The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1875-01-12
FARMER H.RwOoD's THANKS.
GIVING
by CARRIE DRCMaoND.

Old farmer Harwood sat in bis big arm
chair before the great hickory frc 10 the
comfortable living room of his house,
with his feet perched on the highly pol
ished andirons that glittered like burnish
ed gold in the glowing freight, and his
eyes fixed on the ruddy mass of Goals
lie was apparently five and sixty years
old, large portly man, very rugged and
healthy, with keen blue eyes aud gray
bushy hair, which had obtained for him
the sobriquet of "Old grizzly" among bis
younger associates. His eyebrows were
white, heavy and shaggy, and bis beard
was thick and gray aud grew over the
entire lower part Of his face, coDocaiue
the rigid lines about his mouth.
He was a man of fierce passion. when
once his temper was aroused or bis 10.
domitable will crossed but ut other
times he was gentle ard docile, else that
mock, patient, little woman at his side
could never have loved him through all
the vicissitudes of life.
Hc was we'll to do farmer, possessing
some Of the finest and best land iu Yer,
mont, besides several factories aud share
in coal mine. Elis home was large, and
Of that good old fashion, that gives such
hospitablc, welcoming look, that none
hesitate in seeking shelter beneath its
homcy cid roof or Of partakiug of the
substantial viapds that grace the table in
the kitchen.
Evidently the rough old Vermonier, al
he sat before the fire, was in deep study
But what he saw in the red bed Of Goals
no oDe will ever exactly know For
Peter Harwood was not given to telling
all of his thoughts, especially those that
were pictured ia the Gre. lie generally
kept these to himself, Perhaps be did
not have the power to depict in language
the thoughts that filled his mind when
tracing shsdowy pictures of fancy in the
ruddy fame which fickered and fiared
and danced in the yawuing Fireplace,
dartiDg out in long fiery leaps, like so
many little forked tongues, or suddenly
becoming extinguished or swallowed up,
By the breaking of a log, or amidst the
shower OF glittering sparks that few uD
the broad chimney There is a touch Of
the poetical in everybodY's nature, and
old Peter liarwood was not an exception
to the rule. That quiet little woman in
the brown dress, with soft shining brown
dress, with soft shining brown hair brush
ed so smoothly from her brow. always
loved TO zee him in that silent, thought,
ful mood, for his rough honest face would
soften. and his eyes would beam more
kindly upon her at such times. She
thought that she knew what no saw in
the glowing embers, yet she never dared
Inquire. With Der, two forms were ever
present.
How strange thst a woman Of such ia.
nate refinement and gentleness. should
cling in loving tenderness to such hard
old man as Peter Harwood, But as it
often is, the tender, delicate vino must
have firm support on which to lean.
Presently old Peter awoke from his
dreams with deep prolonged sigh that
found an answer from Lizzie Harwood's
bosom, as she thrust her trembling, tut.
tering hands into her husbands big brown
ones and leaned her head against his broad
shoulder.
Peter said she softly.
What is it, little woman ? be said.
Next Thursday will be Thanksgiving.
Day.
Yes he nodded, while his brow dark.
ened. How eagerly we used to watch
Tor the day, Lizzie How much we had
to be thankful for then. How you used
to cook and 6x. Gracious me wha,
stacks of apple, pumpkin, mince and Gran,
berry pies you used to make. And cakes
and puddings, and % end to the good
things. We always lad the biggest and
finest turkeys, the incest and plumpes
geese and ducks and all such like. Land
what ravcnous appetite | used to have
and how I'd wiSl the preacher woudu'
preach so long, aud that deacon Miller
would cut short his prayer. l couldA't
see anything but the long table a groau
iu' 10 the dinin'.room under the weight o
good things you'd prepared. Jerushy
what good times we used to have or
Thanksgiving day, kind o wish 'eu
back agin. But 'tain't no use. Tn,
times is changed. and go is Peter Har
wood, It's nigh onto ten years since v,
nod our last ThauksgiviO' dinner, ain
itr
Yes, Peter replied his wife, i wisl
you would let me keep the day again,
would seem little like it used to-"
1t would all be sham, Lizzie, 'twoul,
ell be sham. did'nt think that yor
was hypocrife. Why 'twould all be
make-believe. for we amt got uothiu' t.
be thankful for
oh you mistake, Peter We hay,
good health, we are prosperous-'
| Yes, ws'.e rich. Bat what good'll i