Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1883-11-15
Ursula's Thanksgiving


was coming home from her daily task
of toll at the district school.
The little mountain stream was all
choked with dead leaves; the gourd-
shell lay broken in pieces among the
yello wing ferns; and as Ursula stopped
to gather up scarlet vine-leaf which
still retained its vivid glow, the setting
sun burst from bank of sullen clouds
and seemed to encircle the whole world
with belt of amber light, while sud-
den gust of frost-scented, autumnal
wind swept the leaf from her hand
and sent it eddying Enthusiastically down
the dark wood-path.
Ursula sighed.
"It is like an omen of evil" said
she. al was thirsty, and the spring is
full of leaves and the shell broken; l
wanted the bright leaf, and the wind
has blown it away. And don't know
how l am ever to tell grandfather and
grandmother about the district school"
Then, quickening her footsteps, she
hurried down the road, never pausing
until she reached an old, steep-roofed
house, painted dull red. and half hid
den by the giant boughs of huge chest
nut trees.
There had been an old toll-gate there
once, but it had long been disused, and
nothing remained of it but a sort of
picturesque arch over the roadway, all
twined with wild vines.
And Grandfather Hall was carrying
an armful of wood into the kitchen
door as Ursula came up. Grandmother
Hall was knitting by the fire, in her
cushioned rocker.
1t was five years since Grandmother
Hall had put her feet to the floor, yet
she was indomitably cheerful through
it all If there was a bright side to
anything, Grandmother Hall always
found it out; if not, she set herself to
work to imagine one.
"Ah, here you are, Ursulyr' said
the old man, mournfully. And high
time you come. The old turkey-hen is
lost, and the apple sass is scorched, and
Lewis Crawford hain't called for them
eggs, and if they amt sold we shan't
have penny to put in the contributions
plate tomorrow, after the Thanksgiv-
ing services.
"Laws sakes, father" said Mrs
Hall, whats the use Of rainin' evil
news on Ursula like that? Don't you
see she looks pale and tired? The
turkey-hen is safe in the branches of
the seckel pear-tree; | saw her just
now. And as for the apple-sass, don't
dislike little scorch myself; it gives
fovor. And I'm sartin sure Lewis
Crawford'n come along yet 1t amt
late, you know"
And, leaning over until you would
have been sure she must lose her bal
ance, Grandmother Hall opened the
oven-door to see how the johnny-cakes
were getting on. For corn-meal was
cheap, and the old lady had a fashion
of reproducing it in every possible
style.
Granny" said Ursula, with quiv-
ering lip, I'D better tell you at once
Squire Deans daughter is to have the
district school next quarter, They
don't need my services any longer, they
say. Oh, granny, granny what is to
become of us"
Old Mr.. Hall sat down with a groan.
"I knowed there was some i'll luck
coming" said he. "There was a rab-
bit ran across the orchard path when l
went to pick up apples - right square
across the pathP'
"Father, DON'T" said the old lady.
swallowing some sort of lump in her
throat. "That's clear superstition
Don't fret, Ursuly. We shall get along
somehow, never fear"
"Oh, yes," sighed Grandfather Hail.,
satirically, "we shall get along, even
if we have to burn up the side of the
house to keep us warm, and gnaw our
fnger-ends for food. Things is coming
to crisis now, mother. Squire Dean
was over to see me about the place to-
day. It's to be sold at auction - Mon
day, two weeks - and I'd like to know
what is to become of us then. All, it
was black day when I lent that
money to Stephen Gregson, and bur-
dened the old house with debt.
might have known he was scamp, or
he wouldn't have wanted to 60 away