Fayette County herald. [volume] (Washington [Washington Court House], Fayette County, O. [Ohio]) 1860-1???, 1879-11-13
POLLY'S PIES.
A Thanksgiving story.


The clock struck three; and like a
punctual Fate, Polly, shovel in hand,
flung wide the oven-door. For hours
had thatmystic laboratory been atwOrk,
unseen of mortal eye, and the fragrance,
compounded of spice, of sugar, Of crust
ed loaf and savOry fowl, which now
floated forth and filled the kitchen, told
the result. Far through the house
spread Che delicious whiff; and stir
anG oustle overhead announced that
some one there recognized the signal,
and kpzST that baking was done.
In and out Travelled the busy shovel
till the inner depth, where yet red
glow fingered, was reached, gave up
its last treasure, and Polly, making a
fan of her apron, stood before the table
to inspect the result. There they were,
ranged in order due, the loaves brown
and white, the rolls, the cracking pork
and beans, the election cake,1'' that
difficult dainty, over whose precarious
fortunes she had watched till midnight
the two-and-twenty pies, gold, brown,
and cranberry red, toothsome mince
and translucent apple, custard fecked
with cinnamon, tarts open-mouthed
and gaping for the friendly jam; and
in the midst, its disk of yellow earth
enware towering above the rest, the
huge chicken pie, to whose composition
had gone such wealth of cream, of cell
cry, of fatted pullets, as is not often
met with outside the limits of the Pur-
sail farm. With something of the feel
ings of a General at the head of his
battalion, Polly reviewed her forces,
noting here and there specially crisp
edging, and in her own mind appor-
tioning this and that to Uncle Nathan
or Aunt Sapphira, and these to grace
to-morrow's dinner; for tomorrow
was New England's special day-that
''great day of the feast yin behalf of
which Governors are wont to make
proclamation, and neighbors to vie in
friendly zeal of housewifery and kind
remembrance Of those who have no
portion Of their own.
eyes," said Polly, half aloud, "that
will be the best for the BUlger children,
| guess. The crust is little too brown,
but they won't mind that, and it's so
big. Then old Aunt Pigett shall have
this; and that one I'll send"
An approaching footstep cut short
the soliloquy, and, blushing rosy red,
she caught up one special pie, and hur-
ried it into the table drawer. Next
moment her mother entered.
swell, Polly, done%
ayes, mother. Come and look at
them"
They made pleasant picture, that
mother and daughter, as they stood
side by side before the long ironing-ta-
BILE. Mrs. PursaH was tall and erect,
the very model of a farmers wife.
Strong, sweet, with face unfurrOwed by
the wheels of that team, Care and
Worry, who drive so heavily over fe-
male rood looks in our country, and
smile undimmed and bright, it was easy
to vision forth the bonny bride who,
thirty years before, had passed through
that door on her wedding morning to
be from thenceforth the Joy and COM
fort of all within. And beside her
stood the vision renewed in early youth,
the same eyes of happy blue, the same
dimpled cheeks, the same capable
hands; for Mrs. Pursall was noted
housewife, and Polly inherited the gift
in full measure. 1t was with a little
heartbeat that she now watched her
mothers critical survey, and the nod
with which it concluded.
"First-rate, dear; 1 never saw better
And what lot of theml Some are to
send away, / suppose%
so, yes, indeed; it would take as a
month to eat them all. See mother,
these are the ones l picked out for our
selves-for tomorrow and Sunday you
know. And the others sre for different
folks-old Katy and Uncle Nat, and the