The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1881-11-25
COMFORT AND CONTENT.
A Thanksgiving story.

1t was 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 heart full of bitter
thoughts as she contrasted her lot.
widow and childless, 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 agee"
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 life, and for
the group of children By the freside
there was a group of graves on the hill
side burying-ground-two short ones
for little Content and Ned and long
one for Willie, the soldier boy.
But through all those tears and griefs
there had remained the solace of SYM
patty, confpanionship. She could lean
on Abram Nicors 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
post to which he had for so many years
been faithful.
That morning before the teams began
to stir she had carried little cluster of
white chry santhemums 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
Tor 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 drearily said that
she was glad there were people who
had something to be thankful for. And
then, starting back from the rebellion
of her thoughts, was hers, she ques-
toned herself, the only stricken heart
and silent home? 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 futureP And so. wiping the tears
from her eyes she had seen the figure
sauntering down the hill. One of a
gang of woodchoppers she knew him to
be, almost stranger in town, and the
thought came to her perhaps far from
home and lonely, and ought she not
from the very sadness of the day to her
strive to make it brighter for some one
elsep But what claim had this stranger
on her that for his sake she should give
up the only luxuries the day could hold,
OF tears and sacred rec0llections, and
over the brief struggle there came-was
it an answering voice or only the echo
of oft-read words? 81 was q stranger
and We took me not in"
Good morning"
Joel Peaters looked up in surprise.
The bridge was free to foot passers,
and he had not expected any salutatiOn.
Taking holiday for Thanksgiving.
are you?"
..Well. yes. the other boys Knocked
off work, and so did. too. buN believe
loafin' around is harder still"
.sThen if you have nothing in partic-
u!ar TO do" continued the widow (and
to have heard her CHEEKY voice no one
would have thought how lately it had