Smyrna times., 1886-11-24
Our Thanksgiving.


faces and happy hearts.
l remember just how yellow and
murky the sunshine lay on the floors
that morning, and how l thought the
wind walled about the corners of the
house-to me it was no frolic. The
children came in from play while l was
at work, all flushed and eager and
happy, jOstling and pushing each other
good naturedly in the entry.
Dinner time came at last and they
gathered round the table gleefully-
| thought, with half bitterness, as if
they had all been there.
"Why, what's this for?" asked
Harry, stopping. Mother, you've got
one chair too many"
"Hush, Harry knOw-don't you
?" and then Lucy finished her SEN
tence in a whisper.
Why had done it? | hardly knew.
To lay the plates and set the chairs,
and pass that one plate by-thlt place
that always was by mine it seemed
hard. 1t was a very little thing; but
you know how dear these little things
! become to women sometimes.
So l put it there-the empty chair !;
and with its pitiful, appealing blank
ness beside me, sat down to the fes-
tival meal. | remember just how
everything looked, as in picture-my
husbands face, with its peaceful smile,
and the children grouped around in
the old places and a fleck of yellow
sunlight that had fallen in through the
warm south window upon the table
cloth. / remember everything. 1
know chat John had just bowed his
! head to ask blessing Oh our food, and
the children's eyes were closed, when
saw saw as distinctly as / see this
paper upon which | write the words
a shadow fell across the empty chair.
turned my head. and l saw him, my
dead boy Willie. know it was Willie
! You need not doubt me, for tell you
cannot be mistaken. Should not
know him, l, his mother? l looked
deep, deep into his eyes. l saw the
old rare smile; l touched his own
bright curls upon his forehead; spoke
to him; he spoke to me.
"Willie!"
" Mother ~
The voice was breathless, but it was
his.
willie Willie /"
Again the old, rare smile. With one
hand he mOtioned silence. His fathers
voice hushed the amen, and the chill
dren looked up and began their chat
ter.
did you speak to me, Mary ?"
asked my husband.
mo"
"Why, l thought some one spoke
during the blessing"
So they did not see him. alone was
chosen. I looked into his face smil-
ing, smiling down into mine so tender
! ly-yOu cannot imagine how tenderly
but in his eyes ! saw-and | thought
my heart would break to see it-a GER
tain sad, reproachful look, that l had
caught on his face once, years ago,
when accused him of injustice OfsOme
triiling, childish fault-a look that had
haunted me in many a still hour since.
And then l heard him say distinctly,
though not to another ear was the
breathless voice audible:
want them to be happy. | want
you to enjoy the day. Did you think |
should not be with you mother ?"
He was with me- thank God, and |
was happy. l talked, l laughed, l
chatted with the children their merri-
ment increased with mine; my hus-
bands pale face lighted up I felt my
own eyes sparkling. And all the while
where they saw only that empty chair,
] saw the beautiful, still face and happy
smile. I saw him pleased with the
old familiar customs. l saw him mind
full of the children's jests. / saw his
eyes full of their own home love, turn
from one to another and back again to
mel saw and was content. All that
day he was beside me. He followed us
into the sitting room and took his old
seat by the cozy fire. He listened to
his fathers stories and watched the
children at their games, and Joined us
when we gathered around the-piano
for our twilight song. l heard his
voice; the children asked what made
me sing so clearly.
Just as the shades began to fall
heavily he drew me toward him by the
frOst-bOund window. He stopped anC
kissed me. He took me in his arm.
and said, as he had said before
Did you think | should not b,
with you, mOther?"
And then | missed him. | called t.
him, but he did not answer.
stretched out my arms to him, but hC
did not come back to me. The room
+ grew dark; my head swan; tottereC
y OverTo my husband.
: "Oh, John l have lost him ~
/ " Mary-why, Mary! what is tn,
t matter" and be caught me in hi
arms.
Hooked up. l was not in the parlo
by the frost-bOund window; the chill
dren were not beside me. The sittin,
2 room fire had died down into tn,
: ashes; the door into the hall was opel
9 aud my husband had on his overcoat
: He was holding me tightly in his arms
Il thOught-oh, John! John =
And then l told him all my dream
When / had finished he was still
long time, then
" Mary, perhaps the boy has been t
: you"
At this moment the clock on tn
mantle struck r. We listened to it
strokes till the last died away.
1t is Thanksgiving morning. sal,
my husband, sOlemnly.
D When the morning really came, witt
its fresh, frollicking winds aud sunligh
and blue skies with its merry face
;. and gay voices, and the happy chi
dren rapping at my door, l thought O
what he said, " Perhaps the boy ha
been to you" Sometimes / think h
. must have been, so real and sweet
even now, the memory of his coming
All that day he stood beside me. A
that day / saw his peaceful face, an
felt the blessing of his smile, and hear
his low, sweet voice. What for month
had looked upon and feared with tn
bitterness of great dread, the face, an
A smile, and voice made almost pain
less.
The children's merry greetings di
not hurt me; my:fngers did not tren
BILE when they twined the fresh gree
leaves about the walls.
% The older children went with us
. church that morning. The lit
is church was very still and pleasant, an
5y somehow the service stole down dee
n into my heart. 1t was no eloquel
preacher that we heard only q pla