Newspaper Archive of
The Saguache Crescent
Saguache , Colorado
November 21, 1901     The Saguache Crescent
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November 21, 1901

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,- - pearing in the doorway. / He was Stephen Butts, a relative of ~/~~1 the man who had married Martha's only daughter, who, with her husband, ~ ~~'..~_--~~~ ~j~ now was dead. ~,~, ..-.. _. ~-.~. , He presently stated the object of his o~-~.~~! z~.~ae~i.~/~.~ viMt. He had come to town from his ranch, wishing to take Jacky back with . him. He and his wife would he glad ~rhe snow upon the hillside lay, tO adopt the boy, he said. And thatched the cottage roof. "No, Butts," Martha replied, with a The web of vines by the Pilgrim's door Was fillet] with icy woof. touch of asperity, "I shouldn't feel a "he boughs Were leafless on the trees, bit relieved to be rid of Jaeky." Across the barren plain The north wind swept despairingly "And I must stay to take care of And moaned like one in pain. Granny," chimed in the child, slipping (It whimpered like some hungry child his firm, pink hand into the wrinkled, That clasps its parent's band brown one. And pleads for bread when there is none In all the dreary land.) Butts argued the matter awhile. He A]pove the little Plymouth town, wanted the boy. Finally he went Circling with empty maw, away, saying that he would not accept Mocking their hunger, flew the crow, Shrieking his "haw, haw, haw." Martha's decision as final. He would Patience. a blue-eyed maiden, be in town again for Thanksgiv- (Her eyes wi~h tears were dim), ing. * * * From hunger feeble, trembling knelt That afternoon Martha went to the And raised her voice to Him. "'Dear Dod." she said in pleading tones, office of her lawyer, Mr. Crell. Tender, plaintive and sweet. Mr. Crell greeted her cordially. 'Tin "'We's almost 'tarred, an' won't 'oo glad you called in today, Mrs. Brent," ple~ S~~ Send down some tings to eat?" he said, giving her a chair. "I wanted Then all day tong her watchful eyes to see you." Gazed down the village street, "NO good news!" he said. "I've l'~ot doubting but she soon woul,:l~see heard from Mr. Ford, but I'm sorry to Some one with "tings to eat." And, Io! before the sun had set, I~e obliged to tell ~ou that he writes he With wild fowl laden down, does not see much use of continuin| $ Four hunters from the forest drear Came marching into town. your pension cas~. He cannot d~scover any one who knew Sergeant William And (as in answer to the prayer), To add to all the cheer, Clay E~ James Brent." And bar~lsh famine from the place, James Brent had retaken his true 4 Came Indians with deer. ~I'he joyous villagers rushed out name when he got his discharge from The ladened ones to meet, the army three ye:~rs before his death, ]Jut Patience knelt and said: 'ranks, and came to live in this western town, Dod, For sendin' tings to eat." and now it seemed impossible to prove ~,--r~r'~a .*~ r-'~ "1 that he and Sergeant Clay were the ~P ~'~" A ~ ~ . ,) same m~n. ~~, His widow mortgaged the home to ~. ' " ~ Dawyer Ford, the pension attorney, I The night before Thanksgiving I found mamma sitting alone by the window in the dark, and when I put my cheek against hers it was all wet, and I said out quick: "Oh, pretty mamma, what is the mat- ter?" and cried, too. "I was thinking about your uncle Jefferson," she answered, then she dried her eyes and mine. "He will be the only one who will not be here at our Thanksgiving dinner." "But why don't he ever come?" I said. "Three years ago he had a misun- derstanding with your father," said mamma. "That means a quarrel," I said. "What did he quarrel about?" "The pronunciation of a word," said mamma. "The way a word ought to be spok- en?" I asked. "Yes," said mamma. I thought that such a queer thing who seeing no chance of winning the case demanded payment of the mort- oooo~....oO.O..