“ I know it don’t seem like Tbanlcsgivin’ sea¬ 
son,” Deacon Bkown answered sadly; “stiil 
wo ought to be thankful for what we havo en¬ 
joyed." 
"Oh, dear! oh dear!” cried Mrs. Brown, 
breaking down completely, and folding her 
arms upon the arm of the rocking chair she 
laid her head upon them and sobbed. “ I can't 
bo thankful when I think our boy’s gone—all 
the one we had left to love and care for us in 
our old age. I try not to think of it, sometimes, 
but 1 can’t shut iny eyes 'thout aeeln’ him lyin’ 
In the grass, dead or dylu’. Poor boy! Poor 
Jamie ! I know ho thought of you an' mo, an' 
Susan, and sometimes I walte up In the night, 
thlnldu' how like aa not he kep' callin' for ua 
when ho died, an’ wo couldn't bear nor answer 
him, an’the poor boy had to die all alone, so 
fur away from homo. Oh, my boy!—my boy!" 
and the sorrowful woman rocked herself to and 
fro la her grief aa many another Northern 
mother has done, aye, and Southern mother, 
too. 
“ If he was fur away from us, an’ his earthly 
home,” Deacon BROWN said, solemnly," ho was 
jest us near to Goo as he would have been here 
In the house where he was born. 'Twun't but a 
little ways from that battlefield to Ills ovorlast- 
ln' home. I'm comforted to think o’ that, Ra¬ 
chel.” 
“I know all that,"aobbod Mrs. Brown, “but 
— 1 Invert him so /’’ 
“ Don't cry, mother.” Susan got up from tho 
cradle where she had Just laid a chubby, red- 
cheeked baby down to sleep, and came to Mrs. 
Brown’s side. "We can’t help having sorrow¬ 
ful thoughts for James, and wishing that God 
could have spared him to Us a little longer; but 
there’s one consolation—he’s better off than 
wc are, and weshall meet him in Heaven. When 
f think of that, 1 can’t help having thank.nl 
thoughts," and she bent down ami kissed her 
mother-in-law's wrinkled face. 
“ I know 1" Mrs. Brown said, wiping her eyes 
“If it wau't for that thought, I don’t know 
what I’d do. I miss him so sometimes. So 
dooa father, though ho don’t say so much 
about it.” 
“ So do we all," said Deacon Brown, with a 
far-off look In his eyes. Perhaps he was look¬ 
ing with eyes of faith to tho land beyond the 
river, where he believed his boy was waiting 
for the loved one’s loft behind. 
" 1 guess, on the whole, we’d better do some¬ 
thin’ toward gettin’ up a dinxer to-morrer,” 
Mrs. Brown said, a halt hour later. “ 'Twon’t 
do to let the custom drop, you know; an’ meb- 
be 'twill ’liven us up a little," she added, with 
a sigh. 
So they weut t» work, and ere long the kitchen 
was full of all kinds of Savory odors. You 
would have missed the old, cheery laugh of 
Mrs. Brown had you been there. The shadow 
of war lay over that household as over thou¬ 
sands of otters, and where, of old, laughter 
rang and happy voices echoed, tears fell and 
weary faces told of heavy heart i. 
"There, the baby’s waked up," Susan said, 
as a crowing voice came through the kitchen 
door. “ Hear him talking to his grandpa.” 
“Bless Ids dear little heart I" Mrs. Brown 
exolaimed, with quite as much pride and ten¬ 
derness In her face and tone as there had been 
In Susan' ft. “We shouldn't know how to get 
along without him, should we? He’s about all 
the sunshine we’ve got left, now Jamie’s gone. 
"I think he looks more and more like 
James,” said Susan. 
And so they worked, always talking and 
thinking of " Jamie. 1 ' Did they make pits or 
beat up cakes, Mrs. BROWN was sure to tell 
how much he liked them ; and If they spoke of 
baby, Susan was ready to tell of some little 
trick or look or gesture which reminded her of 
the husband she had lost. 
Thanksgiving Day dawned beautifully bright 
and clear. There were services at church, us 
usual, and Deacon Buown harnessed up old 
"Steady” and tilled the old red sleigh-box 
brimming full of hay; “for how,’’ lie argued, 
“could a horse feel thankful,standing out in 
the cold, If lie had nothing to eat V” 
Susan could uot help crying when she re¬ 
membered that other Thanksgiving Day four 
years before. Now everything was so changed. 
