers hair, while he was
rousing himself from his revery to ans
wer her question.
"Thinking Of the old Thanksgiving,
which were so different from anything
we have here. They were the genuine
thing; these are only counterfeits."
"Come, tell us all about them, please"
This time it was Annie Balcolm, the
older girl, who spoke. And we all
gathered round the Judge. For notice
that when conversation does revive, after
that period of silence that follows din
ner, it is very attractive to the whole
company, and in whatsoever place it
breaks out, there is soon knot Of inter-
ested listeners.
II don't just now think of any partic-
ular story of New England Thanksgv-
ings that would interest yon,' said the
Judge.
"rell them about Huldah's mincc
pie said Mrs Balloon, as she looked up
from a copy of Whittier she had been
reading.
1 cannot pretend to give the story
which follows exactly in the Judges
words, for it is three years since | heard
it, but as nearly as l can remember it
was as follows:
There was a young lawyer by the
name of John Harlow practising law
here in New York twenty odd years ago.
His father lived not very far from my
father. John had graduated with hon
ors, had studied law, and had the good
fortune to enter Immediately into a
partnership with his law preceptor, Ex-
Gov. Blank. So eagerly had he pursued
his studies that for two years he had
not seen his country home. | think one
reason why he had not cared to visit it
was that his mother was dead, and his
only sister was married and living in
Boston. Take the "women-folks" out
of a house, and it never seems much
like home 10 a young man.
But now, as Thanksgiving Day drew
near he resolved to give himself a brief
release from the bondage OF books. He
told his partner that he wanted to go
home for week. He said he wanted
to see,his father and the boys, and his
sister, who was coming home at that
time, but that he specially wanted to
ride old Bob to the brook once more,
and to milk Cherry again, just to see
how it felt to be farmers boy.
"John," said the old lawyer, "be sure
you fix up match with some of those
country girls no man is fit for anything
till they are well married, and you are
now able, with economy, to support a
wife. Mind you get one of those coun
try girls. These paste and powder peo-
pie here aren't fit for young MN who
wants woman
"Governor," said the young lawyer,
laying his boots gracefully up on top of
pile of books, as if to encourage
reflection by giving his head the advan.
tage of the lower end of the inclined
plane, Governor, l don't know any
thing about city girls. | have given