Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1891-01-02

| and comrades; but she had made lew
friends in Salem, where her husband
had brought her n bride.
She was not women of broad
nature, and yet she was intense. She
had found all she wanted or needed
in her husband s affection and society
even the children were secondary,
to him in her heart; and though she
had acquaintance in her own social
sphere, and dispcnded C harity as free
ly as her means would allow, there
was no one now to whom she could
open her heart, and thus find relief
OF "the grief that speaks"
A dreary Sunday in November had
come to an end. The twilight shade
ows had fallen, and, after going into
the nursery, to see the children SAT-
in bed, she went down to the library,
to spend a solitary evening. The
rain beat fiercely against the win
dows. and, in it's gusty pauses, the surf
sent it's laundering echo on the wings
OF the wind, even through the hear
of the town. She stood before the fire,
in her sombre widows weeds, gazing
nbsently into the Pickering flames.
She WAS thinking about the proca-
nation for Thanksgiving Day, that
had been read IRON hepulpit that
morning. And smile, sadder than
tears, crossed her lips. "Thanksgiv-
ingl" she murmured, keep Thanks.
giving?' She sank into n chair, and
lost herself in n gloomy reverie. She
thought of the many times she had
kept that festival-kept it outward
| ly and in spirit, for she was good
woman, and had meant to be n
grateful one, Till three months ago.
She remembered her childhood. How
long the years seemed then; how she
looaed forward to the gathering oi
aunts and unclss and cousins, in the
old red farmhouse; and what Won
derful viands grandmother always
spread before them.
Then she was u 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 re
view of the past. Then came hel
wedding on Thanksgiving Day.
After that, were not all her Thanks
givings alike full OF cheer, gratitude
blessedness? And now
81 shall not try to keep Thanks
, giving" she said dreamily; and look
ing up, saw her husband sitting Oppo
site her in his own chair, which she
had never moved from it's place by
the hearth. Strangely enough, she
felt neither surprise nor fear, nor die
she remember her loss. 1t seemed sc
natural to see him there, that only O
sweet sense of peace stole over hel
soul. He looked at her with tender
gravity, and very clearly and slowly
repeated a favorte quotation Of his
"Thou seest we are not all alone un
happy" adding, "there arc othel
widows besides you, Hattie"
Other widows? What did he mean
A brand fell, blazed up, and went out
. She started up and looked eagerly
about. The chair opposite hers was
empty. The clock on the mantle
struck nine. 1t had marked the half
hour, she remembered, just as the
first brands iell together. 1t haC
, been dream, then. She shiveret
, and came back to reality, lighted thu
lamp, fed the dying fire, and return
ed to her new grief. New, because
that face had been so real, her glad
ness so deep, and now it was
lost once more, with IL fresh be
reavement. But though the tears
tell hopelessly and fast rom her eyes
and her heart ached anew with re
bellious anguish, still his words kept
recurring to her. She had not
thought OF that before. There were
other widows, no doubt-others sor
, rowing with her sorrow, in kind, j
not in degree. She remembered sew
eraI whom she had visited in heI
charitable rounds, and was startled
to remember how she had passed
their sorrows by without any rea
sympathy. A sense of companion
ship stole upon her, as il suddenly
wrecked on some desert shore, sh,
had met with beings OF her own race
, after long, lonely weeks OF silenc
and despair.
. Then the thought flashed across
, her that these women must d;eaI
the recurrence Of Thanksgiving, jus
MS she did. Why could she not asl
them all to keep the day with her?
She fell asleep thinking the matte
over, and awoke in the morning witt
.. n sbame-faced sense of some ligh
and interest creeping into her life
, hitherto 80 sacrrdly wretched. TheI
she remembered her dream-he
husbands sad, grave face. Perhap
I she had done wrong III mourning
: him SD devotedly that even he
children had been set asidefrom thei
a place. Possibly il would please hin
> better il she carried out her plan.
When IN rning's duties were fulfill
ed, she sat down again by the fire
. not to dream now, but To plan 70
. action. But whom should she invite
For she began to see that Mrs
y Broome, who lived in the fourtl
r story of tenement-house. and earn
, ed a precarious living, would hardl,