The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1881-11-26
COMFORT AND CONTENT.
A Thanksgiving Story.

i =
1t was a chill, gray and sunless
Thanksgiving Day. Down the frozen
road that led to the long covered bridge,
a young man sauntered in an idle. aim
less fashion, pausing now and then to
strike off the heads of the dead black
weeds that bordered the way. Comfort
Nicols watched him from the window
of the little dollhouse, where she had
been sitting with a heart full of bitter
thoughts as she contrasted her lot,
widow and chiidiess, with that of the
many who, with glad anticipations,
were looking for the home gathering
of dear ones. Already she had opened
the gate for Mrs. Gales Tom, with his
load of ruddy boys and girls, and Mrs.
Elwood's Mary, with her wee sweet
baby, and the old dark question that
ever turks ready to spring up in
troubled hearts had whispered: ''What
had they done that their lives should be
crowned with blessings while YOU sat
desolate and alone in your old age?"
1t had not always been SO. Over against
this was set the memory of Thanksgiv-
ing Days that to her, a happy wife and
mother, had been such, indeed. But
there had come dark hours since, when
her husband, gone out in the strength
of his manhood. was brought home
crushed and MANNED for llifS, and for
the group of children by the fireside
there was a group of graves on the hill
side burying- ground-two short ones
for little Content and Ned and a long
one for Willie, the soldier boy. p .,
But through all those tears and griefs
there had remained the solace of sym
pathy, companionship. She could lean
on Abram Nicol's love though his arm
had failed. But now, that, too, was
gone. The cheering voice was silent.
The well-worn crutch was put away;
the lame toll-gate keeper had left the
%, st to which he had for so many years
been faithful Ha- sd. Il asah 2
That morning before the teams began
to stir she had carried a little cluster of
white chrysanthemums from the jar
that was blooming in the window and
laid it among the dead leaves that had
caught in the ragged edges of the still
fresh sod. And yet she had been glad
for Abram, that he was free from
the wearisome burden of his suffering
body. She did not wish him back as
she turned down the hill, the sharp
wind drying the slow tears on her warm
cheeks. But none the less dark had
folded the aching sense of loneliness
and isolation, and when the church
bells rang out from the little village
over the hills she had dreariy said that
she was glad there were people who
had something to be thankful for. And
then, starting back from the rebellion
other. thoughts, was hers, she ques-
toned herself, the only stricken heart
and silent homep Were there not
mothers weeping over sons lost to them
in life and wives sitting in desolation
of widowhoods worse than of death?
Should she murmur, who had the bless
ings of tender memories in the past and
the promise of the Widows God for
the future?a And so, wiping the tears
from her eyes she had seen the figure
sauntering down the hill. One Of
gang of woodchoppers she knew him to
be, almost a stranger in town, and the
thought came to her perhaps far from
home oand lonely and ought, she not
from the very sadness of the day to her
strive to make it brighter for some one
else? But what claim had this stranger
on her that for his sake she should give
up the only Injuries the day could hold,
of tears and sacred recollections, and
over the brief struggle there came-was
it an answering voice or only the echo
of oft-read wordspa "iI was a stranger
and we took me not in" aJasH siiIoy
t,Good morning. iguuma ads MuI
Joel Peaters looked up in surprise.
The bridge was free to foot passers,
and he had notexpected any saiutation.
siTaking a holiday for Thanksgiving,
are you?'' -. -. .....''..- -
Swell. yes, the other boys knocked
offwork, and so did, too, but believe
Ioatin' around is harder still.'1 jea. Isl,
Then if you have nothing in partic-
ular 10 do" continued the widow (and
tohave heard her CHEEKY voice no one
would have thought how lately it had
been choked with tearsl, twill You not
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