The pioneer press. (Miller, Hand County, S.D.) 1893-190?, 1896-11-26

Thanksgiving and felt herself poor
and SOrruwful. indeed. Across the froZ.
Ell road she looked eastward ovcr Il
great stretch Of cold meadow land,
brown and wind-swept. and crossed by
icy bitches. 1t seemed to her as if in
all the troubles she had ever known
and carried before this there had al
ways been some hope to hold. as if she
had never looked poverty full in the
face and seen its cold and pitiless look
before. She looked a%nXiouSly down
the road. with a horrible shrinking
and dread at being asked, out of pity,
to join in some Thanksgiving feast,
but there was nobody coming with
gifts in hand. Once she had been full
of love for such days, whether Mt
home or abroad; but something had
chilled her very heart now, poor old
oma
Her nearest neighbor had been fore
most of those who wished her to go to
he town farm, and he had said more
than once that it was the only sensible
thing. But John Mander was waiting
impatiently to get her tiny farm into
his W hands; he had advanced some
money upon it in her extremity, and
pretended that there was still a debt.
after her had cleared her wood lot to
pay himself back. He would plow
over the graves in the field corner and
fell the great elms, and waited like n
spider for his poor prey. He had often
~reprOached her for being too generous
TO worthless people in the past, and
coming TO be n charge to others now.
Oh, il she could only die in her own
house, and not suffer the pain of
hOmelessness and dependence
1t was just at sunset, and as she
looked out hopclessly across the gray
fields, there was n sudden CLEAN of
light far away on the low hills be-
yond. the clouds opened in the west
and let the sunshine through. One
lovely CLEAN shot swiftly as an FRO
and frightened q far cold hillside
where it fell, and at the anne mo-
ment a sudden CLEAN of hope bright
ened the winter landscape of her heart.
There was Johnny Harris" said
Mary Ann, softly. He was n sol
dier'S son left an orphan and dis
tressed. Old John Mander scolded,
but | wouldn't see the poor boy want.
| kept him that year after he got hurt,
spite of what anybody said, an he
lplI)tu llle Whit 1llIe he tONlu. ne
said | was the only mother he'd ever
had. I'm goin' out West, Mother
RObb,' says he. Il shan't come back
till l get rich an then he'd look ut
ne an laugh, SO pleasant an boyish.
He want n that liked TO write. ]
don't think he was dom very we'll
when | heard-there, it's years age
now. l always thought if he got sick
or anything, / should have a good
home for him. There's poor Ezra
Blake, the deaf one, too-he won't
have any place to come to-
The light faded out of doors. and
again her troubles stood before her. Yet
it was not SO dark as il had q III
her sad heart. She still sat by the
window, hoping now, in spite of her
self. instead of fearing; and a curious
feeling of nearness and expectancy
made her feel not so much light-heart-
ed as light-headed.
Il feel Just as if sOmethin' was goin
to happen" she said. Poor John Har-
ris. perhaps he's thinkin' o me, if he's
alive"
1t was dark now out of doors. and
there were tiny clicks against the win
dows. 1t was beginning TO snow,
the great elms creaked In the rising
wind overhead.
III.