Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1903-11-25
EL|ZABETH'S THANKSGIVING
BY REBEccAHARDlNo DAVIS,
a uZARETH NIAnTyN
~~~~o~~~~~~

"a ELIZABETH MARTYR was thir-
ia ty years old when she married and
~ went to Pennsylvania to live. She
carried with her much of the prejudice
and near-sightelness 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 n
weak intellect had grappled with some
of the mightiest problems that face man
kind; had fancied herself Buddhist, an
agnostic, Quietist and ritualist. The
only subject of which she never wcaried
was-Elizabeth Martyr.
All this selishness and conceit, how
ever, was only the fruit Of her limited
mind and bad training. Underneath was
I'M honest. affectionate heart, stified 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 a
village in the midst of the rich farm
slands of Lancaster County. The album
dant crops, the full, easy habits of life,
delighted Mrs. Martyr, WHO was used to
the stormy fields and economy of Con-
necticut.
what n 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 late Indian summer
Thanksgiving! Why should 1 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 home!
never was meant for a 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 inc snpetence,
madden me. began to study Sanskrit
just before married, but with this house
and baby to look after, l have not read a
line for year. Stephen makes fetch
Of his home, but l do not"
mo, see," said Mrs. Martyr, with a
sigh. But you have many friends here,
Elizabeth? The society is good?"
II 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. Grier will talk to you
Of jelly and pickles and cordials by the
hour, and Mrs. Watson will lecture upon
the crest and possessions and ancient
glories of the family Of Watson. Intel
lectually the whole community is pie
beian. I've tried to hold myself aloof,
but 1t is impossible"
Mrs. Martyr made no reply, but cast
now and then in anxious glance over her
knitting at her daughters flushed, lower
ing face. She saw that the old self-es-
teen and unrest of Ilizabeth's nature
had reached ranker 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
entity, "for giving me lonely life, how
ever we'll fed or well clothed may be-"
Lonely? Your child, Elizabeth"
Mrs. Pollard smiled involuntarily.
Then she scowled again.
Betty is but baby. What compan-
ionship can she give me?"
Her mother hesitated; then she said
boldly: "You have the companionship of
a good man who loves you. You ought.
above all, to thank your God for that. "
'.Oh, certainlyw said Mrs. Pollard, dry
~.
She was not going to explain to her
mother how tiresome she found Stephens
good humor and incessant devotion, nor
how she had snubbed him when he want
ed to bore her with his anxiety about his
clients. How petty were all these inter-
ests. The Wyndham will suit and the