(e.) gage. Crell told of Ford's demands. "MY POOR CHILD, WHAT DO YOU (o) ~ Martha starte~. She grew very. WANT?" " ~ SHALL D|I~CT ~ white She had a poor head for bus]-' to quarrel about, but I did not say THY PATH." ness matters, and she had not fully realized, when she mortgaged her property to meet the expenses of em- A Th~rtksgivir, d Story. ~ ploying the Washington lawyer, that she must lose it' if she did not get her ****************** pension. In the latter event the ten "Trust in the Lord with all thy heart years' arrears due her would easily * * * He shall direct thy path." have paid up the mortgage. Old Martha Brent, murmuring "]~ hope we may be ab e to sire the ;natches of her day's verses, little real- place ~some way," said Mr. Crell, ob- ized that a chal.enge to her faLh was serving her distress. "How about sell- close at hand. ing that land on the river?" She was dusting some books on a "Oh, sir, I cannot set1 that; it--" shef in her sitting ~o:m, and just then Martha, half extending the deed from she accidentally knocked one of them under her shawl, dr~w it sharply back to the floor, into hiding The books had belonged to Martha's A fierce flood of terror set every ~' I ~,~,~'I "What did you say. sir?" she asked, (~ .._ nerve in her old body trembling. ~ i ~1 weakly. Mr. Crell explained that it ~1 would be wise to sell the land. "I'm sure your husband would approve," he said: Martha rose from her chair abruptly. "Yes, I believe James would want me to sell it," she declsrel; "h~'d want ~ anything rather than Jacky and I'd be without a home!" She went away quickly. Martha did not work well that after- noon. Here mind was distracted. She '~ ~ kept slipping her hand into jaer pocket to feel the deed. It's possession con- fused her actions. Unable to stand the strain any long- er she started to CreWs office to tell the story. But on the way she met Jacky returning from school. "Come, you're tired. Let's hurry home," said Jacky. "Why, t'.:at's not the way home, Gr,mny! You're start- ing uptown. See, it's well I came to "Would he come if I was a ragged fetch you. Take my shoulder; I~n pretty big now." I little girl and asked him?" I said. ~CCIDENTALLY KNOCKED ONE TO Martha's determination wilted weak-I "He might," said mamma. "He is THE FLOOR. " ly away. She went home with her boy. i always so very good to poor chil- dren." husband. She dusted them daily, but It was not until they Were seated at i "Then I will go and bring him," I ~he never had opened them since his supper that her sense of right put in a I death, ten years before. Above the claim again. I said to myself, and ran away. Dinner book shelf hung a bronze medal her 'Tve taken the second wrong step,! would not be ready for an hour, so I husband had won for bravery in battle, and I've got to stop here!" She pulled cousinshad plentyplayingOf time.and talkingI lefttogether.all my Stooping to get the fallen book, Mar- herself up. I was afraid some one would call me tha also picked up a paper that had She knew that if the worst came to back, but I got away without being tumbled out of it. It was a deed con- the worst she might go to the poor- seen and went into mamma's room ferring a small piece of property below house, and tried to pursuade him to go and into a closet, where I knew an the town to one Frederick Willis. to Butts'. old coat of papa's hung. I knew no "Well, now, to think; I never knew Jacky's face clouded; he flung him- one would mind, so I got the big James deeded that away!" thought self back in his chair, scissors and cut off some of the sleeves, Martha. "Now, Granny," he cried, with tears, then I put it on; but it was so long She had Just laid the paper aside, "you're talking as though you wanted that I could not walk, so I cut off the whan the door burst open and a little me to go and you said you didn't; to make it ragged. boy came flying in. you promised that I might always stay I climbed up on a chair after I was "Granny!" he whispered, hurriedly, with you." dressed and peeped into the glass. I "'you won't let him take me from you Martha's face fell from the wheed- looked just like a poor, poor little beg- will you?" ling expresr0on it had assumed. She gar girl. It almost made me cry. "Why, Jacky!" said Martha. :gave up the effort to persuade the "I hope I am ragged enough to suit The boy's beautiful, flushed face child to wish to leave her as beyond Uncle Jefferson," I said, and I ran was upturned to hers full of eager en- her strength. She rose abruptly after down stairs and out of the door. No treaty, a few minutes and walked to the stov~ one heard me. "Promise, you won't. Granny!" She lifted a lid and snatched the deed When I reached Dncle. Jefferson's "No. no, Jacky," she said, patting from her pocket, f office his gig was standing at the door, his head; "you never shall leave Gran- "Why, what are you doing now?" so I waited close by until he came out ny unwillingly." Jack~ asked, surprised at the nervou~ of th~ house. I was afraid that after "Morning, Martha," said a large, intensity