502 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
[November, 
How Jamie Spoiled the Thanksgiving 
The great New England holiday, Thanksgiving, 
was at hand! that day sacred to roast turkey, and 
GOING TO THE DINNER. 
pumpkin pie, 
when every 
good American 
is called upon 
to return 
thanks for the 
bountiful gifts of 
the harvest, and 
gather his chil¬ 
dren and grand¬ 
children around 
the festive board. 
T’is a happy, home¬ 
like time to all ex¬ 
cept those unfortunate 
barn-yard families, the chickens, ducks, and tur¬ 
keys, which at this season are slaughtered by 
thousands—a sort of burnt sacrifice to the memory 
of the Pilgrim Fathers. 
For weeks beforehand, Mrs. Pringle had been 
rolling, stirring, and chopping, in preparation for 
the grand event; for in addition to her own family, 
she had invited the Parson and his wife to dinner, 
and the former was as fond of good turkey as his 
parishioners, and why should he not be ? while 
the latter was celebrated as a house-keeper for 
miles around. So Mrs. Pringle felt considerable 
pride in having her Thanksgiving feast as perfect 
as possible, and awoke on the morning of the last 
Thursday of November, with the conviction that it 
was to be a day of triumph. She was sure no 
pantry in the country could display a more tempt¬ 
ing array of cakes and pies, and no housewife boast a 
larger or plumper turkey than “ Mr. Gobbler,” who 
two days before had lost his haughty head upon 
the chopping block. 
But alas ! she had counted without her host, or 
rather without Jamie, that incorrigible small boy, 
who always seemed to play the part of Puck in the 
■otherwise well-regulated Pringle household. 
when safe on the other side of the fence, had 
shaken his fist at the blustering fowl, and shouted, 
“just wait until Thanksgiving old fellow, and I will 
have my revenge ! ” 
Therefore it was somewhat of a blow on Thanks¬ 
giving morning, when he had taken refuge in the 
store-room, to escape being dragged off to church, 
to be discovered as the last bell was ringing, hidden 
behind the flour barrel, making way with the 
choicest pie of all the lot—the one that was to turn 
the parson’s wife green with envy—and to be in¬ 
formed that, “ if he could’nt go to meetin’, on 
Thanksgivin’, he could’nt eat any of the dinner.” 
In vain lie pleaded and shouted ; his mother gazed 
upon the ruin of her master-piece, and remained 
like adamant. “She shall be sorry!” muttered 
Jamie, as Mr. and Mrs. Pringle finally departed for 
the sanctuary, and he set his fertile brain to work 
to devise sundry means of torment. Aunt Dolly, 
the colored cook, was busy in the kitchen, and had 
no time to watch “ massa Jamie,” who improved 
his opportunity by emptying the contents of the 
sugar bowl into the chicken-pie, investigating the 
duck, and finding it tender and good, the parson 
concluded to take the other. Over went the bird, 
when to the farmer’s dismay, no other wing appear¬ 
ed. “Where is it ? ” he gasped, while Mrs. Green- 
leaf shook wdth suppressed laughter, as she ob¬ 
served, “ It seems the Pringle fowls are all either 
maimed or missing,” while the hostess longed for 
the floor to open and hide her confusion. “ Those 
doughnuts look tempting,” remarked the parson, 
helping himself, when suddenly one slipped through 
his lingers, and went flying into the air, it being the 
top cake, to which Jamie had fastened an almost 
invisible line, and now twitched, quickly away. 
“ The dinner is bewitched ! ” exclaimed the par¬ 
son, rising in indignation, “but we did not come 
here to be made fun of!”—“It really is very 
strange,” said Mrs- Pringle, “ but I am sure that 
bad boy of 
mine is at the 
bottom of it.” 
—“Take a 
glass of ci¬ 
der,” said the 
JAMIE BEHIND THE FLOUR BARREL. 
Tor months he had watched the round yellow 
pumpkins turning more and more golden in the 
sun, and longed for the time when they should be 
transformed into pies, and many a time he had 
been obliged to flee from the wrath of Gobbler, and 
interior of 
sundry cakes 
and tarts,and 
finally took a light lunch off of the left wing of 
the roasted duck. 
Service and sermon over, the Pringle family re¬ 
turned, accompanied by parson Greenleaf and his 
wife, and it was a sight for hungry souls, to see 
Mrs. Pringle bustling about, scolding Aunt Dolly, 
and finally marshalling her family and friends to 
seats at her hospitable table. 
The blessing had been asked, and parson Green- 
leaf was rubbing his hands with|satisfaction, as the 
door opened to admit Aunt Dolly, bearing aloft a 
huge trencher, on which reposed the brown and 
steaming Gobbler. Mrs. Pringle’s face fairly 
beamed, when suddenly Aunt Dolly tripped 
on the threshold. Away flew the turkey in 
one direction, the platter in another, 
while the poor old woman fell head¬ 
long to the floor, not having observed 
the string which naughty Jamie—who 
was snugly ensconsed under the table, 
enjoying the fun—had fastened across 
the door-way, and which was now 
snapped asunder, and quickly drawn 
away. With a scream, all started to 
their feet, while Towser, the watch¬ 
dog, made a dash from a 
distant corner, seized the 
bird, and before any one 
could stop him, was off 
with his Thanksgiving din¬ 
ner. Without a turkey, 
the feast was shorn of half its 
glory. The discomfitted cook 
returned mournfully to her 
kitchen, and farmer Pringle 
found it hard work to satisfy his hungry guests 
with chicken-pie, for it proved too sweet to be 
eaten, while the cranberries had been too plenti¬ 
fully salted to be palatable. At length, in despair, 
Mrs. Greenleaf said she would try a wing of the 
farmer soothingly, “ that I am sure is all right.”— 
The parson benignly condescended to do so, and 
raised the tumbler to his lips, but set it down again 
in a hurry. “ Molasses and water ! Come, May, we 
have had enough of this.” Tucking his wife’s hand 
under his arm, they departed, leaving Mrs. Pringle 
in hysterics, while her enraged husband discovered 
and dragged from beneath the table, the author of 
all this mischief, and invited him to a secret con¬ 
ference in the barn, from whence he emerged very 
repentant, with swollen eyes, and tear-stained face. 
AUNT DOLLY TRIPPED IN THE DOORWAY. 
His dreams that night were disturbed by a vision 
of “ Mr. Gobbler,” grown to unwonted proportions, 
and brandishing a huge horse-whip. The next day 
Jamie was obliged to eat humble-pie, and beg 
the pardon of the good parson and his wffe. 
