Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1882-12-02
A NANTUCKET THANKSGIVING.

| NnNi OONGI INNt
Elizabeth T. Spring in the Louisville Home
| and Farm.
| To Say that the Clisby House was
empty, swept and garnished, would
only hint at the condition of things;
it sparkled and glowed from the
brass knocker on the front door to
the andirOns on the hearth in the
best spare room.
The faintest suspicion of dust had
been rubbed from the shells on the
mantel, and the carved griffin claws
of the center-table seemed to clutch
their rosewood apples with fresh
energy.
The era of portieres, of dados and
divans had not daWned, at least not
i for this island of the outer sea.
The solid mahogany doors still
closed substantially between parlor
and sitting room; and the broad,
black sofas, with the great high
backed chairs, reached out hoSpita-
bly, to welcome the expected guests,
| for this was thanksgiving eve, and
| the Quaker blood of past generations
could not deaden the joy of this
great festival of.the year.
Grandmother, sitting by the open
hearth fire, now, as always, knit
ting, though the off-island kin We're
hourly expected, still wore the
folded kerchief and drab gown, and
said "thee." Very peaceful she
looked, though the five grandchil-
dren had been playing puss-in-the-
corner for an hour, and at intervals
running to the Window, pressing
their little faces against the glass, to
catch sight of some ones coming,
for Nathan Clisby. with Reuben,
his son, and Cousin Thomas, had
all gone down to the wharf to meet
the EdgartoWn cousins, who were
coming over on the steamer. Aunt
Rachel and her family from Fall
mouth were expected, too, and yet
the steamer must take this night of
all nights to be late.
Grandmother did not go to the
window; she only listened as she
knit for. the sound of, q horn, for
whenever the boatshould come in
sight or signal off the harbor bar,
she knew the town crier. would
climb the tower of the old South
church, close by on Orange street,
and blow loud and long. -, ss.
Anna SeWall, in the big basement
kitchen, knew it too, and groaned
in spirit over the delay of the sup
per; but there was nothing for it
but to wait, and she was not sorry
to hear the children's steps on the
stairs
Down they came in rush, shout
ing out, "Oh, Anna, tell us a
story;" and yellow curls and brown
were soon leaning on her shoulder
or lying in her lap, while she began:
Zone day, as 1 was picking cram
berries in our cranberry patch over
at Marshope," while Simeon, her
husband, with shade more than
usual of soul-subduing Importance,
looked on complacently. Looking
on was usually his part. He never
fOrgets that he had once been Hen
ry Clay's body-servant, and felt
that his presence alone was a GER
tain honor TO any Nantucket house.
1t was Anna who had either from
her Hessian grandmother, or her
Indian mother, or from both, the
genius OF cookery, and no wedding
or sheep-shearing or Friends year
ly meeting was complete without |
this pair to preside over roasting
and steWing.
Love Clisby, the house mother,
and brown eyed, passed |
from room to room in her gentle |
way, and finding all readv and not |
needing her, slipped away in the
it was darkening fast now
in the short November day-and
went up to the front spare room.
She smOothed the folds of the white
dimity bed curtains, half lingering,
as if to apologize to herself for what
she would do, so used she was to put /
some duty in every impulse; then
she opened the upper bureau draw
er and took up little silk kerchief.
Her sister Annice used to wear that
that was the life of old
Thanksgiving5-but whose grave
was made over on the window slope
many long years ago. She kissed
it as she laid it back, taking up
a brown, leather-cOvered Bible,
stained from the sea. Once more
she read over on the fly-leaf the
faint, faded inscription, "To Henry
presented by Uncle Abra-
ham," and the penciled entries
''COld to-day felt homesick."
To-day, wished / was back in
and the date was 1910.
She closed the drawer with a tender
backward thought of the brother
Henry who never came back from
sea, and holding a little picture in
her hand, turned toward the open
fire. Just then there was soft tap
at the door. .-..
"Come in," said Mrs. Clisby, and
Eunice Godfrey gently opened it
and came close to her, putting her
arm round her and looking silently
into the fire, by her side. In mo-
ment the older woman bent and
kissed her long kiss on the fore
head.
"Oh, it seems as if he must come
back l can never give him up,"
whispered Eunice, touching the
picture, then they clasped- each
other Closer these two women,
Walters mother and Walters :
promised wife. 1t was four years
since he sailed away on the "Ann
Alexander" from New Bedford,
bound for a whaling voyage. They
sailed on a South Pacific cruise and
the first year and half the letters
sent at long intervals by passing
shiIs, brought good news. Then
there was pause. The mail bag
carried to Timothy Starbuck's store
from every incoming whaler was
searched over and over vainly for /
any message from Walter or from
the "Ann Alexander" At last
there was worse than silence. The
"Ganges" came in with two or /
three of the Sam Alexander's"
crew. They brought the story of |
the ships having been struck by u
whale off the Azores. The crew
were forced to take hurriedly to the
three Gn,aH hoafa with such stores |