The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1894-11-26
THANKSGIVING day is

49, ors Of this ever pleasant
embarrassing festival are
divided between the rich and tooth
some bired and the almost universal
pisskin sphere. After the turkey, the
plum pudding; after the plum pudding,
which soothes and sustsins one like the
kiss Of summer girl by the mooniit
sea, the football.
Some mon 20 from the country to the
city to see n game of football, while
others 20 from the city to the country,
when there IL no game, to shoot birds.
But they all eat turkey II this divine
bird comes within their peounisry reach.
The Ethiop who is so unfortunate rs TO
have no pecuniary reach wsrth speak
ing of must depend upon his natural
reach TO penetrate the foliage of his
neighbor's tree and pluck therefrom the
moonlit fowl as watermelon or
Bartlett poar. Some men will eat corned
beef and Irish stew on Thanksgiving day
and imagine that they are doing the day
and themselves justice. Such men are
moral monstrosities that defy analysis.
Those who would attempt 10 fathom
them and arrive at an intelligible and
satisfactory solution could make more
money writing visiting cards with tel.
egraph office pen. Not more vain weu1d
IL be 20 attempt to preserve In musical
notation the spirited barcarols Of the
overripe Novem ber pig or to attempt to
sound the depths Of country plumbers
sophistry with an ordinary plumb line.
The old fan tailed gobblsr will no
moro strut about the farmyarA with the
dignity and hauteur of . retail floor
walker. No more will he wave his great
scarlet wattles like danger signal pre-
paratory to chasing the small boy, who
would make him the unwilling rscip-
lent of bucket OF cold water. No more
will he sit in statuesque bail on the
old elm and look wistfully ever the
russet cornfleld, whose burrows are pic
turesquely punctustsd with dull geld
pumpkins. He has heard the whining
winds Of autumn rustling in the rosy
foliags and his blazing side whiskers
for the last time Yesterday he was full
Of hops. Today he is full of chestnuts,
and his drumsticks play solo Of JOY on
the souls of the people congrsgstsd about
the table, especially that Of the small
boy, whose eyes throb with Joy and who
is as full Of anticipation rs the turkey
is full OF dressing. What beautiful
study is the old gobbler AS he lies upon
the platter. bronzed to crisp, with his
white meat shining through his tawny
envelope that ever and anon breaks
with sound that sends ripples of soft
est music across the lilied millponds
of our souls!
When the turkey is so good, IL is no
wonder that he usurps that portion Of
our inner man usually set apart for
plum pudding or pumpkin pie. The
man who likes plum padding better
than turkey, IL such man exists,
should not fail TO change matters by
putting the last first and the first Last.
A Shanghai ON Thanksgiving day
scratches gravel in the background of
oblivion. He IL more remote and OBJ
scure than Is baseball player in the
height of the skating season or furrier
in the sweltering dogday.
Thanksgiving day is day Of tender
dreams that fill our souls with sweetest
music. Usually it is still, gray day,
during which the dark, leafless tress
stand sharply etched against liquid
atmosphere in which you can hear the
partridge drum and the blue Jay squawk
mile away. The smoke curls from the
old farmhouse straight into the AIR, and
from its quaint windows the crow can
be seen circling wistfully over the old
cornfield, with outspread wings, as IL
fearing TO break the silence of tho scene.
And the old farmer Is thankful that his
sons have come back 10 spend this festel
day with him at their old home. They
are delighted, for once more they scent
the roasting gobbler and dream Of
cracking the wishbone again, just as
they did when small boys. And again
they will have the dear old nightmare
in the attic room that is colder than the
barn in winter and hotter than the po-
tato patch in summer. But they are
really no happier than those who cole
brate the day in New York fat that
is so small that it does not furnish suffi.
cient elbow room to carve turkey and
therefore compels the family to have
fricassee or a canned turkey, neither of
which is dish equal to the require
ments of so glorious an occasion.
The only time that Thanksgiving is
not success is when the turkey is so
iough that the only way il can be dis
jointed seems to be by blasting IL
With dynamite Such a turkey fills the
conscientious housewife with horror and
nakos her register VOW 10 ever after
subject the turkey to . thorough drus-
oing with rolling pin In the same way
ihat she docs the average mustang
,teak. A turkey should be treated In
ihis fashion before the dressing Is In
Ierted or not at ALL Yet the gobbler Is
peerless classic fowl that does more for
Thanksgiving day than Thanksgiving
lay does for him, and We should cher.
sh the sweet associations that surround
him from the Greco-Roman with his
lrumsticks TO the tug Of war with his
,baeta ona,nelod wiehhona