The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1888-11-28
Johns Thanksgiving.

y
grows on trees in the back lot" This
last was too ridiculous topass unnoticed
mo, John, don't, but | do think
we could afford to send Widow Harri-
son sack of potatoes for Thanksgiv-
ing, and the preacher couple of chick
ems, and have a Thanksgiving, dinner
wife with some spirit.
You women think we men are
made of money. For my part, never
could see any sense in making fuss
over Thanksgiving, or Christmas, and
the like. Turkeys as good to me one
day as another. Wish we raised them.
Besides, I've nothing particular to be
thankful for. Dear knows I've worked
hard enough for all I've got" and with
this John buried himself in his paper
which meant, Bother me at your
peril"
Mrs. Roberts sighed as she took up
Johns mending. She was thinking of
the winter before their marriage. John
never refused her anything then, nor
after, till in the hard race to be sue
cessful man, he had learned to prize
his hard-earned dollars more than his
wife's comfort or the needs of those
around him. "I'm saving it all for
Carrie and the children" was his ex-
cuse, and she excused him in her own
heart by thinking, He's good, true
man. suppose every man has queer
streak that's hard to get along with;
I'll keep praying over it," So, as most
wives are compelled to do, she loved,
but did not admire, her husband, as
she might have done.
While she was thinking this over,
something reused John from his politi-
cal editorial IN which he had plunged.
He looked around. Carrie had gone,
and the baby in its cradle by her side.
He found himself in village street,
where everything had a most unnatural
appearance. An old woman, evidently
dying, lay on the filthy pavement. A
forsaken baby was crying near. Fumes
of liquor, mingled with horrid oaths,
came from an open door near He
noticed a feeble-looking man pass by;
another leaped from dark corner and
plunged dagger into his breast,
snatched his victims money, then left
him dying in the street.
"What kind of place is this?"
John cried. Have | struck the infer
nal regions? In Gods name, help this
dying manW
" Sir" said a hard-faced fellow near,
" that name must not be mentioned
except in a curse. This is a country
that does not admit God or his laws.
We can be as wicked as we please"
How thankful / would be, to be in
my own country again, where we are
protected by Gods laws" cried John.
In moment Carries patient face
and the rosy little sleeper beside her
were in view. In another instant they
had vanished. The room became long
and narrow, with rows of little white
beds on each side. The strangest
thing of all was, John found himself
prisoner in one of them. The air was
heavy with chloroform, and John no.
ticed a sense of exquisite pain through
his body. Near by stood a group of
grave-looking men, talking to a kind
faced woman who, though she bathed his
face with water, with a gentle, eX-
perienced touch, was not his own dear
Carrie.
Where am I?n he moaned
Be quiet" answered the eldest
man. You have met with an acct
dent, so to save your life we have taken
off one of your limbs. If you are pa
tient and mind this good woman, you
will some day go home to your wife
and little ones as good as new, except
the crutches."
Go back to Carrie and the children as
miserable cripple! He felt hot tears
scalding his face as he groaned, " How
thankful l would be if / were only on
my legs again."
The narrow walls faded, the room
took on the form and cooring of his
own coy sitting-room. He felt the
warmth of his own glowing CRATE. He
stretched out his limbs with delicious
sense of their perfect strength. Yet
before he could speak to make sure this
was the reality and the other dream
the walls contracted to those of rude
cabin on his farm. The children were
crying, his wife looking thin and pale.
"There is nothing to eat, she said to
the children. "You remember there
were no crops raised this year. We
have only what the people in the East
send u.s."
"But why are we not in our own
house, Carrier" asked John.
"You forget, dear, we were burned
to the ground that night caught thi;
terrible cold"
what" cried John; "no home, NJ
clothes, nothing to eatl How thankful
/ would be If we were back in the ole
home, with everything stored in TO
this winter!"
AS he spoke, the rude walls of thu
cabin widened, and the empty Fireplace
took on a ruddy glow. He must hav'
been dreaming again, for there sat Car
RE in her low rocker, her foot upon thu
cradle, and it was the same pretty hom
they had toiled so hard to get. Tn
same room, but what was the matter
Carries chair was empty, no one wa
singing the baby to sleep. Before him
in rosewood casket, very peaceful an
beautiful, Carrie lay asleep. He calle
her name. The waXen lids hid he
dark eyes, 30 responsive to his slightes
word of love, forever from his sight. ii