of her actions, all 1~ would not listen, but the ms- anything, for, of course, big folks I know best. "It was on Thanksgiving Day three years ago," said mapama, "and he has never been in the house since." "He must be very cross and bad," I said. "No, indeed, Hilda," said mamma. "He is a splendid doctor, and very kin~ to the poor. He is ready to go and see them any time, day or night. I have often known him to take th( ragged little children who were sent for him in his gig." Then she said again: "They will all be here but he," "Shall I go and ask him ~o come?" I said after a while. " I know where he lives." "No, Hilda, he would, not listen to you," said mamma. "If I was a ragged little girl would he come?" I asked. "He might," said mamma. Then she sat very quiet and looked out of the window for a long time, and I knew she was thinking about Uncle J eff~rson. Next day every one came--grand- ma, grandfather and all my aunts, un- cles and cousins, big and little The table in the dining room was bright and glittering with pretty glass, silver and flowers. Every one seemed happy, but I knew Just by her face that mamma was still thinking, "They are all here but Uncle Jeffer- son." So I went up to her and said: "Maybe Uncle Jefferson will come after all, mamma," but she shook her head and the tears came into her eye.~. ment he saw me he stopped and looked at me all over through his glasses. "Dear, dear, he said, "my poor child, what do you want" "f want you to come and see mam- ma," I said. He answered right away. "Certainly; jump in and tell the boy where to drive." When the black boy lifted me into the gig he laughed and said: " Well, little rag-bag, where shall I take you?" Just that moment I forgot our num- ber, so I pointed. Uncle Jefferson sat down on the other side of me, and away we went. Well, before I knew it, the boy drove down the wrong street, but there was a gate into our back garden in this street, and I told him to stop there. It was very dark in the garden, but I went straight up to the dining-room door, Uncle Jefferson following close behind. As I ran up the steps I threw away the old coat and handkerchief. for 7 knew mamma wanted me to look nice. When I pushed open the door and c~tlled out, "Here is Uncle Jefferson," every one stopped talking and turned around. Well, I aon't know what happened after that, but anyhow in a few mo- ments they were all shaking hands, and mamma was crying, but thi~ time she looked so happy. When at last they all sat down, I next to mamma on one side and U~cle Jefferson on the other, she said: "You dear little fairy, how did you man- age to make him come?" 'then I told her about the old coat, and she to!d everybody else, and they laughed, bncle Jefferson louder than all the others. Mamma said it was the very hap- piest Thanksgiving Day she had ever known, and all my cousins said it was ~he very best Thanksgiving dinner ever eaten. Well, after that day Uncle Jeffersor. and I were the best of friends, ano he always called me his Thanksgiving fairy. I move my arm-chair to the door that fronts the autumn wold, And gaze upon the stately trees, proud in their garb of gold; The quail her brood is calling where the brooklet runs away To find the sea, and Nature smiles this glad Thanksgiving day. The years have touched my hair with gray, hut still above-me flies The fairest flag that flaunts its folds against the azure skies. I watch it in its beauty as it floats 'twixt sea knd sea, From every lofty mountain top o'er peo- ple truly free. No war within our borders, we can all rejoice to-day; At peace with all the nations far beyond the dashing spray! Our navies ride ii1 every sea, our honor is as true As when was first baptized in blood the old Red, White and Blue. I thank the loving Father, He who watches over all, For blessings on our land bestowed from mountain wall to wall; For harvests that were bountiful from far Dakota's plain To where the old Penobscot rushes 'neath the pines of Maine. I seem to catch the echoes of an anthem in the South, V/here sings the golden oriole In some grim canon's mouth; And the laurel and the cedar and the branching chestnut tree Grow side by side, where once were pitched the tents of Grant and Lee, I hear no more the battle drums that be'at in manhood's day, For side by side, fore'or at peace, are standing Blue and Gray; Together they are marching to the des- tiny of fame, And each one crowns with deathless wreath our country's noble name. I dream of