The Sunday morning news., 1891-11-22

guest, lifted the American flag, treasure
! always carried with me in foreign lands,
and with which | had draped the table,
and with wish of good will for our dear
ones on the "other side,7 we began the
feast. At first all went promising. The
soup was passable; the fish, sole think,
was served with shrimp sauce; the pota-
toes, cauliflower and boiled onions were
good Then appeared the mysterious eov-
cred dish, at which Arty glanced askance.
/ proceeded to uncover IT, Hold on a
moment, Harriet he said, tits beans
this is solemn and to be drunk standing
hereby I toast our American Republic, ;
long may she waveP' AS a response to
the toast, with flourish I removed the
cover of the aforesaid dish and-whats
pork and beansi Yes, but the pork was
floating round aud round in the dish, com
placent In about quart of hot grease as a
few lonely beans manfully struggled to
hide under til Forlorn hopes Of my antic-
ipations boiled down in fail dared not
look at Arty 1t was serious moment;
words were inadequate, and as silence pre-
vailed poor Arty hugged the decanter
which stood beside his plate. Yet did
not utterly despair.
The national dish was summarily re-
moved and uncovered the tomatoes
fArty's favorite). Lo and behold to my
discontinue the red beauties, instead of
being stewed and rhickened with bread
crumbs, had been boiled with skins on
whole, like potatoes, and there they were,
slumped down in quivering heaps, half
drowned in water was homesick. There
were no remarks, yet threatening hush
ensued--I was thinking of the pumpkin
pie and the possibilities of its failure. Soon
it appeared, fianled by the regulation
crackers and cheese. To my dismay /
noticed it had an upper crust, and, think
ing the maid had stupidity made mistake,
l said to her, Bring the American pien
'sThere it is, marm,p she answered with
look of offended dignity. / had not the
courage to look at Arty as in my despera-
ton stabbed the crust aud sawed through
the pie In curiosity lifted bit of the
crust, and to be sure there was the pump
kin, cut in slices, sugared and cinnamoned,
blanketed and steam smothered between
two crustsl What an Nhding of my
Thanksgiving dinnerl Chagrined and dis
consulate, turned my face to the window
and unused on the ugly London fog. Arty
walked up and down the room waving the
American flag as he screamed: "Hurrah
for the great American doodlei wish my
dear old Yankee mother could have seen
this Thanksgiving dinner then, seriously
TO me, Harriet, you might have been born
smart, but you've lost it.a To this my
husband answered not word.
We were compelled to go ''outsiden and
take an English dinner that day. AS we
were leaving the room poor Arty reversed
my flag, union down, and hung it above
the dish of beans still standing on the
'swall'' table. With this sisp of distress
ended our American dinner Snst day.
eve will go to the Princess theater to-
night" said dsArty; "a black and tan darky
barber from Philadelphia will play Othello;
it will be funny and I'll write it up for
Punch.u On our way to the theater, as we
drove through the Haymarket, Arty, in
spirit of fun, would occasionally take off
his hat bowling to the people, a la the con
quering hero" 1t is well enough to add
that it was night and we were unobserved.
AS we left the carriage, near the door of
the theater, an imported organ grinder"
--as Arty expressed it--with vicious look
ing monkey, was grinding out "Home,
Sweet Home" At the sound of this plain
tive tune, that is the same everywhere,
there were signs of tears in Arty's eyes, and
/ noticed the gleam Of gold piece as he
put his hand in the organ grinders hat.
Alasi it was our farewell Thanksgiving
Our beloved cousin, the genial, kind
hearted ''Arty," died few months after
ward.
HARRIET MAxwELL-CoNvERsE.