The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1875-12-03
HOPES THANKSGIVING EVE.

In the old red farm house under the
hill all day there has been great bustling
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 hands had hurried from one task
of love to another, and now as the short
November day is 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 tomoIrow's dim
ner.
Yes, said Hespa, nodding emphat-
ically to Mrs. Grimalkin, her sole conf
dant, " L am sure Miss Hope needn't be
ashamed to walk into my pantry with
any city chap. / wonder, now, if he is
too proud to eat pumpkin pie. I've
heard say they had gone out of fashion.
Hump folks don't know how to cook
'em fit to eat nowadays / 'spose. No
wonder city folks have dyspepsia, goin'
without baked beans and pumpkin pies,
to live on frozen cream and sicb like
trash. Poor Johnny wonder if any
body ever cooks anything that he likes
as well as he did old Hepsa's pies-my
poor boy"
From the topmost shelf of the pantry
Hepsa took down q 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,
wayward boy. That was the plate on
which she had cooked his little Thanks
giving pie when he was wee, blue. eyed
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.
"Will he never come back again 2"
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 fireplace
a blazing fire throws forth its cheerful
,l,..xv h. l,oAu1I loI
back into the corners, or forcing them to
take ignominious refuge under the heavy
old mahogany furniture.
From the dining-room to Hopes cham
ber, from that to the door to listen for
the so1nd of the bells, then back to the
dining-room for few more last touches,
wander Hopes two sisters, Esther and
Mary.
In "grandma's room," the "home
room" of the house, the father and
mother are sitting.
Grandma's room 7" So it had been
called when John Winthrop brought his
bride to it fer his mothers blessing,
thirty years ago this night So it is still
called, although the good old grand
mother has long since gone out to a
"mansion not made With hands," Here,
i'm her chintz-covered armchair, before
the open fire, sits Hopes mother, wait
ing. The dear, patient mother. All day
long she had been sitting there, while
others made ready the welcome for heI
darling. How long the hours seemed tc
her. in her enforced inactivity, they
never guessed. She had learned the
hardest Of life's lessons--to be still