coming ages which our na- tion loved will crown With mighty triumphs which to her shall give a new renown; Until in conscious wonder every country 'neath the sun Shall ring with lofty plaudits for the land of Washington. We're marching on to greater things, as vessels sweep the sea: And each Thanksgiving fills our hearts with blessings yet to be. America is destined, if to God we're only true, To be the favored nation 'neath the can- opy of blue. Then let the, bells all ring today through- out our cherished clime; Let old and young with pride rejoice this glad Thanksgiving time; Let paeans rise from morn till eve and nothing come to mar The hope that rules our happy land be- neath the stripe ~nd star. The winds blow through the autumn boughs; methinks I hear a tread. A merry laugh and a little hand is laid upon my head; And soft lips touch my wrinkled cheek, and this is what they say: "i've come to kiss you, grandpa, dear, a thankful kiss to-day!" My eyes grow misty as my arms about the wee one twine; I cannot see the meadow and the wood- land's golden line; My old, old heart beats faster, as it bub- bles o'er with bliss, And silently I'm thankful for the ~ ~hanksgiTtng kiss. I've b'en countin' up my olessin's, I've be'n summin' up my woes But I ain't got th' conclusion sum would nat'rally suppose. Why I quit a countin' troubles 'fore I had half a score, While th' more I count my blessin's I keep findin' more an' more. There's been things that wa'n't exactly as I thought they'd ought t' be, / And I've often growled at Providence fer not a pettin' me; But I hadn't stopped t' reckon what th' other side had be'n, So I guess it wa'n't correct, the way I calkerlated then. For there's be'n a gift o' sunshine after every shower o' tears, ! And I've found a load o' laughter scattered all along th' years, If th' thorns have pricked me sometimes, I've good reasons to suppose ) L~ve has hid 'era often from me 'neath the rapture of th' rose. So I'm goin' t' still be thankful fer th' sunshine and th' rain, For th' joy that's made me happy; for th' purgin' done by pain; For th' love of little children; for the friends thet have' be'n true; For th' guidin' Hand that's led me ev'ry threat'nin' danger through. I'm rejoicin' in th' mercy that can take my sins away, In th' Love that gives me courage in th' thickest of the fray. I am thankful for th' goodness that from heaven fellers me 0i how happy and how thankful I forever ought t' be. So jest let us count our blessin's as we're journeyin' along, Then we'll find less time fer growlin', and more fer mirth cud song When you lift your eyes t' heaven earthly shadows flee away-- Let us learn this lovin' lesson as we keep Thanksgivin' Day. --Ram's Horn. not be lost upon those wh~ hear, nor In ulanning for our Thanksgiving dinner, our miI~ds naturally recur to the time-honored dishes as roast tur- key, pumpkin pie, "~ranberry sauce, baked Indian pudding, etc., and our feast never seems quite eomplet~, with- out them. It is not always possible, however, to have turkey and some do not care for it. Roast goose, chick- on, duck, pork, or beef may be subSti- tuted for it. Another nice dish is "mock duck," .or pork tenderloins baked with a bread dressing flavored with herbs and onions. A menu that is semi-old-fashioned-but usually liked is oyster soup, roast turkey with mashed potatoes, turnips, baked squash, pickles--sweet and sour--jel- lies; a salad, mince and pumpkin pie; fruit, nuts and coffee. It is well to have some kind of light pudding for those who do not eat pie. If oysters cannot be procured, vegetable oysters may be substitute~. Cream tomate is a favorite kind of soup. .'. ,aT_ Cooking the Turkey. To prepare the turkey for the oven, split the skin at the back of the neck, take out the neck bone, cut it close to the body. Draw the crop and the intestines; clean and wash thorough- ly; fill both crop and stomach cavities with stuffing. Turn the neck skin down under the back; tie a string round and bring the two ends of the string over the wings and tie on the breast. When ready to bake put the bird in the roast- ing pan; add a little water, small quantities of chopped celery, carrots and onions, two cloves and a small bunch of parsley. Baste with the gravy every fifteen minutes. Cook in a moderately hot oven for about two and a half or three hours. The pres- sure of the thumb behind the second Joint of the wing will readily break the flesh when it is sufficiently cooked. Take off