An unknown grave held the brightest part of 
her life, and hopes that had been bright and 
full of promise hud gone down with the murky 
sun pn that dreadful battle-day when James 
Brown fell fighting In his country's defense. 
I am afraid there wore many hearts In the con¬ 
gregation that day full of such or similar sor¬ 
rowful thoughts aa those which rose up in 
Susan’s heart, or expressed themselves on Mrs. 
Brown' kind old face—for thoro were many 
graves in Raahervillo Cemetery whore soldier 
boys were sleeping, and many, many more on 
the battle-fields “down South.” 
At length the sermon was ended, and tho 
congregation broken up. Deacon Brown drove 
up to the gate to leave Susan, Mrs. Brown and 
the baby, before driving old Steady around to 
the barn. 
" It’s purty slippery," he Bald. “ Le’me carry' 
the baby, an’ ol’ Hteddy can go round to the 
barn alone. He known the way as woll as I do. 
Git up, Bteddy ; gee there—so!’’ 
“Steddy” started off obediently, and Deacon 
Brown unlatched tho gate and went up tho 
Mrs. Stanley's hand, while people crowded 
up with congratulations for the newly-married 
pair. 
“Tho dears i" exclaimed Mrs. Brown. “How 
han’aome they looked together—didn’t they. 
Miss Stanley?” 
“The best lookin’ couple I’ve seen In a long 
time, if one on ’em (s my own da’ter," answered 
Mrs. Standby, with fond pride In her eyes. 
Kind motherly hearts I She had found a new 
son to love and Mrs. Brown a now daughter, 
and thero was quite room enough for them in 
their affections. 
The hand-shaking and well-wishing were over 
at last, and Deaoou Brown “bundled” Mrs. 
were getting along. You know I’m alwavs in¬ 
terested In them,” he said, laughingly. 
“There’s the pies," said Mrs. Brown, with a 
motion of her hand toward the pantry, “ an’ 
the cake ain’t, done yet.’’ 
“ They’re too tempting to bo looked at," said 
James, smacking his lips. “Wait till to-mor¬ 
row, mother mine, and see what becomes of 
your pies.” 
“They was made to eat," answered Mrs. 
Brown, giving her energies to the twisting of 
her doughnuts into the proper shape of that 
article of food. 
Nightfall came down over tho gray New En¬ 
gland landscape. In the pantry, where the pies 
I’VE BEEN THINKING 
I’ve been thinking. I’ve been thinking 
What a glorious world were this, 
Did folks mind their business more, 
And mind their neighbors’ less I 
For Instance you and l. my friend. 
Are sadly prone to talk 
Of matters that concern us not. 
And other’B follies mock. 
I’ve been thinking, if we’d begin 
To mind our own affairs, 
That possibly our neighbors might 
Contrive to manage theirs. 
We have faults enough at home to mend- 
It may be so with others ; 
It would seem strange If it were not. 
8 ince all mankind arc brothers. 
Oh ! would that we had charity 
For every man and ivuuiau j 
Forgiveness is the mark of those 
Who '• to err is human.” 
Then let us banish Jealousy- 
bet’s llftoiir fallen brothers 
And as we journey down life’s road, 
Do good to one another. 
BACK FROM THE DEAD 
BY EBKN E. REXFORD 
It was the day before Thanksgiving. The 
first snow of the seasou had fallen, and tho 
apple trees before Deacon Brown’s old rod 
farm house bent wearily tinder the damp weight 
upon their leafless branches* 
In the low kitchen, mysterious “ doin rs” were 
going on. Mrs. Brows was up to her elbows In 
a great wooden bowl of flour, from which her 
inimitable doughnuts were to be manufactured. 
Nobody else in Rashervllle could nvke such 
daugbrnits as Mrs. Brown— so crisp, so rich, bo 
sweet, that they fairly melted In one’s mouth. 
