The times and democrat. [volume] (Orangeburg, S.C.) 1881-current, 1886-11-25
OUR THANKSGIVING.

Thanksgiving mornings had come - with
fresh, frolicl;ing winds and sunlight, and
~ blue skies; with merry voices, with cloudless
faces and happy hearts.
remember just how yellow and murky
the sunshine lay on tho floors that morning,
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
I was at work, all flushed and eager, and
happy, icstling and pushing each other good
naturedly in the entry.
Dinner time came at last and they gathered
round the table gloefully-just as gleefully, L
thought with half bitterness, rs if they
had all been there.
sWhy, what's this for" asked Harry,
stopping Mother, you've got one chair too
many
GHush, Harry-I know-don't you see?"
and then Lucy finished her sentence in q
whisper.
WHY had l done it; hardly knew. 70
lay the plates and set the chairs, and pass
that one plate by-that place that always
was l,y nline-it seemed hard. 1t was a very
little thing; but you know how dear these
little things become to women sometimes.
So had put it there-the empty chair;
and with its pitful appealing blankness be-
side me, sat down to the festival meal. l
remember just how everything looked, as i'll
a picturc-n,y husbands face, with its peace
full smile. and the children grouped around in
the Old places; and u tleck of yellow sunlight
that had fallen in through the warm south
window upon the table cloth. / remember
everything l know that John had just
bowed his head to ask Il blessing on our food,
and the cl,ldren's eyes were closed, when l
saw saw as distinctly as I see this paper
upon which l write the words-a shadow full
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 mis-
taken Should not I know him, I, his
mother: looked deep, deep into his eyes.
saw the old, rare smile; touched his own
bright curls upon his forehead; spoke to
him; he spoke to me.
"Willie!r
"Mother!'
The voice was breathless, but it was his.
"Willie! Willie"
Again the old, rare smile. With one hand
hemotionetl silence. His fathers voice hushed
the amen, and the children looked up and
began their chattor.
SDid you speak to me, MaryF' asked my
husband.
"Nor
"Ehy, l thought some one spoke during
the blessing"
So they did not see him. / alone was
chosen. looked into his face, smiling, slnil-
ing dortn into mine SC tendcrly-you cannot
know how tcnGerly; but in his eyes saw
and thought my heart would break to see
it-a certain, sad, rcproachful look, that 1
had caught cn his face once, years ago, when
I accused him of injustice of some trifing,
childish fau!t-a look that had haunted me
in many still hour since. And then heard
him say distinctly. though to not another
ear was the brcuthli.&> voice audible:
II want them to lr 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. talked, laughed, chatted with
the children; their mcrrimcnt increased with
mine: my husbands pale face lighted up;
felt my own eyes sparkling And all tho
while, where they saw only that empty chair,
! saw the beautiful, still face and happy
smile. | saw him pleased with the old fa-
milinr customs. l saw him mindful Of the
children's jests. l saw his eyes full of their
OWE home love, turn from one to another
and back again to me-I saw and was coll
tent al that day he was beside me- He
followed Us into the sitting room and took his
old seat hy 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. 1
heard his voice; the children asked what
made me sing SO clearly.