Weekly Trinity journal., 1873-11-29
Written for the TRINITY JouRNAL-l
SIMPSONS THANKSGIVING.

Simpson thai he was an old bachelor. L
say it was his misfortune, because hap
pen to know that he had made several
efforts to get out of that most undesirable
state. But, although there are philoso-
pliers who argue that there is mate for
every man in the world if he only looks
in the right place, that every Jack has
his Gill, my friend Simpson seemed to be
trightful example of the truth of the
adage that there are exceptions to all
rules, he being the exception in this par
ticular case. He was not bad looking,
was In tolerably fair circumstances for a
miner, and was, withal, as good-natured
chap as you would meet in days
walk. But all these good qualities car
ried no recommendation to the hearts of
the fair ones of the fourishing mining
camp of Rabbit Hill, and at last Jack
Simpson gave up in despair, and seemed
reconciled to settle down quietly to life
of single blessedness.
My own opinion of the matter is that
Jack was rather too fastidious. OF course
when man is looking for a partner for
life, he is a muggins if he bites at the
first bate that comes in his way, but then,
again, there are some points in the eter-
nal fitness of things" that ought not to
be overlooked. So when Mr.. Simpson
made his last break, after old Snipkins'
daughter Betty, who, though taller than
her mother, was only fifteen years old, l
prophesied that it would not be long be-
fore he'd find himself "plsyed out in
that quarter, also. And my head was
level. When he mentioned the thing to
Betty, she laughed as only Pike county
raised girl can laugh, and told him he
had better wait till her mother got to be
n widow, and try for her. This indelicate
allusion of Betty's to the forty years of
my friend Simpson, had wonderful eff
feet upon him. He went to his cabin on
Whisky Ravine, discarded linen shirts
and black cloth breeches, and for year
or two seemed perfectly oblivious of the
fact that Nature had divided mankind
into two sexes, and that there was such
thing as woman in existence.
But as the years rolled their onward
course, the memory of this last snub" :"
died away sufficiently for him to once
more put in am appearance In society,"
The fact was that Jack was really in love
this time, and true love, like true merit,
is always modest and hesitating. Once
or twice, when in the presence of the
charming little widow, whose image held
possession of his heart, had be been on
the point of pouring forth the pent-up
feelings of his bosom, but the remem-
brance of the cruel rebuff of former years
checked the words upon his lip, and the
tale of his love remained untold. Thus
it might have been for years had it not
been for certain incidents, which l now
propose to relate in this most veracious
history. | cannot say that the conceal
ment seemed to "prey on the damask
cheek of my friend Jack in fact his
check, and also his nose, had assumed
rather more of damask tinge since he
had commenced to cherish his hopeless
love than was their wont before.
The charming widow lived in a charm
ing little cottage at the junction of Whis-
ky Ravine and Nugget Gulch, half mile
away from the lonely cabin of Mr.. Simp-
son. Often when that gentleman passed
the charming cottage, on his way to the
Hill, did the thought arise how happy
would life be to him if he were only the
possessor of that cottage-and its inmates
also. For the lamented Mr.. Blythers
had left three images of himself to the
care of his bereaved spouse, and it was
through the instrumentality of one of
these olive branches that the acquaintance
OF the Widow Blythers and my friend
Simpson was brought about.
"What do they always appoint Thanks
giving Day in November for ?" Such
was the mental inquiry of M. Simpson,
as he stood in his door way, watching the
falling rain-drops. The truth was, it had
been continual storm Tor several days,
and Mr.. Simpsons larder sadly needed
replenshing. 1t had been his intention to
take his Thanksgiving Dinner at the vii
lage hotel, but the storm discouraged him
and after taking one last look at the cloud
ed sky, he abandoned that idea and put
on a fresh pot of beans. Having thus
initiated culinary proceedings for the fes-
tival, Mr.. Simpson took down the lard
can in which be kept his yeast, stirred in
some more -four and set it above the fire.
place. This done, there was nothing
more to do until the yeast should be in
good working order, and taking the last
weeks paper from the shelf, Mr.. Simpson
prepared to put in the interim to the best
possible advantage.
The boiling and sputtering Of the bean |
pot, joined with clear conscience, pro-
duced soothing effect on the mind of
Simpson, and he was soon in the land of
dreams. And probably there Is no way
in which he could have passed the time
more happily. For, when man is sound |
asleep, he is out Of misery. He cares
nothing then whether his diggin's pay
salt, or an ounce day whether quick
silver is worth fifty cents or two dollars
pound in truth he is, for the time being,
freed from all sub lunary ills as effectual-
ly as if he inhabited another planet. But
with the awaking comes renewed sense
of the sorrows of life, as Mr.. Simpson
found. AS he opened his eyes he saw
that there was temporary lull in the
storm, and the widows boy had taken
advantage of it to come in search of the
family COW.