The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1878-12-19
Susan Lanes Christmas.
a HOLIDAY sTOR
BY BAYARD TAYLOR.

"Three skeins, dark gray!-Only a
yard of ribbon! Don't lose, the pat
!!-And the cotton wadding!!!p$
The old covered buggy was rolling
away from the gate, as Lydia Maria Lane
called, or rather screamed, with rising
shrillness of voice, these parting direc-
tions. But Susan neither looked back
nor answered; on the contrary, the -four
ish of whip was momentarily visible,
the horse started briskly forward, and
&he buggy whirled into the main road.
well, [ never!" Lydia Maria ex-
claimed, as she drew the shawl around
her shoulders, and rested her elbows on
the gate-post; 81 don't believe she half
knows what she's about, So fdgety all
at once, and her hands so hot! T hope
TO goodness it isn't the typhus."
It was the day before Christmas. SUI
sans biggest turkey was to be caught
and killed that afternoon, and there
were various articles cranberries being
not the least important among them-to
be procured at the village store. The
sky was uncertain, and the pleasant
brown landscape was dappled with
CLEANS of struggling sunshine, but there
was just that touch of healthy cold in
the air which makes December, in South
ern Pennsylvania, as lovely as any au-
tumn month. Lydia Maria, tall and
wiry spinster of-well, we may allow 40
years, but not day overlooked into
the garden and noticed that the sage
and parsley were still tolerably fresh.
AS she pulled the best sprigs, with a
view to the to-morrow's turkey, faint,
delicious odor surprised her nostrils.
IN that warm corner which was sheltered
by the clump of box a whole bed of
white violets had suddenly doomed |!
The perfume and the sight of the flow
ers made her think of Susan again, and
an unusual, softened expression came
over her rigid face while she gathered
enough to fill saucer.
Somehow, it was always Susan's tur-
key which was taken for Christmas. In
fact, it was owing to Susan alone that
Christmas had come to be commemor-
ated in the Lane farmhouse. The peo-
Eple OF the neighborhood were partly of
quaker and partly of Baptist descent,
vw1th a slight infusion of the Scotch
Irish Presbyterian element. They had
never been accustomed even to yearly
Thanksgiving festival, and only few of
them had inherited the habit of looking
for any special good cheer at Christmas
time. But when young William Lane
enlisted as soldier of the Union, Su-
san, then girl of IA, could not hear of
the turkeys and sausages and pies sent
to other sons and brothers in the regi-
ment encamped on the hills beyond
Washington without fairly extorting
from the family a like gift for William.
Her father and her older brother, Jere-
miah, were opposed to the war; her
mother was dead, and Lydia Maria,
silently enduring what country-people
call Ga disappointment" took but a
languid interest in the work. It cost
Susan much labor and many tears, but
she finally succeeded, More than this.
she offered up her only remaining tur-
key, roasted it, set it on the table that
very Christmas day, and comforted
herself with the fancy that William was
enjoying, at the same moment, his hap
py flltof breast and side-bone.
The next winter the brave young fell
dow was in Libby prison, and no one
made objection to the large box for
warded to him, in the fond belief that
She Express Company delivered their
packages punctually inside OF the South
ern lines. Alas! the box never arrived;
but they did not know of this until
months afterwards. They ate Susan's
'turkey,,as usual, then and for years sue
-ceedlng the first objections, prompted
10y old Gideon Lanes habit of self
denying economy, were gradually for
gotten, and thus Christmas day Gas also
at many of the neighboring farm-houses)
came to be an accepted festival, if rather
o sober one. Even Lydia Maria, as she
walked toward the house with sage,
parsley and white violets in her hand.
found herself thinking of the morrow
with restful pleasure
Jeremiah, who had been at work in
Che wood-shed, met her near the kitchen
door. He looked at the herbs she car
ried, nodded slightly to himself as if to
say, "It's about right" and then sud
denly exclaimed: "See here! Isn't 1t
time for somebody else to give the
Christmas turkey?"
Gracious, Jerry!" exclaimed Lydia
Maria, with a start; " how came you to
say. what was passing in my own
mind?"
ct donb,know how, exactly; I seemed
to think ofit last year, and SO it kind O.
turned up again"
We'll, them" said his sister, after
voo11co of raAactian " Susan's nitbar