Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1889-11-20
From Petersons Magazine.
THE WIDOWS THANKSGIVING.

dent. Through the carelessness of a
switch-tender, a passenger-train had
jumped the track and plunged over q
high trestle-work. Twenty people were
killed at once, and at least forty in
jured. Among the latter was James Say
brook. Some had bruises and broken
bones; others were taken up insensi-
BILE, and, after lingering a few days,
died without returning to consciousness
"a merciful dispensation. The physi-
clans pronounced Mr.. Saybrook's spine
so seriously injured hat they could hold
out but slight hope of his recovery.
He was vigorous man of middle-age,
with loving wife and three children;
full of plans for career he meant to
make noble and use Jul. His reputation
was wide and lofty, his personal friends
numerous and warm; he had moder-
ate fortune and a pleasant home. " hat
more could lie offer? Yet here he
Lay, the victim Of a mans carelessness.
1t seemed to his wife that, with him,
all she cared for was fading away Her
children were about her, and she cl. NO
to her husband Tor 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 un-
aided. Now she was wearing out with
"a of strain of suspense and anxiety;
trying to keep her face calm,
and her hands steady; leaving the bed
side only when flesh and spirit could
bear the stress no longer, and to stay
would have been dangerous to her hus-
oand, and agony uncomfortable to her.
SO 1t 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
comprehend the case.
She did not see that he gained moth
ing, 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,
speeches. and unrecognizing. AS she
buried her head in the pillow beside
her dead, she longed to be dead, too.
But the children called from without.
Lite challenged her, even in her de-
SPAR. They must not enter so she rose
and went out to them. They were chill
dren-they could not even know what
death was; and their questions, their
want of grief, stung her to the quick.
enough to understand them, and for
the first time she felt fierce impa-
thence 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
anguish we have almost all of us suf-
fered in some form? What I have to
do with is Mrs. Saybrook's life after the
funeral pageant was over, the grave
green, the children taught the sorrow
by those about them, and then comfort
ed out of it into forgetfulness. But
Harriet Say brook did not forget; time
could not comfort her. She feit, day by
day, mere deeply her loss; she faith
omed its meaning; she knew it to be
past repair-in the language Of Scrip
&ure, she refused to be comforted."
Her children were careless, happy,
and in health-they had their school
and comrades; but she had few friends
IN Salem where her husband had
brought her bride.
She was not woman of broad nature.
and yet she was intense. She had
found all she wanted or needed in her
husbands affection and society-even
the children were secondary to him in
her heart; and though she had acouain-
tances in her own social sphere, and
dispensed charity as freely as her
means would allow, there was no one
now to whom she could open her heart.
and thus find relief of 1.-The grief that
speaks.
A dreary Sunday in November had
come to an end. The twilight shad-
o@s had fallen, and, after going into the
nursery, to see the children safe in bed,
she went down to the library, to spend
a solitary evening. The rain beat
fierceiy against the windows, and, in Its
gusty pauses the surf sent its thunder
ing echo on the wings of the wind, even
through the heart of the town. She
stood before the fire, in her somber
wioow' s weeds, gazing absently into the
Hickering flames. She was thinking
about the proclamation for Thanksgiv-
ing Day, that had been read from the
pulpit that morning. And smile, sad
der thai tears, crossed her lips.
Thanksgiving? ?" she mu~mured, ST
keep / thanksgiving ?" She sank into a
chair, and lost herself in a gloomy
reverie. She thought of the many
times she had kept that festival-kept it
outwardly and in spirit, for she was a
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 spread be-
fore them.
Then she was girl, coming back
from school. and her brother brought
his classmate home with him-"to
spend Thanksgiving" So she had met
her husband. Her brother was dead
Long since; and now james. A low cry
escaped her; the fire grew dull; and she
went on with her review of the past.
Then came her wedding day on Thanks
giving Day.
After that, were not all her Thanks
givings alike, jull of cheer, gratitude,
blessedness? And now
81 shall not try to keep Thanksgiy-
ing" she said dFeamily; and look ng
up, saw her husband sitting opposite
her in bis own chair, which she had
never moved from its place by the
hearth. Strangely enough, she felt
neither surprise nor lear, nor did she
remember her loss. 1t seemed SO nat
ural to see him there. that only sweet
sense of peace stole over her soul He