Daily tobacco leaf-chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1890-1895, 1891-11-26
A GLAD THANKSGIVING.

She was pretty woman, In fact she
had just stopped short Of being beauti-
full, Looking at her in her shabby gown
and unbeautiful surroundings one could
not help wondering how she would look
dressed rs handsomely as the woman
who lived across the way from her-the
woman who never succeeded in looking
any way but ordinary and common
place, in spite of all the helpful acces-
sories of the toilet,
She remembered; she could call up
very bright pictures of herself in the
days when pretty gowns and dainty
laces We're her portion.
Now she was only dressmaker. Only
| say, as if in these days of high art in
dress that were not enough, but, then,
she had not grown up in it, and she lived
IN country town, far from the centers
of art and fashion
1t was only after her unhappy mar
riage that she had taken stitch for
anybody Then, being driven to do
something to provide bread and butter
for herself and her one child, dear little
Ned, she turned to this She had taste,
good eye for form and color, and what
the Yankees call faculty. She was reso-
lutte and strong and patient, as well as
kindly and sweet OF temper. so with the
help Of ladies books" and cut paper
| ha, H. bA
ceeded in attaining proficiency that
answered all the demands of the dwell
ers of Kingsley.
She had just finished gown, and it
was to be sent home that night--the
night before Thanksgiving The room
seemed more than usually disordered
and as she tied the package, which she
was to take home in the evening. it
seemed to her, so tired was she, as
though she never could bring order out
of the confusion She felt sure for a
moment that she really could not make
any attempt at thanksgiving
She had promised Ned that there should
at least be Il chicken pie He did not In
sist upon turkey or oysters but he had
very decided opinions as to the qualities
of the chicken pies that his mother made
All this afternoon he had been teasing
her with childish, unthinking persistence
to leave the window where she sat and
come over to his window These two
windows were in different ends of the
room and represented two different states
and conditions of being One looked
out on little yard green with grass and
gay with climbing rose in summer
weather By this window stood a rock
ing chair, and near by table with big
photograph album, a few books and a
pretty shaded lamp. There was a well
worn but clean, cheerful looking ingram
carpet on this end of the long room, a
comfortable lounge with number of
gayly covered pillows upon it. There
were Ned's little chair, the bird cage
and two or three pictures--not very
choice ones, but they gave pleasure and
that is more than many choice ones do.
There are fans tackled up against the wall
and a stuffed owl on a shelf, likewise a
set of swinging shelves also filed with
books Not much time had she for read
ing but there was an ON minute now
and then, and Ruth Gray was woman
who made use of the odd minutes.
The other end of the room, and the one
wherein Ruth spent most of her time,
was the business end. Here were the
sewing machine, the kitchen table, the
few common chairs, the rag carpet and
the wonderful brand new coal stove
that was both parlor and cooking stove
in one--a recent acquisition and one they
had not yet ceased admiring. 1t would
do most remarkable things in the way Of
cooking. 1t possessed hidden and mar
velous resources, and above its adapta-
tion to the needs of housekeeping it had
a most dignihed and ut the same time
cheerful exterior 1t was great de-
light So one end Of the humble room
meant work-steady, hard, nerve trying
work: the other meant rest and relaXa-
ton, or, as Ned said "a good time No
wonder that he liked to get his mother
over the line that divided these two sec
tons
On this special day he had been par
ticularly trying" He seemed to de-
velop new and alarming faculty in de-
vising cunning mischiefs, but he had
finally exhausted himself. When Ruth
turned from one kind of work to begin
the process of picking up and arranging
the fragment strewn room, she found
the restless little fellow curled up in a
little heap on the braided rug before the
stove, where, with the long suffering
kitty in close embrace, he had fallen
asleep. Tenderly she raised him and
kissed the rosy cheek and sunny, curly
hair. Yes, she had something to give
thanks for Out Of her sea Of sorrow
she had saved this pearl
She didn't like holidays, and above all
she had an uncouquerable aversion to
Thanksgiving day Not from ingr;rti-
tude for she was a deyuut and thankful