The Newtown bee., 1892-08-12
The Reward of Tidiness.

They had just risen from dinner in the old house at Eastwood. Dinah and Sal lie were carrying out the remnants of the feast. With regretful eyes, the children watched it's disappearance. They had tried all the traditionary rules, had ''stood up," jumped three jumps," "walked four times around the table" and positively not another mouthful could they swallow. And yet there was something sad in letting those delightful halves, and quarters, and triangles of mince and apple and pumpkin disappear and be lost forever. The Thanksgiving dinner for that year had become part of the past; and can tell you Gradma- ma Aliens piecrust was not a thing of every day.
 From the great turkey stuffed with oys- ters, which inaugurated the meal, to the tartlets of ruby cranberry, which brought it to close, everything had that dainty, savory perfection of flavor. which apper- tained to those fast vanishing days of wide mouthed fireplace, heaped with cracking logs, and "bake ovens" whose depths entombed whole regiments of loaves and pasties, and returned them in the fulness of time, brown, delicate and perfect-a fragrant resurrection. Alas, the aroma of those old fashioned viands is almost a traditionary thing to those days of modern Improvements. Here and there, ,ib fingers in the far reces- ses of New England, and at Grandma Aliens it would finger always. No range disfgured her kitchen. A "water back' was thing unknown. The simple fire place wore it's ancient livery of cranes, pothooks, and roasting jacks, and, over all, King Hickory, jolliest of monarchs, presided royalty. Under his sway, what unimaginable cakes came to perfection! What fiavorous roasts What tempting baked beans! What tooth some hoe cakes! What Indian buildings! I forbear. That was indeed the Golden Age of cookery.
 Four generations were represented in the circle that drew around the cheer ful blaze in the 'skeeping room,'' from grandpapa, with his silver head, to Baby May, fast asleep in the arms of her fair young mother, his eldest grandchild. There were five sons and daughters, with their respective wives and husbands, ,and their "A children, to say nothing of Baby May and her proud young father, or lit- tie Nell on grandpa's knee-the orphan child of that youngest son. whose loss xKyo ho els Inx !, ,;o ha. home. But, tonight, no shadow was visible. The flickering fire light fell only upon faces at their brightest, whether in the bloom of childhood or the comedy serenity of middle life; on bright eyes and lips, on kindly smiles and looks. All shone with the cheerful humor of the anniversary. The children brimful of fun and turkey; the parents renewing their own childhood for an evening.
 'Dranpa, tell us story,' demanded one of the little ones as night drew on.
 "Good for you, Tet!" exclaimed her brother.
 "Oh, yes, grandpapa grandpa tells us such nice stories ', chorussed the others while little Nell, putting her soft hand to the wrinkled cheek, joined in with the Please which she had so often found irresistible.
 Now this story of grandpa's was one of the features of the Eastwood Thanks giving. It used to be Cinderella" and aJack the Giant Killer, ; formerly, when the little people were still less ;and now- adays it was stirring tale to please the boys and girls, or some German legend adapted to the occasion. Last year, it was the adventures of drummer boy and his dog at Antietam. And now, as grandpa settled Nell in more comfort able position in his lap, and gave pre- "Hem!'' the whole party, young and old, clustered a little nearer, and prepared to be attentive.
 There was sly twinkle in grandpa's eyes as he began;