The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1880-11-26


treasures Of growth and years and OPP
portuL:ties spent and wasted, but with
the promise If . new and nobler life
opening before him. with that penitent
cry. Father l have sinned against
Heaven and in Thy sight"
| II.
An old brown farm house rested
snugly in little hollow among the
Massachusetts, hills. A quaint old
house with great chimneys. q sloping
roof and dormer windows, with tall
walnut trees swaying over it, and. .
great bitter-sweet vine clambering over
the low caves and messy single roof.
its clustering berries opening their scar
let hearts under the keen fr0st-touches
There are clumps of great lilac and
snowberry bushes in the yard, and dry
stalks where hollyhocks and asters had
bloomed, with few hardy marigolds
still lingering in sunny corners. There
is q garden at the foot of the yard, an
old-fashioned garden, with its broad
center walk down from the picket gate,
with q row of beehives under the plum
trees on one side and lunches of CARA
way and anise, and fennel and dill. for
summer Sundays and winter seed-cakes
on the other, with q hedge of currant
and raspberry bushes, spreading bar
berry in one corner, and a border of
sage and summer savory and saffron
and pennyroyal. And in front of the
garden wide meadows, for the old house
stands amid its clustering barns, apart
from even the drowsy stir of the quiet
country road, with the heights of far,
blue mountainous hills lifting on the
north, and in the east a narrow glimpse
of the sea whose breaking surf may be
heard in storms or the stiffness of clear
nights. The entrance is up shaded
grassy lane, whose gate rolling on
clumsy wooden wheels is seldom closed;
on the one side is the meadow, on the
other stubble field of corn, and be-
yond that the orchard with interlacing
arches of gnarled old trees, and out
from among these juice gathering roots,
bubbles q clear spring that trickles
down across the lane, into q. sunken
messy trough where the horses are led
to water and the cows love to linger on
their way to the milking yard.
1t is Thanksgiving Day, cold and
grayly clear, with . thin pale sunshine
over all the soft brown fields and russell
woods where the leaves of the oak and
beech still cling, but the walnut trees
have long been bare, the lane is full of
the dry rustling leaves ofthe apple and
maple, and the thread of brook MUIR
murs half-choked by them; the bar
berrys CLEAN redder than ever among
their brown branches. as do the few un-
gathered apples swaying on high and
scattered boughs. It is Thanksgiving
Day in the wide old kitchen where the
broad fireplace and brick oven stretch
behind the stove. and on the high
mantel glisten shining brass candle
sticks, the floor white secured, and
whittier still by contrast with the heavy
wainscoting and many-paneled doors.
almost ebony black by time and bright
by frequent rubbing. But there is no
stir of glad hustle, and the old turkey
stands around the door and shakes his
red head in calm security. Holidays
are the saddest days in the year. When
there is only silence and vacant places
for the dear ones that once made their
fullness complete, and SO the white-faced
widow feels as she goes about her SIM
pie morning duties. There is the early
breakfast, and then she takes from its
stand the worn family Bible, in which
is written the birth and death of the
husband and father. whose fingers had
turned its pages for SO many years. and
the children who gathered in that old
kitchen to listen, till, children no
longer, they had gone forth from the
home, some to the tumults of life, some
to the hush Of the grave. In . voice
that is tremulous with years and many
sorrows she reads the chapter indi-
Gated by the faded ribbon as
the one in "course." while the
shock-headed hired man sits very
upright, his thumbs pressed hand
together in token of respectful atten-
ton. Then follows prayer, in which
the daily needs through long repetition
have crystalized into q set form of
phraseol0gy. John is used to it all, to the
remembrance of " this Thy young serv-
ant now before Thee" and for the alb
thrills her voice as she asks for the
missing one, that if he be among the
living the arms Of love may still be
about him." and only thinks that she is
most through. and he will 60 out and
feed the cows their cornstalks. BY and
by he brings the brown horse and still
older "calash top around to the step
ping. stone, and the little widow. in her
carefully kept black, steps in. with q
gentle reproof to John for not going,
too, and taking the lines into her nit
tened hands drives the two miles over
the frozen billy road to the .scenter
church." and all alone in the long,
high-backed Few, save for the memoir
les that cluster there, listens to the
Proclamation and Thanksgiving sermon.
L. A.