The Red Cloud chief., 1881-01-20

ton. Then followsa PRAYER. In which
the daily needs through long repetEihsu
haye crystalizel into q So; form ol
phra Aeoioyy. John il use I 10 II al. - The
remembrance Of this his young SER
AIT now before Thee" aud for the ab
sent. and 10 the retno ihat alwzy-
thrills her voice n she asks for ib-
" missing one. tia; II be be among the
living the arms Of love NAV still be
about him" and only thinks that she 5
most through AMI he viii q ca and
feed the cow Their corustalks- b and
by he bring the brown horse and SILL
older "easash top" around 20 the step
ping stone. znd the little widow. in her
carefully kept black. steps IN. with =
gentle reprooi 10 John for noi going.
too, and taking the lines into her nit
enc hands drives the two miles Y e
he frozen hills road TO the "center
church." and all alone ia the long.
h~igh-backed Pew. save for the memoir
les that cluster there. listens Ia the
Proclamation aud Thanksgiving sermon.
Passing ou; At the close of the service,
through neighboring family groups.
gathering with cheerful greetings and
chatter. n dirnness comes before her
eyes at the sight As she turns away mp
the steep lonely road. the raw wind
beating sharply in her face. John is
waiting 10 hurry the horse into the sta
bic, and then goes whIs;ling AWAY over
the fields TO his own Thanksgiving. As
she enters the warm kitchen the tooth
some favor of the chicken she has put
to roast dor she cannot let the day pass
without some slight observance OF It's
feasi) meets her. but the tall old clock
ticking so loudly in the corner is the
only sound that breaks the stiffness, and
the great gray cat rubbing about her is
The only living thing that bids her wei
come.
Never before has Thanksgiving day
found her utterly alone. Once there
were fires in the square rooms Z
long table with = great turkey for the
centerpiece, and the 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 stone cleaning in the
little burying ground where the
autumn leaves are drifting over James
grave, and Harry-it is three wears
since she has heard II him, three years
that she has been secretly PRAYING God
for the unspeakab bic comfort Of knowing
that he, her baby, her darling has found
the same quiet rest; and now Elizabeth
in W isconsin 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 a bride.
the room where she sang lullabvs TO
her babies and folded the hands of her
dead? And so absorbed in rs
she draws out the little round table and
spreads it for the solitary meal. il is
not strange that she does not hear a step
coming through the dry leaves in the
lane, a stepthat pauses by the little brook
aud 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 that.
Some neighbor is coming in. She will
put on another plate. But il is no
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
gives many a warning sputter, be-
fore she is aware of ANYTHING save the
JOY that this, her son that was dead is
again. was lost and is found.
There might have been gayer. merrier
Thanksgiving dinners eaten that day.
hardly n of more heartfelt hap
pines than that in the wide, ~low-ceilea
with the November afternoon
sui shining through the tiny-paned
windows shaded BY the scarlet tlecked
vine; where blue Jaws and
q late robin or two chartered and
tluttered yer their Thanksgiving. True
there is a stain of shame on an honored.
name, and the shadow of a
disgrace that time MOI penitence can
never wholly wipe way. but there i
the humility that springs in the still
valley of humiliation; the strength that
is born of trial; and the contentedness
of n heart that has found its rest.
That was four years ago. This sum-
mer the Hon. Mr.. Harley in a trip
among the Massachusetts hills passed
the gate rolling on its clumsy.
wooden wheels. up the grassy. shady
past the gnarlcd old orchard and
of a 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
to the kitchen door, and the JOY
Dus greeting of the s~un-browned young
whose smiling face still shows
of pain and conflict seldom seer
in one so young. There is a greeting
no less hearty, if shyer. from the
blushing young Wits. and the very
Young gentleman in very long dresses.
who is introduced us julius Harley
Brainard. But best of all is the well
come of the white-faced, ~white-haired
in her arm chair by the bitter
sweet shaded window with her great
Bible open on the stand beside her.
YES" she sain. in her sweet, weak
voice, Il am glad TO see you before !
20. and that will not be long, but / have
more to ask. l have lived tn
see nv son restored to me. / shall end
my life in the old home among the old
The good Lord has granted
ne every wish. and since hat four
rears ago all my days have been
Thanksgiving Geceidnd Her
nd.