The Anaconda standard. [volume] (Anaconda, Mont.) 1889-1970, 1895-11-28
THANKSGIVING.

Thanksgiving Is a day which fills us
all with thanks and roast turkey and as
such a day 1t Is dear to the hearts OF
all Americans. Thanksgiving doesn't
OF July, with its firecrackers, or as
Christmas, with Its bells. The country
Is the only place In which Thanksgfv-
ing may be enjoyed to its fullest ex-
tent, although there are people who
claim that IL Is not without its own
peculiar charm in the smallest kind OF
fiat At first IL may seem absurd TO
the student of human affairs that a
l6-pound turkey should be able to per-
form with Its maximum grace In $l2
nat. But this fact is not a mystery
when We come TO look II squarely in the
face and meet 1t with the mental dissect-
Ing knife. 1t is because these fiat-dwel-
lers enjoy many Thanksgivings In the
turkey of the present.
After the head OF the family has gone
to the table alone to do the carving,
because he would not have sufficient ell
bow room II the family were congre-
gated about him, they sit down and
dream OF the turkey, of the past. when
they were out on the farm, looking
across dreamy vlstas OF nesting land
scape. punctuated by the scarecrow,
shiverlng In his straw hat and linen
buster, to let the world know that sum-
mer was a thing of the past. And still
they fancy that they see this old scare
crow standing among the corn stacks.
with the wind blowing through his
whiskers. They see him right over
there on the fire escape OF the neigh
boring Nat. for all the fiatscape to them
Is a large area OF farm land nesting
with red-leafed trees and mortgages
that cannot be raised by hand and are
not self raising like the -four raised
upon II.
1t has brought with II pleasant MEM
cries which cover a period OF 30 years.
II only goes back TO last March in the
flesh, but II carries the man back to
the time when he slept like a top on a
corn husk mattress and arose In the
early morn to gather the steaming pam
cake on the fly, long before he dream
ed that he would ever have TO gather
the matutinal horse car on the fly. 1t
takes him back TO the old game of shin
ney. and brings back to him faces that
long since faded from his memory. Out
In the crisp chilly air he shouts, shin
ney on your own slder' as OF old, and
hears the yelping hound. shining his
patent leather with enthusiasm. and
is stirred once more by the ripping whiz
or the flushed partridge. and the rever-
batting bang OF the sportsman's gun.
that sounds so sweet in the aisles of the
silent forest. He will not wake from
this pleasant dream of past happiness
until the morrow. for then the turkey
will be cold. and the logs of fancy's
Preside will have been reduced to white
ashes to stir fitfully In the vagrant
gust of wind. Even when the turkeys
shining carcass has been chopped up TO
be utilized as the base of an economic
soup. the reminiscent charm will .have
vanished gracefully. like a $40 bill at
a seaside resort, for the turkey, like
love, Is never Itself again when once
It's cold. Its feet are on the ash heap
and Will strut about no more. Its head,
with It's great Dundreary whlskers OF
flaming red, Will no more MARBLE In
the rosy kiss OF dawn and MI the be-
holder with rosy anticipation of the
Jocund feast. It's work Is done. and Its
days are past. and now the family, so
well begrimed with gravy, TO the very
eyes. sit and regard one another with
silent Joy. The smaller members have
TO take bath to get the turkey of
them. But the victory Is theirs, as
they sit in the city fiat filled with vi
slons OF ecstasy and break the magic
wishbone and wish that everyone, from
the highest TO the lowest. has had Just
so merry and glad a Thanksgiving as
has fallen TO their happy lot.
II. X. Munkittrick.