Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1886-11-23
OUR THANKSGIVING

OUR THANKSGIVING.
The morning came. 1t came as other
Thanksgiving mornings had come-with
fresh, frolicking winds and sunligbt,and
blue skies; with merry voices, with
cloudless faces and happy hearts.
remember just how yellow and murky
the sunshine lay on the floors that morn
ing, and how thought the wind walled
about the corners of the house-to me it
had no frolic. The children came in
from play while 1 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- just
as gleefully, thought, with half Bit
terness, 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 kDow-don't you STE ?
and then Lucy finished her sentence in a
whisper.
Why had 1 done it; hardly knew.
To lay the plates and set the chairs, and
pass that one plate by-thst place that
was always by mine-it seemed bard. 1t
was very little thing but you know
how dear these little things become to
women sometimes.
So l had putt there-the empty chair;
and with its pitiful, appealing blank
ness beside me, sat down to the festi+
val meal. remember just how every
thing looked, as in a picture-my hus-
bands face. with its peaceful smile, and
the children grouped around in the old
places; and feck of yellow sunlight
had fallen in through the warm south
window upon the table cloth. l remem-
ber everything, know that John had
just bowed his head to ask a blessing on
our food. and the children's eyes were
closed, when l saw saw as distinctly
as see this paper upon which write
the words--a shadow fall across the
empty chair.
1 turned my head, and l saw him, my
dead boy Willie. l know it was Willie.
You need not doubt me, for l tell you
1 cannot be mistaken. Should not l
know him, l. his mother? 1 looked
deep. deep into his eyes. 1 saw the old
rare smile; 1 touched his own bright
curls upon his forehead; spoke to him.
be spoke to me.
'Willisr
'Motherp
The voice was breathless, but it was
his
Willie! Wlllier
Again the old, rare smile. With oBe
hand be motioned silence. His fathers
voice hushed the amen, and the chill
dren looked mp and began their chatter.
Did you speak to me, MaryP asked
my husband.
NO
why, thought some one spoke du-
ring the blessing.
So they did not see him. l alone was
chosen. l looked into his face, smiling,
smiling down into mine so tenderly-
you cannot know how teDderly; but in
his eyes saw-and 1 thought my heart
would break to see it-a certain, sad, re-
proachful look. that had caught on his
face once, years ago, when l accused
him unjustly of some trihing, childish
fault "a look that had haunted me in
many a still hour since. And then l
heard him say distinctly. though to not
another ear was the breathless voice au-
dible:
4 want them to be happy. want you
to enjoy the day. Did you think 1 should
not be with you, mother2'
He was with me. thank God, and l
was happy. talked, laughed. chat
ted with the children; their merriment
increased with mine; my husbands pale
face lighted up; felt my own eyes
sparkling. And all the while, where
they saw only that empty chair, saw
the beautiful, still happy smile. saw
him pleased with the old familiar cusl
toms. l saw him mindful of the chil>
dren's jests. l saw his eyes full of their
own home love, turn from one to anOth-
er and back again to mel saw and
was content. All that day he was be-
side me- He followed US into the sit>
ting 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.
| heard his voice; the children asked
what made me sing so clearly.
Just as the shades began to fall heav-
lily he drew me toward him by the frost
bound window. He stopped and kissed
me. He took me in his arms and said.
as he had said before:
Did you think l should not be with
you, mother?
And then missed him. l called to
him. but he did not answer. l stretch
ed out my arms to him, but he did not
come back to me. The room grew dark