The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1888-11-28
THE WIDOWS THANKSCiv-
ING FESTIVAL.

iANo Hks
Dreadful indeed had been the accident
Through the carelessness Of a switch-ten-
der passenger train had jumped the
track a1d plunged over 4 high trestie-
work. Twenty people were killed at
once, and at least forty injured. Among
the latter was James Saybrook. Some had
bruises and broken bones others were
taken up insensible, and, after lingering
for few days, died without returning to
consciousness merciful dispensation.
The physicians pronounced Mr. say
brooks spine so seriously injured that
they could hold out small hopes of his re-
covery.
Hewas vigorous man of middle-age,
with lovely, loving wife and three chill
dren full of plans for career he meant
to make noble and useful. His reputation
was wide and lofty, his personal friends
numerous and warm; he had moderate
fortune and pleasant home. What
more could this life offer Yet here he
| law the helpless victim of mans care
lessness.
1t seemed to his wife then that, with
him all she cared for was fading away
Her children were about her, bat they
were young. They leaned on her, and
she had clung to her husband for help
to bear the cares and burdens of living,
| till she had grown as vine grows-weak
of stem, unable to stand alone, PROSTATE
if unaided Now she was wearing out
with a strain of suspense and anxiety !;
trying to keep her face calm and her
hands steady leaving the bedside only
when flesh and spirit could bear thestress
no longer, and to stay would have been
dangerous to her husband, and agony un-
endurable to her.
So it went on, day after day. Some
times he was better, or she thought so,
oftener he was worse. The alterations
of hope and fear tortured her, and, in
watching the minute symptoms and the
trivial details, she lost all power to COM
prehend the case.
She did not see that he was gaining
anything that no day found him stronger,
but that every week he lost something
and suffered some new pain. But the end
came, and to her, came suddenly. She
was called from her troubled sleep to find
him unconscious, to see him die, speech
less and unrecognizing. As she buried
her head in the pillow beside her dead,
she longed to be dead, too. But the chill
dren called from without. Life challeng-
ed her, even in her despair. They must
not enter, 50 she rose and went out to
them. They were children-they could
not even know what death was and
their questions, their want of grief stung
her 10 the quick. She was not generous
or sympathetic enough to understand
them, and for the first time she felt
fierce impotence of their presence, and
sent them away to the nursery Then
she was quite alone, and began to realize
it,
But why should describe the dire an
guish We have almost all Of Us suffered in
some form What have to do with is
Mrs. Saybrook's life after the funeral pa
geant was over, the grave green, the chill
dren taught their sorrow by those about
them, and then comforied into forgetful-
ness. But Harriet saybrook did not for
get time could not comfort her. She felt,
day by day, more deeply her loss she
fathemed its meaning she knew it to be
past repair-in the language of Scripture,
she mourned, and refused to be COM
forted."
Her children were careless, happy. and
in healih-they had their school and
comrades but she had made few friends
in Salem, where her husband brought her
a bride
She was not woman of broad nature,
and yet she was intense. She had found
all she wanted or needed in her hus-
bands affection and society-even the
children were secondary to hi.a N her
heart and, though she had acquaintan-
ces in her social sphere, and dispensed
charity as freely as her means would al
low, there was no one now to whom she
could open her heart, and thus find the
relief of the grief that speaks"
A dreary Sunday in November had
come to an end. The twilight shadows
had fallen, and, after going into the nur-
sery to see the children safe in bed, she
went down to the library, to spend soli-
tary evening. The rain beat fercely
against the windows, and, in its gusty
pauses, the surf sent its laundering echo
on the wings of the wind, even through
the heart Of the town. She stood before
the FIRE, in her sombre widows weeds
gazing absently into the Pickering flames
She was thinking about the proclamation
for Thanksgiving Day, that had been read
from the pulpit that morning. And
smile, sadder than tears. crossed her
lips.
Thanksgiving she murmured. :" /
keep Thanks living ?
She sank into chair, and lost herself
in gloomy reverie. She thought of the
many timesshe had kept that festival
kept it outwardly and in spirit, for she
was good woman, and had meant to
be grateful one, till three months ago.
She remembered her childhood. How
long the years seemed then how she
looked forward to the gathering of aunts
and uncles and cousins, in the old red
farmhouse and what wonderful viands
grandmother always used to spread be-
fore them.
Then she was girl, coming back from
school, and her brother brought his class
mate home with him" tospend Thanks
giving"
So she had met her husband. Her
brother was dead long since and now
James. low cry escaped her; the fire
grew dull, and she went on with her re-
view cf the past. TheE came her we'd
ding on Thanksgiving Day.
After that were not all her Thanksgiv-
ings aIike-fuil Of cheer, gratitude, bless
edness? And now
Il shall not try to keep Thanksgiving
she said, dreamily and looking up, saw
her husband sitting ouposite her in his