The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1886-11-25
OUR THANKSGIVING

he morning came. IL came as other
Thanksgiving mornings had come = with
resh, froliclling winds and sunlight, and
1lue skies; with merry voices, with cloudless
faces and happy hearts.
remember just how yellow and murly
The sunshine lay on the floors that morning,
md how thought the wind walled about
the corners Of the house-to me it had no
trolic. The children came in from play while
was at work, all flushed and eager, and
happy, iostling and pushing each other good
uaturedly in the entry.
Dinner time came at last and they gathered
round the table gleefully-iust as Cleefully, 1
bought, with a half bitterness, as if they
had all been there.
"Why, what's this forF asked Harry,
topping. "Mother, you've got one chair too
many.
"Hush, HaI1y-I knOw-don't you see?D
and then Lucy finished her sentence in a
t.hisper
Why had I done it; hardly knew To
lay the plates and set the chairs, and pass
hat one plate by-that place that always
vas by nine-it seemed hard. It was a very
III tile thing; but you know how dear these
little things become to women sometimes
So had put it there-thc empty chair;
md with its pitiful, appealing blanlness be
SIDE me, sat down TO the festival meal
remember just how everything looked, as in
picture-my husbands face, with its peace
Il smile, and the children grouped around in
The old places; and fleck of yellow sunlight
nat had fallen in through the warm south
window upon the table cloth 1 remember
everything L know that John had just
bowed his head to ask a blessing on our food,
and the children's eyes were closed, when |
saw-I saw as distinctly as 1 see this paper
upon which write the words-a shadow fall
across the empty chair.
l turned my head, and l saw him, my dead
boy Willie. l know it was Willie. You need
not doubt me, for 1 tell you / cannot be mis-
taken. Should not I know him, l. his
luother7 looked deep, deep into his eyes 1
snw the old, rare smile; 1 touched his own
bright curls upon his forehead; L spoke to
him; he spoke to me.
@WilHe!"
"Motherl7
The voice was breathless, but il was his.
"Wiliel WillieI"
Again the old, rare smile. With one hand
hemotioned silence His fathers voice bushed
the amen, and the children looked up and
began their chatter.
4Did you speak to me, Mary'" asked my
husband.
"No."
@Why, thought some one spoke during
the blessing"
So they did not see him. / alone was
chosen. 1 looked into his face, smiling, smil-
ing down into mine so tenderiy-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 1
lad caught on his face once, years ago, when
j accused him of injustice of some trifing,
childish fault-a look that had haunted me
n many a still hour since And then heard
hin say distinctly. though to not another
q, lr was the breathless voice audible:
Il want them to be happy. I want you to
enjoy the day. Did you think 1 should not
be with you, mOthers"
He was with me, thank God, and I was
happy. l talked, 1 laughed 1 chatted with
The children; their merTiment increased with
mine; my husbands pale face lighted up; 1
f1lt my own eyes sparkling. And all the
'7hile, where they saw only that empty chair,
7 saw the beautiful, still face and happy
slnile. 1 saw him pleased with the old IA
lniliar customs. l saw him mindful OF the |
childTen's jests. l saw his eyes full of their |
own home love, turn from one to another |
and back again to mel saw and l 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 !
9thers stories and watched the children at |
their games, and joined us when we gathered |
round the piano for our twilight song. 1 |
leard his voice; the children asked what /
made me sing so clearly.