The weekly sentinel. [volume] (Winston-Salem, N.C.) 1886-1887, 1886-11-25
OUR THANKSGIVING.

The morning came. 1t came as other
Thanksgiving mornings had come = with
fresh, frolicking winds anG sunlight, and
blue skies; with nler1.5- voices, with cloudless
faces and happy hearts
remember Just how yellow ana murky
the sunshine lay the floors that morning,
and how l thought the wind walled about
the corners of the house-to me it had
frolic. The children came in from play while
1 was at work, all flushed and eager, and
happy, jostling and pushing each other good
naturally in the entry.
Dinner time came at last and they gathered
round the table gleefully-just as gleefully, 1
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-I know-don't you seer
and then Lucy finished her sentence in a
whisper.
: Why had | done it; | hardly knew. To
lay the plates and set the chairs, and pass
that one plate by-that place that always
was by mine-it seemed hard. 1t was very
little thing; but you know how dear these
little things become to women sometimes.
So had put 1t there-the empty chair;
and with its pitiful, appealing darkness be-
side me, sat down to the festival meal l
remember just how everything looked, as in
q picture-my husbands face, with its peace
full SMILE and the children grouped around in
the old places; and fieck of yellow sunlight
that had fallen in through the warm south
window upon the table cloth [ remember
everything. I know that John had just
bowed his head to ask a blessing on cur food,
and the children's eyes We're closed, when 1
saw saw distinctly as l this paper
upon which 1 write the words-a shadow fall
across the empty chair.
l turned my head, and saw him, my dead
boy Willie. l know it was Willie. You need
not doubt me, for l tell you I cannot be mis-
taken Should not 1 know him, L, his
mother! l looked deep, deep into his eyes. l
saw the old, rare smile; 1 touched his own
bright curls upon his forehead; l spoke to
him; he spoke to me.
"Willie!"
sMother!"
The voice was breathless, but 1t was his.
willie! Willie!"
Again the old, rare smile With one hand
hemotioned silence. His fathers voice hushed
the amen, and the children looked up and
began their chatter.
did you speak to me, Mary2n asked my
husband.
mo-
"Why, thought some one spoke during
the blessing"
So they did not see him. 1 alone was
chosen. l looked into his face smiling, smil-
ing down into mine so tenderly-you cannot
know how tenderly; but in his eyes 1 saw
and thought my heart would break to see
ia certain, sad, reproachful look, that I
had caught on his face once, years ago, when
I accused him of injustice Of some trihing,
childish fault-a look that had haunted me
in many a still hour since. And then heard
hin say distinctly. though to not another
ear the breathless voice audible:
Il want them to be happy. want you to
enjoy the day Did you think 1 should not
be with you, mother!"
He with me- thank God, and I was
happy. l talked, laughed, chatted with
the children; their merriment increased with
mine; my husbands pale face lighted UP;
felt my eyes sparkling. And all the
while, where they saw only that empty chair,
saw the beautiful, still face and happy
smile. l saw him pleased with the old ia
miliar customs. I saw him mindful Of the
ehildren's jests / saw his eyes full of their
own home love, turn from one to another
and back again to me-I saw and was con-
tent. All that day he was beside me. He
followed us into the sitting room and took his
old seat by the coy 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.
heard his voice; the children asked what
made me sing SO clearly.