Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1879-11-23

| eazed into the tace Of his earthly idol.
All night he sat half daxed nor could
ne be induced to leave the room.
Morning came, and he walked Devil;
dered about the house, noticing here and
there the preparations for the funeral.
He opened the closet and saw before
him a coat worn by the boy, ane then
he broke down again and wept until the
tears would no longer come.
The next day came ana the funeral
service was read
Old Peter was there, his sober, solemn
face framed between others from the
store, but looking out always pltifully
at his grlef-stricken master.
At last came the lowering of the coffin,
the fall of the clods, and the old, old
words.
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust"
| Bolter stood till the last clod fell, and
then followed the others away, back to
the silent home, back to communion
with his bruised heart, back to the weary
round OF existence.
His wife and daughter were left him,
the former patient, faithful woman ;
the later sweet modest girl, but the
idol of his heart was gone, and he seemed
to have little to live for now.
II do not care to get rich," he said to
himself again and again, "now that he
is gone. Business may take care Of it.
| self. No misfortune that can befall me will
effect me now.
But Bolter was mistaken. There came
sudden Eeverses. At first he almost smil-
ed at them, but then came others, and he
grew anxious.
Finally, affairs became desperate, and
he thoroughly reused himself. But it
was idle. His goods were seized and
sold; his very home was levied upon and
soon passed from his possession. He
gathered the little remnants of property
that he had saved, and moved his family
into modest quarters. Soon he was
forced to leave these for humber rooms,
and necessity at last drove him to the
fifth floor of a tenement house, and start
ed him out on the streets IN search of
work for bread enough to save himself
and family from starvation.
Oh, how he looked back then, to the
bright days when he had abundance, a
cheerful home, a happy family; and how
he wondered that he could have replned
at such a lot.
So the days went by, and another
Thanksgiving day came around. Sitting
by the dying embers in his bleak quar-
tiers, looking upon the pinched faces and
shivering forms Of his wife and daughter;
seeing no hope for the morrow, the
strong man broke down completely, and
threw himself on his coarse bed in utter
despair.
Lying there, convulsed with the great
sobs which shook his frame: he heard
footsteps on the stars, and then there
came a knock at the door.
His wife opened it, and there stood
who but old Peter, with basket of veg
etables on his arm, and IN his hand q
brace of very fat fowls.
| Peter took off his hat IN the old fash
ion, and stammeringly said: "It hahn:
turkey, 'zackly, you see, missus, but it's
a pigeon or two for Thanksgivlng.'
Almost his very words Of year before.
and BOlter hushcd his breathing as he
listened.
you see,' continued Peter, II got a
little work to do this week, and bein' as
tomorrow was Thanksgiving, I thought
bring 'em round.''
"Bless his noble soul," thought Bolter.
Gould speak to the boss minute?"
said Peter, glanclng toward the bed
"He's asleep, poor man, returned
Mrs. Bolter.
"Well, then, you can tell him whon
he wakes up" said Peter, 'that therey
good place open for him now in Caron's
warerooms, and they told me psight call
round and say he could begin right
away"
Mrs. Bolter caught refers hands in
hers, Florence bega- to cry, and Eolter
lay perfectly stil' 1or a moment, almost
afraid to bres.ne, but thinking that to-
morrow would be, after all, the happiest
| THANKSGIVING he had ever known. Then
he sat ~ ~ on the bed, and with tears
strea~lng down his face, he held out his
bids to Peter, and said, "God bless you,
my faithful friend, God bless you2"
And Peter grasped the preferred hand,
but in moment more began shaking
him most vigorously, and crying out:
'Rouse up, sir; rouse up! What can be
the matter with you?"
Then his wife and Florence came and
there WAS more shaking, and at last Mr..
Boiler stood up and gazcd in stupefed
way, around, not at dying embers, not at
Peters pigeons, bnt at three astonished,
though laughing faces, and at the we'll
furnished office Of his own store.
''Why will you never wake up!' SAID
Mrs. Bolter. Here Peter has been try
ing for five minutes to rouse you, and the
dinner will be cold. We came after you,
fearing you would be late, and Paul is
waiting in the carriage for u.s."
''Pauln' exclaimed Mr.. Bolter, ''Paulw
Yes, Paul; but we should never have
found you if old Peter hadn't been going
past with his pigeons and let US in.
Gomez"
And was this indeed al dream? Was
Paul spared to him as we'll as his home
and his business?
Mr.. Bolter sat down in his chair once
more, and buried his face IN his hands.
Il thank God,' said he, s'that all these
blessings. so undeserved and hitherto
unrecognized, have been spared to me.
This shall be o day of Thanksgiving IN
deed. for me-
He turned, as he was passing meekly
out at the door, to Peter, who was fol-
lowing, and placing u bank-note in his
hand, SAID
'Peter, there is time yet for turkey:
If you cant cook it to-day, have it to-
morrow. I have changed my mind, and
we will not open any earlier than usual.
Besides you can have a double holiday if
you wish. We have much to be thank
full tor And then he got in beside
Paul and they drove away.
This is not a true story, but 1t ought