St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1891-11-26
RUTHS THANKSGIVING.
Deacon Carey Seeks a Wife an
Finds a Dau&hter-in-La

Deacon Carey Seeks a Wife and
Finds Il Daughter-in-La Law.
"You see lust how we're fixed" said
Deacon Obed Carey to Mrs. Elan Skin
uer.
The gray November twilight was clos
ing, like the misty shadows of dream,
over the des0late valley that lay be-
tween the rOck-crested HILLS, friuged
with hemlOcks and white pines, while
the gray-green foliage of cedar copses
gave ghostlv simmer 10 the distance.
Just at the mouth of the valley the mir
rOr-like CLEAN of Lake Champlain re-
flected the dull armament. and beyond
the peaks of far-Otf mountains lost their
outlines in the low-hanging vapOrs Of
the sky-the AdirOndack5 themselves!
But Deacon Carey, who had been
cradled. as it were. among their gran
deurs. never thought of the Adrondacks,
except as a very Improbable invest
ment Of land. Familiarity breeds con-
tempt. and even the Colossus of Rhodes
ceases to inspire awe to their next-dOOr
neighbOr.
Folks come a dreadful ways to look
at them hills" sand the deacon, irrev-
crently; and, arter ali. they amt no
great shakes. Give me a good medder
lot. or field where the WALLER pumpkins
is a-shnin' out among the shocked corn!
That's my notion of beauty. Guess it
would be a pretty long While afore any
body raises Il crop o rye out o. the
AdirOndacks."
And, after all. there was an linking
OF common sense in the deacOn's view
Of things.
Mrs. Eiam Skinner lived in brown
farmhouse. whose overhanging caves
made You think of 4 boy VINO has pulled
his cap too far over his eyes-a farm
house upon whose shingled roof the
gold and scarlet maple leaves rained
down in rustling drifts at every sOugh
of the melancholy wind. There were
not two such maple trees along the
whole shores of Champlain as those
Mrs. SINNERS grandfather had planted
in the Revolutionary days, when he
never knew, coming home at night with
his axe over his shoulder, whether he
should not find his home heap of
smouldermg ciuders. with the cry
OF the savage redskin where his babies
cooling voices had sounded at the morn
ing-tide He was in his grave. dust ana
ashes, long ago, but the naples renewed
their youth with every year.
Within YOU saw a lOw-ceiled room, with
cOorpd prints hanging on the wall. a
mist of asparagus over the clock shell,
and white and yellow chrySanthemums
blossoming between the net-fringed
curtains of the three little windows. a
rag carpet. woven in dazzling stripes OF
red and blue. covered the floor. while
the bricks OF the clean-SWept hearth
could not have glOwed brighter II they
had been carved in NeapOlitan coral.
and a fire or splendid chestnut logs
blaZed and cracked, wreathing the pol
ished brass fire-dogs as il they had been
a pair Of John Rogers at the stake. SUI
fering continual martyrdom. Mrs.
Skinner herself. q why, compact little
woman. in a green glngh2m dress and
Winking spectacleS. sat darnlng stock
ings by the blaze; for she was thrifty
dame. and while she begrudged the
wasted moments of twilight. she had
no idea Of lighting a candle until 1t was
fairly and SGuarely dark.
Obed Carey occupied the cushioned
rocker opposite. tail and brown and
lOose-iOinted, with here and there a sill
yer thread in his dark hair, and hands
where the veins stood out like cord. a
Woodworking man, and a man who ac-
ceDted his inheritance OF toll with a
sort Of grim satisfaction, he would have
afforded no inappropriate type Of the
New England farmer Of the past gener-
alton. as he sat there. erect and thin
and uncOmpr0mising.
And while her elders talked. Ruth
Skinner sat close against the chimney
jamb. a tin pan full of apples in her lap,
pairing diligently away. with the fire
light gllnting on her sunny brown hair.
Ruth was small and dimpled ana eX-
quiSitely fresh. like the rosy peach
which hangs on the south wall after the
first frostS, and she had violet gray
eyes, darkening into blue around the
edge Of the rides. and dewy. scarlet lips.
and a slender throat clrcled with a
string of red wood berries. and as she
worked there was an unconscious grace
in her motions that made you like TO
look at her
Yes. " said Mrs Elam Skinner, an
sWering the deacOn's remark; Il see. 1t
was adTeadful unfortunate dispensatlOn
that Mrs Carey should be taken away"
-Four wears agO this very month, "
said the deacon, meditauveiy; -four
yearS-agO. \ hOusetul of boys IS a
tryin' thing. Mrs. Skinner.
Il should think it must be- said the
widow.
And it's a remarkable orderin' of
/ Providence that l should have six boys
/ and YOU six gals"
Yes" said Mrs. Skinner. breaking
/ off 4 needleful of gray yarn: but my
I gals has all done well. Maiiudy, she's
married, and lives in Burlington, and
/ SOphrony is teachin' school 'eUOss the
/ lake, aud Sarah's at the factories in
! Lowell. and Althea's lived to Squire
! Halls these two years, and Kate's dom
| well at the millinery business. and Ruth,
she kind o makes herself generally use
ful to hum. Ruth amt like the others
| she Amt good for much"
The deacon hitched his chair with q
grating noise across the hearth. to get q
better view at the little figure bending
over the pan of apples.
''She'S good to look pretty, anyhow, y
he said, with cumbrous attempt at 6
| joke.
"Humphu' said Mrs. Skinner, whose
! respect tor the merely ornamental was
extremely limited.
Il s'pose Sarah and SOphrony's com
in home TO Thanksgiving" haZarded
Mr.. Carey.
Mrs. Skinner nodded briefly.
NV all, that's sort o. proyidentiaI, too, y
said the deacon, somewhat embarrassed