Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1905-11-26

MRS. PARSLEY
is THANKFUL
By Harriet Whitney Durbin

amt one thankful mortal already!
Now, 1emme see what n -all's lacking,
if anything is First and foremost,
there's the gobbler-poor Peleg! it does
90 against me to cook him, such a ma
iestical bird he was when alive, and SO
kind of condescending. l know l can't
relish him, but he does look mighty COM
Portable and neat, all trussed up ready
for the oven, don't he, Phineas? And
there's a half-gallon stone crock plumb
full of elegant stuffing. If he has to be
eat, | know he'd be pleased to see how
nice he is going to be fixed. Land! If |
had the say-so, people wouldn't Kill
turkeys nor anything-let 'em eat some
thing e1se-pork chops, for instance.
Hey-a pigs just as live as turkey
and don't love to be killed any better'
Well, come right whack to it, l don't
s'pose it does l don't see why these
here smart professors that can make
artificial everythings, don't make art1-
fetal turkeys and pork.
Now, Phineas Jeems, you quit a-lnter-
rupting till l get through taking stock.
There's two bouncing great chicken
pies-an jim juniors and Lucy Bellies
tads can wade slap into 'em, and not
make much of hole either. The wash
boilers jam full of gingerbread and
doughnuts, and you can't lift the led of
the three gallon cooky-jar without cookies
a-toppling all over creation. There's
more pies than you can say grace over at
one 1ick-punkin and plum-butter and
apple and lemon marin-gueS-and coolies
of little patty-pies. Yonder's fruit-cake
and sunshine-cake and pound-cake and
plain one-two-three-f our-cake and coffee
cake with cinnamon and chopped sweet
alums on top; and loaves and loaves of
bread, of course-bread's the staff of life,
you know, Phineas. Oh, yes, and a
gallon of cranberry sass.
Well, I amt ashamed of that layout.
And everything's as clean and sweet
as new apple-blossoms. | don't brag up
my cooking, but do know it's clean
There's no excuse for being dirty and
making folks sick through ignorance,
these days, with the papers all a-telling
how to have stereotyped milk and mer-
cerized pans, and everything made anti
skeptical generally. Now, Aunt Roancy
Butterfly, she's a middling cook, and not
stingy bone in her, but she don't pay
scrap of attention to germs and microbes
and such; and | do believe | found a
backsilly in her pie-crust last week
either that or a red ant, l amt plumb
sure which
Oh, yes, Phin, 1 wish you'd go down
cellar and fetch me up that gallon jar
of pickle peaches, if you don't mind, and
couple O. jars of gooseberry
and crab-aPple. Oh, yes, and Phineas-
while you're down cellar look if that
Gag of apple-butter' a-keeping all right.
And Phin - oh, Phinl Fetch up a
dishpanful of sweet-bough apples and a
wash pitcherfu1 O cider, for tonight.
Land! my feet ache me to pieces, I've
been on 'em so; but it's most all done
now-the children can come; they'll find
things ready. And if | can think up
any pore soul that hasn't got good
dinner, I'm a-going to gather EN- in.
The Lords prospered us, and I'm going
to pass it along.
There! l forgot to tell you to fetch up
that big jar of mangoes and some stuffed
peppers, and a few glasses of currant Jell.
There's nothing like c11rrant iell to be