An Idea for Thanksgiving.
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p, —— ———— —ie
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN
DAILY THOUGHT.
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by, with his arms folded and his slouch Lord, some of us ain't ready, and we |
hat pulled down over his eyes. : ain’t tryin’ to git ready. We think now
“My good friend, you seem to be in | wel] do ‘better, but to morrow we'll fergit
r 1
utmost importance. Our tame turkeys |
are notoriously difficult birds to rear, un- |
’ j : ol
The newest idea, appropriate to der ordinary circumstances, being deli- |
Demon
Bellefonte, Pa., November 19, 1915,
THE FAMILY - THANKSGIVING.
Do you hear the turkey gobbler?
’Tis his last,
For he’ll soon be called to furnish
A repast;
Yes, the season of the rear
Is uncomfortably near
When his brief and proud career
trouble,” Thornton said.
The man raised his head, and taking
Thornton’s hand in both of his, he shook
- | it warmly.
| “It was your call I heard for help?”
tion of the wagon, “she’s lyin’ in there
dead. