The Redwood gazette. [volume] (Redwood Falls, Minn.) 1873-1940, 1874-11-26
HOPES THANKSGIVING EVE.


hill all day there has been great busting
and hurrying to and fro. 1t had begun
in the gray light of the morning, and
long before the sun came climbing over
the hill busy feet had passed from closet
to cellar, from kitchen to pantry, and
willing hanas had hurried from one task
of love to another, and now as the short
November dayis going all is pronounced
| finished.
In the pantry old Hepsa stands gazing
with delight upon the trophies of her
skill and industry. Rows of pies-mince
and squash, apple and pumpkin-shelves
of cake and cakes, and snowy bread;
jars of pickles, preserves and jellies;
and, resting upon the plate of honor, the
, sometime lord of the poultry yard now
waiting for destiny and to-morrow's din
ner.
Yes" said Hepsa, nodding emphat-
ically to Mrs. Grimalkin, her sole conf
dant, IL am sure Miss Hope needn't be
ashamed to walk into my pantry with
any city chap. l wonder, now, if he is
| too proud to cat pumpkin pie. I've
heard say they had gone out of fashion.
Hump! folks don't know how to cook
en- tit to eat nowadays l 'spose. No
wonder city folks have dyspepsia, goin'
without baked beans and pumpkin pies,
to live on frozen cream and SIGH like
trash. Poor Johnny! l wonder if any
body ever cooks anything that he likes
as we'll as he did old Hepsa's pies-my
poor boy"
From the topmost shelf of the pantry
Hepsa took down a little, old, cracked
plate, and looked at it wistfully, while
great tears forced themselves from her
honest eyes, and rolled unchecked down
her hard, worn cheeks. Mrs. Grimalkin
evinced her sympathy for Hepsa's grief
by stealing past her, while her eyes were
shut, to the cream jar. She had forgotten
(sly cat Hepsa's darling, who had been
the torment of her kittenhood. But
Hepsa had not forgotten him, willful, way
she had cooked his little Thanksgiving
pie when he was wee, blue-eycd trOt,
clinging to her apron as she worked
How many times she had used it, but
now for three years it had lain untouched.
For three years her masters son had
been an alien from his home, driven away
by the unbending iron will of the father
whom he had offended.
Twill he never come back again?'
sighed Hepsa.
In the grand keeping room," which
is opened only on such state occasions
as this, no candle has yet been lighted,
but from the wide, open, brick fire. place
a blazing fire throws forth it's cheerful
radiance, driving the batfled shadows
back into the corners, or forcing them to
take ignominious refuge under the heavy
old mahogany furniture.
From the dining-room to Hopes cham
Der, from that to the door to listen for
the sound of the bells, then back to the
dining-rOOm for a few more last touches,
wander Hopes two sisters, Esther and
and Mary.
In grandma's room," the "home
room" Of the house, the father and moth
er are sitting.
Grandma's room!" So it had been
called when John Winthrop brought his
bride to it for his mothers blessing, thirty
years ago this night. So it is still called,
although the good old grandmother has
long since gone out to a mansion not
made with hands," Here, in her chintz-
covered armchair, before the open fire,
sits Hopes mother, waiting. The dear,
patient mother. All day long she had
been sitting there, while others made
ready the welcome for her darling. How
long the hours seemed to her, in her en-
forced inactivity, they never guessed.
She had learned the hardest of life's les
sons-to be still. Now her white hands
are folded upon her lap. The pale cheek,
furrowed and wrinkled with care and
sickness, the soft bands of brown hair
bound smoothly back, the dark, tender,
holy eyes, the patient grace of the wait.
ing figure, all form picture upon which
the man beside her looks with eyes un.
wontedly gentle.
A stern, God-fearing Puritan. A man
who traced his ancestry back to the Pill.
grims of the Mayflower and to the
judges of the Salem witches, with as
much pride as every English peer might
feel to be acknowledged the descendant
of William the Conqueror. Making his
own narrow creed the rule by which to
judge all men, and by which all men who
were found wanting were condemned.
Yet just man withal. Himself walking
in the barren, narrow road which he
pointed out for others to set their feet in,
whatever it might cost him. Born to
this religion as to his farm, he accepted
the one as he did the other without
question, and to be SO transmitted to his
children and his children's children.
Whatever of the fragrance of mercy or
the beauty of love this cold, hard man
has shown in his life, it has been through
the influence Of this weak, quiet woman.
whom he loves and reveres.