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

long takaa With grssa turkey for ~
centerpiece, and Che house rang With
gay voices and laughter among which
Harry's was the merriest of all. Only
last year Jane was with her, but looking
from her window across the hills she
can see the white stones cleaning in the
little burying ground where the
autumn leaves are drifting over James
grave, and Harry--it is three years
since she has heard of him. three years
that she has been secretly praying God
for the unspeakable comfort of knowing
that he. her baby, her darling has found
the same quiet rest; and now Elizabeth
in Wisconsin and James and Luther in
Iowa are urging her to leave the old
farm and come to them. No, she can
not live alone. but they do not know
what they ask. Leave the old house,
the home to which she came as bride,
the rooms where she sang lQllabys to
her babies and folded the hands of her
dead? And so absorbed in memory a.
she draws out the little round table and
spreads it for the solitary meal, it is
not strange that she does not hear step
coming through the dry leaves in the
lane, q step that pauses by the little brook
and again at the barberry bush; that
hesitates at the gate and, coming softly
up the stone walk, lifts the latch slowly
and gently. The widow hears thats
Some neighbor is coming in. She will
put on another plate. But it il no
neighbours face that greets hers as she
looks up. The plate (and it is one of
her best China, too falls to the floor
in fragments and she walks over them
all unconscious, and The chicken in the
oven gives many warning sputter, be-
fore she is aware Of anything save the
JOY that this, her son that was dead is
alive again, was lost and is found.
There might have been gayer, merriel
Thanksgiving dinners eaten that day,
but hardly one of more heartfelt hap
piness than that in the wide, low-ceileo
kitchen. with the November afternoon
sun shining through the tiny-paned
windows shaded by the scarlet flecked
bitter-sweet vine; where blue jays and
a late robin or two chartered and
f1uttered over their Thanksgiving. True
there is a stain of shame on an honored.
untarnished name, and the shadow of a
disgrace that time nor pemtence can
never wholly wipe away, but there is
the humility that springs in the still
valley of humiliation; the strength that
is born of trial; and the contentedness
of . heart that has found its rest.
That was four years ago. This sum-
mer the Hon. Mr.. Harley in trip
among the Massachusetts, hills passed
through the gate rolling on its clumsy.
wooden wheels. up the grassy. shady
lane, past the gnarled old orchard and
thread of . brook; past the garden with
its Spreading barberry. its spicery
smell of aromatic herbs; its bees hum
ming under the plum trees; up the mar
row stone walk under the tall walnut
trees to the kitchen door, and the joy
Gus greeting of the sun-browned young
farmer, whose smiling face still shows
lines of pain and conflict seldom seen
in one so young. There is q greeting
no less hearty, if shyer, from the
blushing young wife. and the very
young gentleman in very long dresses,
who is introduced as Julius Harley
Brainard. But best of all is the well
come of the Whitehead, white-haired
woman in her arm chair by the bitter
sweet shaded window with her great
Bible open on the stand beside her.
eyes," she said. in her sweet, weak
voice, Il am glad to see you before I
90, and that will not be long, but I have
nothing more to ask. have lived to
see my son restored to me. l shall e11
my life in the old home among the old
friends. The good Lord has granted
me every wish. and since that fc1r
years ago all my days have been
Thanksgiving days. "-CgeuelaSd Her