Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1881-01-06
"THE SLY OLD FOOL"

The cold northern blasts had sctted
themselves down into legitimate winter
business, bridging streams and locking
up nature in letters Of ice. Every
where through the broad and fertile
land huge granaries were stored with
the golden harvest, cellars actually
groaned with their rich stores of fruit
and vegetables, and the thrifty and in
dustrious inhabitants were about to
celebrate their annual Thanksgiving
to the Great and Bountful Giver of
such plenty, prosperity.
But nowhere diu the greater bounty
prevail than in the homestead of
Farmer Joel Jones. His broad acres
lay but II mile from the thrifty village
of Centerville, where he found an easy
every Sabbath his round and ruddy
face might be seen alongside of the
thin and sallow one of his spinster
sister Betsey, in the old familiar carry
all on their way to the village church,
which ever found willing heart and
ready hand in the unsentmental Joel
Jones, rs its thrifty aspect fully at
tested
A few days previous to the one APP
pointed rs Thanksgiving, he came into
his ample kitchen with n huge golden
pumpkin in his strong arms.
Here, Betsey,' he said, lis one of
the real Yankee punkins, and | want
We to spread yersef maxim a batch
of pies. And Jest say when ye want
that air turkey killed"
What fur, I'd like to know, Joel'
You talk as eyer war goin' ter feed "A
regiment, when thar is only you and
me and the hired man to eat the best
Thanksgiving dinner ever invented.
II know as well as We, Betsey, we
haint got no folks to speak of, but that
amt no sign We amt to eat like other
christians on Thanksgiving day,
'spercerly when I've worked the hull
year like everything, and been pros
pered beyond my deSarts"
An hour latter he looked in upon
Betscy and her sullen preparation for
the coming feast.
'I'm goin' tev town with or load of
oats, and I'll bring you some cramber-
ries to go erlong with yer turkey, Bet
scy, said he, "an' if yer want anythin
else speak quick, fer Pm oil.
The answer of the spinster was a
grunt of dissatisfaction rs she contin-
ued lneading the snowy bread, while
pumpkin stcwed and sputtered on the
,tove in the most savage manner.
"Betscy grows Coulter every day of
her life, poor thing. She's Gittin' old
and the work is tew heavy for her. But
it hain't no use of speakin' of gettin'
help she'd fight me down on that
forever" soliloquized the old man, MS
he drove along. Hey, hub, want ter
rider he called ont to a small speci-
men of humanity, who was trudging
along under heavy load, and who
most gladly accepted the kind offer.
yer Widow Burton's boy, hain't ye?'
he asked. in continuation, after the
boy had scrambled up behind and
perched himself upon a bag of grain.
Eyes sir.
what We got in yer sack, bub?'
Coal sir, that have been pickngup
along the track
dangerous piece o business, and its
strange yer ma should send yer out on
such er errand. The ears will come
crlong some day and chop Yer inter
mincc meat
The poor little pale-taced lad made
- reply. He was too happy IN the
endowment of his unexpected ride to
care for any anticipated danger. At
the door of his humble home the farm
or stopped, and to the surprise of the
lad. got down from his wagon and
hitahed his horses.
Il want ter see yer ma. so III Jest
run in fer u mint, if ven mind the
team.
One of the children answered hls
summons and conducted him into the
little kitchen, where the widow sat
sewing with her brood of little ones
about the Scanty fire.
Don't sit up, Miss Burton, | can
stop but a mint | give yer boy iit
as come along. and he told me that
he goes over on the railroad ter pick
up coal, and thought may hey didn't
know it was dangerous. Their lad Is III
small for sich work, and some day
he'll git killed. So | hope you won't
take it amiss that | named il ter you,
Tears were in the good woman's eyes
long before he had ceased speaking,
and she answered
You are very kind, sir but what
canI do2 It's hard for me to keep my
little family together simply With my