Bisbee daily review., 1908-11-24
lRy Franklin B. Dorr.l

Did you ever spend IhanksSl'lhs Cn tie farm? Ii you haven't yO~ have missed something. You haze missed a treat to which every ploWbOy looks forward to, and which he r1' tains in memory long after he has grown to manhood and his la.r nas turned to silver.
 Just now the leaves are all turn ing from the beautiful green whicn has marked them thTOugL springtime aud summer, and are taking on Varle gated hues of yellow, yerm llion and old gold. They have b en n-pped by Jack Frost, and will sJon g Whlri- ing around anu around as the fall wind .isIodges them from the anchorage. 1 hey will in a little while make great
 eds under the trees, and Ike all vegetation return to dust
 But while the trees have been bud ding. and the leaves have matured, and given shade during the warm sum- mer months, the little f-ck5 of tur- keys have been lOiteTing ab ut the farm and the barn yard, Gni have spent much time in the shade of the
 rchard and the tall popIars. They became familiar with every spot in the garden, and used to hunt potatoe bugs and grasshoppers. But they were the most delicate of all fowls, and much patience was required to raise them.
 But along before Thanksgiving the ,argest and finest would be founded uD and penned in securely where they could be well fed and fattened TOT the great day which was soon to come
 ord tn wit sucT interest And how fat they would get.
 It is just this time, too, that the corn is ripe. and the boys are in the field husktng corn. And what appe- tites they have, too! All day lons you will hear the big ears of corn pop! pop! pop! as they are thrown against the pounding board of the high top box wLicd is used for corn picking. Up and down and back and forth all the Iivelong day the boy on the farm will follow the down row with his back half broke. and a contiual gnaw- ing at his stomach which suggests an ever increasing appetite.
 But about noon the cid bell in the harm yard sounds the longad for and welcomed hour. It is noon. The Thanksgiving dinner is all ready and steaming, and your mother has plan ned everything as it ought to be. You think so anyway, for right there in the middle of the table is the great big turkey. smoking and stesmi0g. and baked until he is just brown enough. and stuffed with sages and oysters, and everything which is needed to make the turkey the best in the world. And around him is the cranberry sauce and the jells, home made, and the sweet baked potatoes, and the bis cults wnich are just red hot from the oven. The celery Is lleaped way up high, and the mince pie which is near grandma's plate, is just the best you ever tasted.
 And then the whole family sits down. and grandpa offers up a short blessing for this Thanksgiving that has brought so much to be thankful fer, and asking that He who marks the sDarrows fall" will guide our steps arfght.
 Can you imagine a more beautiful picture if you were an artist, and wouldn't you like to sit down to that Thanksgiving nner back there on the farm? I'm sure you would. Out through the window you can see the big brown nuts drop from the walnut tree and hear the hickory nuts rattle as they are tossed down by the plaful snuirreI. You can hear the familiar below of the old milch COW as she comes along ID from the meadow, and you can see the woodcock as he goes dip, dip, dip. into the field.
 As these recollections come racing lack through years of experiences, melowed by scenes that are hallowed by sacred memories, I turn to that childish story which was sweet to us when sung at our mothers knee:
 S'Baekward, turn backward,
 O. Time in your fiigat;
 Make me child again
 Just fer tonight"
 But no Thanksgiving Is complete hack on the farm without an old fashioned country dance. After the teams are driven in from the corn field and are put up, the boys and girls in the neighborhood come trip ping in their best "bib and tucker to enjoy themselves. Josh Mecker, or soE1e other picturesque character in