Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1892-11-24
A SAD THANKSGIVING.

-
It was a brief message that the smart
looking telegraph boy delivered at the
coy house on Cleveland avenue. but 1t
was freighted with a world of happiness
for little Mrs. Harris, to whom it was
addressed:
LIVERPOOL. Nov. 14.-Home Thanks
giving. WILL.
Mrs. Harris read and reread the pre-
ciOus line.
Dear Will, how thoughtful of him to
cablel And it is nearly two weeks ear
lier than he expected to get through.
See, Dorothy, papa is coming back to us
again.
Dorothy dropped her dolly and pat
tered across the floor to her mothers
side.
1Papoo, dee?" she lisped.
Yes, honey, papa dear is coming
home. Won't he be surprised to see
how big you have grown, and what
good girl you are, and how many new
words you can say? He will be prouder
than ever of his little girl.
~Uh-huh," asserted Dorothy with the
supreme confidence of her two years, as
her mother tenderly swept her hand
over the little ones glorious tangle of
golden curls. "PapOo tum tee mamma,
Dzak, Dawsy."
Yes, darling, papa will come and see
mamma and Jack and Dorothy. Brother
will be home from school presently and
he will be glad, too, when he knows papa
is coming so soon.
Mrs. Harris counted the days after the
receipt of the cable. She knew that it
would take about ten days for the ocean
trip at that season of the year, and she
feared a little for the safety of their
loved one on the treacherouS bosom of
the great ocean. Sturdy little Jack
was his mothers comforter through the
days that dragged slowly on, and each
night mamma and Jack and Dorothy
knelt at the side of Jacks bed and
united in a fervent plea to the Good
Father to watch over their dear one and
bring him safely home.
A week passed without special Incl
dent. There was something done in
the way of preparation of the Thanks
giving dinner, which had been feature
with them ever since they were mar
ried. Mrs. Harris came Of good old
New England stock, and the Indian
buildings, and mince pies, and "crullers"
| that invariably formed part Of this
meal were always prepared by her own
hands. Her husband insisted that no
one else could make them taste so
good.
The Thursday before Thanksgiving
when little Jack came home from school
his cheeks were flushed and he COM
| planned of his throat. Mrs. Harris, who
never liked to take any chances, called
the family physician. who said that it
was nothing serious, though it should
be carefully watched. The next morn
| ing Jack was WorSe-much WOrSe-and
that night was very bad indeed. When
the doctor came he brought another
with him, and their verdict struck
chill to the heart of the little mother.
My dear madam, said the old doc
tor, kindly, your boy has diphtheria of
the most malignant character. We
will do all in our power for him, but we
| gravely fear for the result. In the
meantime the little girl must be kept in
another part of the house"
Dorothy was banished to the upper
/ floor, and Mrs. Harris sent for her sis
ter to help her. Together they watched
over the pillow upon which Jacks curly
head tossed, and together they prayed.
i All, the terror of those nights; the hopes
and fears that alternated in the bosom
Of that fond mother; the prayers that
went up from the depths OF that gentle
wOman's soul for the preservation of
the life Of her boy. ooh, God, spare
him to as, she pleaded; "let him live to
| glorify Thy name and bless Thee in the
| days when he shall nave arrived at
mans estate. Take him not from US,
we pray Thee; heal his sickness and re-
store him whole to the arms Of those
who wait for him. Yet. If he must die,
oh, our Father, we pray that he may be
permitted to live to see his earthly
ather once more.
So she duplicated for the life Of her
| hrst-born, and when she rose from her
knees great beads of sweat were on her
forehead. Her eyes were dry and hot.
She stepped lightly to the side OF Jack s
bed. He had not stirred. His lips,
parched by the fever's horrid heat, were
swollen and cracked. His face had lost
the brilliant flush it first bore, and was
taking on the darker shade that tells
the trained physician that hope is gone.
%, why cannot viii be here to bear
this with me? Must our little one go
before he comes2 Heavenly Father
hasten him on his way" Who can
measure that poor mothers agony.
None save those who have watched
while the light has faded from loving,
sunny eyes, and tiny hands dropped
nerveless upon a breathless bosom.
Mondays papers noted the arrival at
New York of Wills steamer, and if
there was no delay on the way he might
get home In time. That night Dorothy
exhibited some unfavorable SYMPTOMS,
and by Tuesday morning was In the