The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1877-11-22
MISS WINGS THANKSGIVING.

Miss Wings kitchen was prim and
clean as broom, soap and soft water
calnd make it; and Miss Wing sat in it.
Efgid and warlike, before the blacklist of
stoves, her feet planted firmly on a
square Of rag carpet.
There was never an atom of dust. or
even a SKINNER or tin spoon out of
place in that kitchen; for, in all the wide
world, there was no one or thing that
dared to enter without special permits
sion, excepting few stray sunbeams.
and even they crept in and shimmered on
The geranHlms in the window as if they
hardly dared.
1t was Thanksgiving eve, and the faint
oder OF cranberry tarts and pumpkin
pies crept out from the pantry, and gave
a sort of festal fragrance to the room.
which might have led stranger to be-
hege that Miss Wing meant to celebrate,
and had been preparing for guests. It
would have been difficult for her to tell
you for whom, however, as all her near
est relations lay up on the hillside, and,
driven by her own stern will, "lovers
and friends had departed far from her. "
The only person living who was at all
connected with her was a poor. country
minister, with John Rogers sort of a
faRay. whose life was constant strug-
Gle to cover the body and satisfy the
hunger OF the ten healthy, growing chill
dren. We cannot wonder that he some
times thought of Cousin Selina's age and
NICE little fortune, that "would 60 to
some one" Neither can we wonder
that, IN fit of desperation, he wrote
and asked her to take his oldest daugh-
Ser for the winter.
Let the girl come" said Miss Wing.
III make her useful" So useful, in
deed, that Milly Thorne never went to
bed ct night without seeing ropes of
dried apples that she had strung, and
acres of tallow candles she had dipped.
swimming before her tired eyes.
But all things have an end, and patient
httle Milly Thorne, worn out with hard
work, and despairing of ever finding in
Miss Wing that proverbial soft spot
which Is In every ones heart, packed
her little sachel and went back over the
A1fls to the crowded house, the tired
mother and the MANY children. where
Shere was dearth of everything but love.
no Miss Wing threw away a golden
opportunity OF browning her old age
with love and happiness.
think it must have been from force
OF habit that she had cooked her most
: golden pumpkin and stuffed her latest
outlet for solitary Thanksgiving feast.
For lt was very certain she would bid no
e enc TO share it with her, and still more
Certain that no enc would come unbid-
den. For she set her face like a flint
against visits from grown-up people.
and with every child in the village she
was at open war. The meeker ones
among them would run if they saw her
~ootning, and not even the bravest dare
ask her for flower, while the lawless
ana ungoverned ones invented ways to
torment her.
One little colored boy, especially.
whom the children called Caterpillar.
was the plague of her existence. His
CHIEF amusement was to perch himself
upon her white gate post, his rags fut-
&ering in the wind, the battered crown
OF an old straw hat clinging to his
woody head, and, playing an imaginary
banjo, sing to an admiring dusky audi
ence collected on the sidewalk:
"Ien little darkies STAMINA in line."
AT first Miss Wing affected calm in
difference which she was far from feel
ing. But when it grew to be a regular
entertainment it was more than she
e0uld endure. So one day. when Cater
lsiiar had just commenced his second
6tanza--
. Nine1ithe darkies sitting on gate
Ssae OBJ 'em tumbled off an dar was only eiebt-r
she mode an unexpected assault upon
ham with a broomstick, tumbled him
over ON the sidewalk and summarily dis
persed his audience. Nothing danntad
however, Caterpillar picked himself nm
shook the hostile dust from his garments
and, retreat1ng to a distance, sang:
Ole Nam Wing,
Ugly ole ting;
Crack you ober de skull boyE
Just coz you wanter sing
This act Of Miss Wings was taken as
saal open declaration of war. and peace
and qWetness were over for her.
xahe most mysterious things happened
TO her garden. Tomatoes. that hung
ripe and red upon their stems at night.