The children which Thanksgiving Day always 
brought together around Deacon Brown’s hos¬ 
pitable table, appreciated them In a way which 
reflected the most sincere and substantial praise 
on tho skill which could make such delectable 
goodies. I warrant more than one juvenile’s 
mouth watered at the prospect of to-morrow's 
feast, aa Mrs. Brown mixed her doughnuts 
that day. 
"Be spry, now,” to Roxy, her assistant, in 
cheery, pleasant tones, which wore Just suited 
to the plump, good-natured face of the deacon’s 
wife. “ Be spry, now, or them pies won’t bake 
so’s to bo of jest precisely the right color by the 
time we want tho oven for the cake* Punkln 
pies alters ought to bn the color of the shell, 
you know, Roxy, an’ we’ll hev to hurry ’em 
up a leetle, we’ve such lots o’ work to do, I’m 
awful thankful TbatiksgtrlQ* don’t come more'n 
once a year, there’s allers so much to be done.” 
And then Mrs. Brown laughed In such a pleas¬ 
ant, hearty way, as aha proceeded to prepare 
some of her doughnut mixture for “rolling 
out,” that T am sure, if you could have heard 
her, you would not have thought her very much 
oast down because there was so much to do, or 
in the least disturbed with the labor Thanks¬ 
giving Day entailed. On the whole, I think 
Mr3. Brown thoroughly enjoyed It. 
“Them pies are done," announced Roxy, 
after a peep Into the oven, 
“Are, hey?" said Mrs. Brown, with a patron¬ 
izing nod and smile at Roxy, as she plied her 
rolling-pin energetically. “You may set ’em 
by the north winder to cool, an' then put in the 
cake. It’s all ready. If It scan’s much longer, 
I’m afraid It’ll be heavy, an’ if there's anything 
in this world I do hate, more'n another, it’s to 
Lev cake heavy as lead." 
Roxy proceeded to tako out the delicious- 
looking pies, and set them by the pantry win¬ 
dow. Then the cake was put to bake. 
“There, now. Roxy," said Mrs. Brown, per¬ 
emptorily, “ you jest set down an’ rest yourself 
a minntt. There's nothing else to do till I get 
these doughnuts ready to fry, an’ I know you’re 
just ready to drop." 
" I ain’t much tired, Miss Brown,” demurred 
Roxy, “ an’ if there's anything to do-" 
“But. there ain't, jest now,"answered Mrs 
Brown. “Ain’t I boss here, Roxy Stone?” 
with a cheery little laugh. “ Wall, I thought 
so," as Roxy made reply that “the s'posed she 
was.” “Then do's I tell ye, an’ rest yerself a 
little." 
So Roxy sat down, and Mrs. Brown kept on 
rolling out her doughnuts and talking. 
“I can’t make it seem’s ef Jamie was really 
going to be married to-morrow," she said, pat¬ 
ting out her dough, “You see, he's so much 
you.iger’n any of the rest of the children that 
somehow I can't make It seem as ef he'd ever 
git big au' be married. I've allers considered 
him aa tho baby, you know,*’and Mrs. Brown 
laughed again, a pleasant, mellow laugh that 
was good to hear. 
“And I'm the baby yei !” said a Voice In the 
doorway, a voice uke Mrs. Brown’s, and James 
came Into the kitchen—a tall, good-looking 
young fellow, with bis mother's face and eyes. 
“Lawful sakes! How you scart me!" ex¬ 
claimed Mrs. Brown with a proud, motherly 
smile. “I didn't know you was anywhere 
about." 
“I came in to see how the plea and cakes 
Brown Into tho old red sleigh, with as many 
more as could ride, and drove off home, follow¬ 
ed hv the Stanleys, who were to take dinner 
with them. 
I wish I could tell you about tho dinner and 
do It Justice, but I quite despair of doing that. 
Such crisp-bnked, julcy-meated turkeys never 
graced a Thanksgiving table before, I fool as¬ 
sured, because Mrs. Stanley whispered to the 
delighted Mrs. Brown that “ She never see the 
beat. In all her life," and Mrs. Stanley had 
seen a great many flno Thanksgiving dinners 
and was considered almost as much of an au¬ 
thority on the subject as Mrs. Brown was, 
therefore was quite capable of judging, and her 
onlnlon must go a great deal further than mine, 
Tho young generation of Bkoavns and Stan¬ 
leys, peeping In at the open doors of the din¬ 
ing-room, wondered how long It would be be¬ 
fore they got big enough to sit dowu with the 
older people and not be obliged to “ wait." On 
such occasions as this, to “ wait" was to suffer 
martyrdom. The delightful, savory odors of 
nlccJy-brbwned turkeys, the bubble of spark¬ 
ling cider, and the busy chink of knife and 
fork, were simply tantalizing. 
