ON THE 'POSSUM'S TRAIL 



FROSTY weather and ripe persimmons had 

 come, with Thanksgiving close at hand. 

 Uncle Jethro and I were husking corn. 



"What had you rather have for your Thanks- 

 giving dinner, Uncle Jeth," I asked, "a big tur- 

 key gobbler or a nice young fat gander I ' ' 



The old darky stopped short, dropped his ear 

 of corn to the ground, and looked me over as if he 

 meant to have me for a dinner. 



1 ' Gobbler ! Gander ! ' ' That was what he said ; 

 but what he meant was : * ' Don't you give me any 

 gobbling old turkey! Don't you bring me any 

 hissing old gander! Your Uncle Jethro won't 



