Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1903-11-20
ELIZABETHS THANKSGIVING
BY REBECCA HARDING DAVIS,
. LIZABETH MARTIN was thi


a LIZABETH MARTIN was thir-
r. ty years old when she married and
~ went to Pennsylvania to live. She
carried with her much of the prejudice
and near-sightedness which is apt to be-
long to people who have lived in but one
section Of this country. She had been
the most intense of club Of Truth
seekers" in a New England town; with a
weak intellect had grappled with some
of the miShtiest problems that face man
kind; had fancied herself n Buddhist, an
agnostic, quietIst and ritualist. The
deity which she really worshiped and the
only subject of which she never wearied,
wns-Eliza beth Martyr.
All this sclfshness and conceit, how
ever, was only the fruit of her limited
mind and bad training. Underneath was
an honest affectionate heart, stitled just
now and forgotten.
Three years after her marriage to Ste
phen Pollard. her mother visited her for
the first time. The pollards lived in q
village in the midst of the rich farm
lands of Lancaster County. The abun-
dant crops, the full, easy habits of life,
delighted Mrs. Martyr, who was used to
the stormy fields and economy of Con
Decticut.
what a Thanksgiving day you will
have tomorrow. Elizabeth" she said, as
she sat with her daughter, looking down
over the valley glowing in the red mist
of a late Indian summer.
Thanksgiving, Why should / keep
Thanksgiving said Mrs. Pollard, with
an impatient shrug.
Mrs. Martyr turned her mild blue eyes
In amazement on her daughter.
my child, In such a beautiful homen
81 never was meant for n housekeep-
er. mother: | am bored to death. | have
no time for study with perpetual fussing
about the wash, or the marketing, or
baby's meals. Then these negro servants
with their familiarity and Incompetence,
madden me. | began to study Sanskrit
Just before | married, but with this house
and baby to look after, l have not read
line for year. Stephen makes a fetch
of his home. but l do not"
mo. | See" said Mrs. Martyr, with n
sigh "But you have many friends here,
Elizabeth? The society is good?"
az find neither society nor friends.
There are plenty of women who wish
to be intimate with me. There are two
Of them now coming up the hill to call
upon you Mrs. Grcr will talk to you
Of jelly and pickles and cordals by the
hour, and Mrs. Watson will lecture upon
the crest and possessions and ancient
glores of the family of Watson. Intel
ectually the whole community is pie
bsian. I've tried to hold myself aloof,
but 1t is impossible"
Mrs. Martyr made no reply, but cast
now and then an anxious glance over her
knitting at her daughters flushed, lower
Ing face. She saw that the old self-es-
TEEN and unrest of Eliza heth's nature
had reached rankcr growth in the fore
ed repression of her married life. This
was her first outbreak of complaint, and
the spoken words seemed to startle her
self.
II cannot thank God" she said pres
emily, ''for giving me a lonely life, how
ever well fed or we'll clothed | may be-"
Lonely? Your child, Elizabeth"
Mrs. Pollard smiled involuntarily.
Then she scowled again
Betty is but a baby. What compan-
ionship can she give me!'
Her mother hesitated; then she said
boldly: You have the companonship of
q good man who loves you. You ought,
above all, to thank your God for that
"Oh, certainly" said Mrs. Pollard, dry
~.
She was not going to explain to her
mother how tiresome she found Stephens