Mrs. BROWN’S pies and cakes and doughnuts, 
and the mnuv other good things her skill had 
prepared for the occasion, were admired and 
praised till she was perfectly satisfied that her 
efforts had proved eminently successful, and 
Thanksgiving had lost noue of its old, time- 
honored character from fuilure on her part to 
do it justice. 
“It God is willing,” JAMES said, very rever¬ 
ently, as he and Susan stood together after 
dinner in the empty sitting-room, “ we avRI live 
to see many Thanksgiving Days as pleasant as 
this one." 
“I hope so," Susan answered, and then he 
kissed her. 
“ It God is willing!" You see James had an¬ 
other old-fashioned way clinging to him. It 
was to not forget that God has something to 
do with us, albeit he lived lu moderu times 
AVhen creed and theory would almost lead one 
to believe that people could get along without 
God well enough. 
had been set to cool were pans of crisp, brown 
doughnuts, and loaves of a Tiber cake and fluky 
tarts with ruby jelly quivering in each cup of 
crust. And In the woodshed two great turkeys 
were being robbed of their bronze coats, after 
having hmt their heads. To-morrow was to he 
Thanksgiving and .Tames Brown's wedding 
day, and It was to be kept, in the best style 
known to Rashervillc, Mrs. Brown declared. 
“Dear me, bus!” said Mrs. Brown, folding 
her plump arms across her chest, and dropping 
Into the great rocking chair by the window, 
“I’m oammoat tired to death.” 
The morrow dawned pleasantly. The sky was 
clear as a bell, and tho air keen, frosty, sweet, 
like a draught or wine. They were early astir 
at Deacon Brown’s. Breakfass was dispatched, 
and then began the bustle and confusion of 
preparation for the expected guests. 
James harnessed up his horse and drove off 
to Mr. Stanley’s, where ho kueiv a rosy-cheek¬ 
ed girl was waiting for him. It was the last 
time, he thought, as he hitched his horse by 
the gate, that he should ever go there to 3oe 
Susan Stanley. When he came again, if 
SUSAN was not with him lie should ask for 
Susan Broavn. His heart avu-s full of tender 
little momoricA of long, SAveet walks under the 
starlight and kisses at the gate, and whispers 
so low that only themselves and the night winds 
heard them. Now those walks ami talks Avere 
over, and they were about to set out, hand in 
hand, upon the journey of life. “A good AA’lfe 
Is the best thing a man can have, except a good 
mother," Deacon Brown bad said to him that 
morning, and James Avas Just old-fashioned 
enough to believe him. 
There were services at church at ten o’clock, 
and directly afier they were over James and 
SUSAN were to be married. The old church 
filled to overflowing on that clear Thanksgiving 
moral ug, and many thankful hearts were there, 
for earth had been very bouutlful and lavish of 
her blessiugs, and the good people of Kasher- 
ville Avere not of the kind to be unthankful for 
God’s faA’ors to them. 
Services were over at last, and James and 
Susan came forward aud stood before the 
white-haired man of God. Mrs. Brown Avas 
close by and Deacon Brown avhs looking on 
with fatherly pride. The Stanleys were there 
too, feeling Just as much pride In blushing, 
half-frightened Susan as the Bhoavns did in 
the youngest son of their huge family. And 
there, on that day so full of happy, thankful 
memories, the “tAvaln were made one flesh,’’ 
Mrs. Brown cried aud laughed aud wrung 
“To-morroAv’s Thariksglvln’, but somehow I 
can’t s°em to enter into thesperit of what such 
a day ought to be," Mrs. Broavn said, as she sat 
before the tire In the November of 1866, much 
the same as she had sat there lu the November 
of four years before, ami she Avtped her glasses 
Avhieh had grown dim with the moisture of 
tears. 
