The Somerset reporter., 1895-11-28

nave 0tten p9ndered upon lt--Why
am I here ~hes4 I'D come from, and
why did l CON %
well, Il tell you. You were
brought here 10 be fattened The maid
supplied the food and your reckless giut-
tony did the rest. You are fat. "
Pm no fatter than you," retorted
the turkey.
All, that's a different matter" the
peacock chuckled. Il am not food; am
beauty. No, my poor friend, we shall
have to part-you to the table and l
shall remain here. 1t is your fate to be
done brown and eaten; walk here fan
cy free. / have seen ten generations Of
you eaten. You are the eleventh, my
poor fellow. F."
1T is impossible" groaned the
thoughtful turkey.
Thine Will tell, y said the peacock.
For a long time the turkey was
plunged in thought. He strobe to and
fro, and at last paused in his walk in
front of the peacock.
ut must be done, he said grimly.
Listen, my friend have no desire to
be eaten. | have an instructive feeling
that il would be unpleasant. Therefore
refuse. But l can see only one way to
escape this fate. l must do as you have
done. =
"What?" asked the peacock breath
lessly, for he had forgotten his own re-
mark
Il must he beautiful, " said the tur-
key.
The peacock looked dubious.
Yes, - sid the turkey firmly, 81
must be beautiful. very beautiful, far
too beautiful to be eaten. Leave mel I
would think.
Haggard and pale from his long night
vigil the thoughtful turkey lifted his
eyes to the east Already band of
grayish light lay close against the earth
and above it the darkness was thinning.
Slowly the sun pushed up red and in
famed shoulder and the light spread.
The birds began to twitter, for it was
day. The turkey bathed his burning
brow in the dew and shook himself once
or twice.
"CouIage!n he muttered, Courage T.
He walked briSkly across the barn
yard, through the gate and on down the
lane. AT first he met no one. Tears
came to his eyes He was very lonely,
and his nervous system was shattered
The sun was higher by this time, and
the light was dancing and shimmering
on the fields and breaking in curious re-
fractions of pale purple and pink among
the poplar trees. Although he knew that
the admiration of crude and actual ma
ture WAS bourgeois, and even Il tifle
vulgar, he could not help being touched
with a sense of satisfaction at the beau
ty of the scene 1t was, he felt, crude
imitation of Monet but, after all, there
was i'll ii hint Of Monet's genius He
was in mood Of aesthetic satisfae ION.
the moment WAS one Of those which lay
one open 70 new impressions. Then he
saw her. She was young and slim and
walked with grace and dignity. Her
eyes We're Cn the ground, and her wings
trailed ipdolently rs she sauntered to-
ward him i'll the pale multicolored sun
light The thoughtful turkey had an
impression of aesthetic delight i'll her
sensuous beauty, and then TWO thoughts
passed through his mind. The first was,
"How much more beautiful she is than
the peacock - and the second was, Il
hope she is not my sister - He Went up
to her boldly and gave her the salute If
the morning. She started rs though she
had not seen him-perhaps she had not.
You are very beautiful, = he said.
She held down her head.
II have heard so much about you, -
she said, when the ice was broken.
"You live up at the house and are very
learned
Yes, think great dead, " he said
81 am your cousin twice removed, -
she explained later in the conversation
you are very beautiful, . he replied
They walked ON. Much later III the
morning she said you, too, are beau
tiful, dear one, very, very beautiful
She sighed. The thoughtful turkey start
ed, as though for a moment he had
hardly taken the measure of her words
81 am beautiful -
Every beautiful, my own, " she whs-
pered
He cried aloud in his joy and Tapped
his wings and paved the turf
1t is because love you. she added
He became thoughtful
The snow was ON the ground the
snow hung i'll the trees, the snow sift-
ed through the air and fell softly every
where. The thoughtful turkey, with IA
firm tread and a look Of resolution on
his intelligent features walked rapidly
down narrow turning that led to "a
little wooden house set in one corner of
the farm. rs he came near the door he
paused. He crept closer and listened.
He could hear them talking.
I've always said. +" one of them was
remarking chat was john, that
there's nothing better for Thanksgiv-
ing dinner
In your own house, put in Hilda.
'In year own house, said John,
nothing better than u cut of nice pork
out Of the side -
Cooked by your own wife" said
Hilda.
cor course, said John, with the
cracking on and apple sauce.
Next year, said Hilda, we Il have
a turkey III set the eggs under the
speckled hen IS
Yes, next year, said John, but