strings used in dressing be- fore serving on table. After the turkey ms been taken out add a little water an~ flour to gTavy left in pan; boil for a few minutes; strain and remove all grease that comes to the top. Serve in sauceboat. There is danger that the religious slgnlficanco of Thank~gving day may be forgotten. We so soon grow accus- tomed to our blessings that we accept them as a part of the general order of things and naturally become ungrate- fxlful by pure forgetfulness or indif- ference. But as' a matter of fact most things which come to us come by the pure favor or courtesy of others, and how unworthy do we consider the in- grate! writes Roy. S. T. Willis in the New York Ledger. He is one of the most contemptible characters with which we meet. We consider him even uncivil who does not spontaneously say or write "Thank you" for the favors and kin~tness show~ him by his fellow man. And this word of grate- ful appreciation is never lost. Even if it ~ay ~m to have no effect upon him for Whom it waz given, it will will its influence be powerless upon him who bestows it. A cultivation of the thanksgiving habit wiil make to grow the sense of appreciation, and as a result our splrils will be sweet- cued, our souls enlarged and the whole horizon of life beautified. Then the ordinary affairs of life will never more be commonplace; our conditions and surroundings will always appear in a fresh light This is significant. The man whose family find in him a source of endless delight and joy is one who does not suffer the common relation- ships and the daily intercourse to be- come colorless and arid. Such a man keeps love alive by cultivating the sentiment of affection. His face, his voice, his deed, makes the o d courses of life brim and sparkle with a full current of tenderness and feeling. So it is again with the great artist who sees the common in an uncommon light and clothes the most ordinary objects with beauty and charm. In like manner the religious nature dis- closes its presence by the unfailing ~freshness of its feeling for all rela- tions and seasons and customs and i days. It numbers its blessings daily, !and daily does it express gratitude be- cause it feels deeply and gladly the weight of its vast indebtedness. The years may differ greatly in the com- forts and blessings they bring, but God's unbroken beneficence knows no divisions" of time. His bounty is aa unbroken eternity. All years, how- ever hard in the experiences they bring, are years of blessedness; it should be ours to receive what God sends and to be constant!y thankful. We should thank him who has made us and preserved us ~s a nation. Who rove:tied this continent when the proper time had cJme, and called to its sh~res faithiul and G:.dly men who believed in Him and in men as His children. Who preserved the national seeds planted in our colonies and united them for liberty and independence. Who made our young nation wise ~u counsel and strong in defense. Who pacified t~e strifes and erad- cated the jealous:es that separated our states and joined them anew in one indissoluble union. Who has given us the wisdom to es- tablish free schco:s and free churches, and has given us' brave hearted and ~lear headed men to sacrifice and toil for the public virtue and peace Who has given us an open Bible, a risen Christ, a loving church and a redeeming God. Who crcwueth this ye]r of grace with His b:,untiful goodness. i Oh, that men would praise the Lord for His goodness' and His wonderful works to the children of men.* 0- --.~:~.~ .~ =, .',vs.:';.v.~:~.!~.: ..... ~I/IIIII'~W" The Thanksgiving Tabl~ The table for the Thanksgiving d~n- ner should be set with the prettiest glass, china and silver that the house affords. Little individual paper cups with frills of orange-colored tissue pa- per. at each place would brighten the table. , These are filled with nuts and candies. Name cards are decorafed with a bow of orange ribbon or some appropriate decoration as a pumpkin, turkey, autumn scene, flower or leaf or some appropriate quotation sketched in pen and ink or painted in water color. These of course for a family reunion are not necessary, but they serve to make the table decorations more pleas- ing. Gourds hollowed out make pretty receptacles for nuts. Pressed ferns and autumn leaves also add much to the table decorations. Adam should have been a happ man. He had no mother-in-law. It's difficult to convince the unlucky man that there Is no such tban~ luck. .,