Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1889-11-29

on run to tell her mother the gooC
news!
OF course | cheered them with fairy
tales of what a wonderful big turkey
we would have on Thanksgiving. \
| gobbler Of tremendous size, who haC
strutted when alive like prince il
the story books. Then followed a de
scription of the cranberry sauce anC
the huge wedges of mince pie. AL
this took place while was carrying
two of the children in my arms and
the other was hanging on to my coat
at my side | hope shall be forgiven
for those lies. For they were lies OF
the blacklist sort. | knew there was
not one chance in a thousand that we
would have u turkey on Thanksgiving
Day. But | think under the circum-
stances that an angel Of light would
have departed from the truth to see
their faces light up with anticipation,
to see the cheeks flush and the white
teeth bare themselves n though cut
ting the tender meat from turkey
leg.
But the hardest sight for me TO bear
was the look Nellie gave Inc. Just
one quick glance into my face and she
knew all the sorrowful tale. 1t was
not necessary to tell her how | had
tramped the streets OF the big city all
day how faint / had become from
hunger; how | was raging at heart
like Gagged lion; how in my despair
l cursed the rich and hated humanity.
Not for myself, but for the hungry
babies and their mother.
Never o word OF complaint from
Nellie. Only encouragement and
hope.
Then came the oatmeal alone. For
the molasses was all gone. / don't
eat oatmeal now. The taste of it is
insufferable to me. My palate rises
in rebellion against it. have heard
of the man who ate thirty quail in
thirty days. | wonder whether he
ever tried oatmeal for thirty daysf
On the morning before Thanksgiv-
ing was fairly crazy with grief and
anticipation. Nellie and l had con
sultation the night before, and she
suggested that should write piece
of poetry about the Thanksgiving
turkey.
The idea pleased Inc. 1t was a re-
lief certainly from the brooding over
the morrow. got book Of poems
from my little store, which had so far
escaped the pawn-shop, and hunted
up a metre after which | copied, for
of course l knew nothing about metre
or poetical feet.
Meanwhile Nellie sat there mending
the clothing of her babies, and the
tears fell thick and fast upon the gar
ments. l couldn't stand it, SO jump
ed up and went out into the street to
walk off the effect those childish
voices had upon Inc. When | came
back, thank Heaven, they were
asleep, folded in each others arms.
Then l got to work on my poem. 1t
took me one hour and a-half to write
the first verse. ! became discouraged
before / had written two lines, and
would have given up but for Nellie's
"Now, what's the use, Nell just
listen to this stuff" said |, reading the
stanZa
The turkey roosteth high tonight
He's hid in the hemlock tree;
In fancy see his plumage bright,
But he gobbles not for me.
why, think it's real nice. ] didn't
know you could write as well as that.
It's splendid write another stanza."
But don't you see, Nell, that it
isn't trueH The turkey doesn't gobble
at night"
"Oh, we'll, that doesn't make any
difference. The poets always have
license, you know. Besides, how ma
ny persons will know that he doesn't
gobble at night? Not one in n hun
dred."
"Fm afraid it's no good and that it
won't go with the editor. Anyhow,
I'll try few lines more"
The little clock ticked monot-
onously on the mantel The fire
burned low, and Nellie put a shawl
over her shoulders, for the room was
growing cold. But the chill air did
not affect me. was giving birth TO
a poem. The second stanza came
easier. What bothered me most
was the rhyme. / think, TO the best
Of nv recollection, that the second
instalment consumed half hour Of
intense thought. was better salts
fed than with the first stanza, be-
cause Il kueN IL wac u NcIs lACEC ~ 40
lust as read it to Nellie:
His comb is as red as ruddy wine,
His breast is a shining sheen:
But his carcass is safe from me and mine
wecan't pick his wishbone clean.
The muse was rather skittish at the
third stanza. / coaxed her with a
pipe of tobacco, the fumes OF which
made Nellie cough, and / persuaded
her to go to bed The clock struck
II. The wind ratified the window
frame and began to think that
poets earned their money. almost
fell asleep over this stanza- While
laboriousIy constructing it there
came a picture to me of the old farm
house in the Catskills, the table
groaning with its weight OF good
things. 1t occurred to me Just here