McCook weekly tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 188?-1886, 1884-12-11
Tins Thanksgiving Dinner. :
Rloomiuptou 1,hrouph Mail.

Bloomington Through Mail.
Little Tim did such odd jobs as nc
could secure to aid his mother in max
ing living for humble twain. Their
home was in tenement in the great
city of Chicago, and to reach it it was
necessary to go up flight of stairs in
an alley and then along long balcony
until you reached another stair, and SO
on until you were five stories from the
ground. When you got there you saw
no soft, warm carpets, nor did you OBJ
serve any pictures or even a fire. The
floor of that dark black room was cold
and bare and the walls and ceiling were
more bare than the floor, but aside from
a few cheap cooking utensils hanging
on the walls they were as bare as apious
mans pate.
The day before Thanksgiving Tim
had sold some papers, BACKED some
boots, shoveled some snow off some
walks, and when he went home at even
ing he had dollar and thirty cents,
and his mother had earned two dollars
that day, so they put their money to-
gether and Tins mother said God had
been good to them that day, and they
could pay their weekly rent and buy
ten whole bushels of coal and actually
have fire Thanksgiving evening. Tim
had ideas of his own, however. He
had contracts to shovel the snow off the
walks at half dozen places the next
morning, and knew he would have a
dollar and a half by noon, so he said
to his mother before they retired:
''Mam, don't you eat no dinner be-
fore come home, for you're going ter
be invited out to-morrer.
''Tim, I'm afraid you are joking"
his mother replied.
'tNo | amt, nam. Just as sure as l
live you're going to be invited out to-
morrer." Then they slept until morn
ing, when Tim arose and went forth in
to the crisp cold air to do his work. He
sold enough papers to yield him half
dollar and "shined" five different mems
boots, and by the time he had began
shoveling snow he had already earned
a dollar. At eleven o'clock he had
made two dollars, and at once set out
for home. On the way he stopped where
there was a great crowd, and while
he was looking on one of the roughs,
who were fighting, fired shot from a
small pistol. The bullet lodged in Tins
breast, but he never said word, only
turned away and hurried to his mother.
''Tim. Tim, what makes you so
pale?" she asked, as he ran into the
room.
''Oh, you just think SO, man," he
replied. 1.-The snow is so white it
makes everybody look pale. There,
mann, is dollar | made this morning."
"Oh, Tim! you have had a splendid
day, haven't youP''
''Pretty good, nam, but I've made
another dollar, and I'm goin' ter invite
yer out ter dinner"
swell, I will 60 with you, Tim, but
where will we gop''
I've got it a, sged out at one of
the bang-up rest. ats, mam-down
to the Boston, ana we'll go down there
and eat a dozen apiece of them whalin'
great big Blue Point oysters, with eel
cry and pickles, and Saratoga chips,
and everything just as nice as you ever
saw"
As they went out Tins mother saw
some drops of blood on the snowy bal
cony, and spoke of it, but Tim only
laughed, and said he guessed it was the
blood of the Thanksgiving turkey they
did not have.
The steaming oysters, nicely brown
ed, with all their Accomplishments, were
set before Tim and his mother, and
they eagerly devoured them, but Tim
surreptitiously slipped nearly half of his
into his mothers plate, one at time,
while she was admiring the luxurious
surroundings between bites.
''Ain't they good?" asked Tim.
''Oh, Tim! I'll never forget this din
ner as long as live"
sWell, I'm glad of it mann, for we'll
never eat together no more.''
Why, Tim, what do you mean? You
are pale"
"Waiter, here's your money" called
Tim, gasping. IMAM, l mean
mean I'm shot. That was my blood on
the landing, nam, but 1 wanted yer to
have good Thanksgiving dinner fore
you knew it, cause l knowed-you
Wouldn't eat if tole yer sooner.
was pale, mann, and I'm pale now,
and my ole boots is Almost full of
blood"
The little fellow had been drawer
than any man on battle field, and had
kept his word, for he was alive when
noon came, and he invited his mother
out to dinner as he said he would.
They called a surgeon, but it was too
late. Tim was dead when he arrived,
and gave thanks that night in para
disc.
For Half Lifetime.
Mrs. John Gemmell, Milroy, Miflin
O. Do ho S,,,-;nor af 1Ss1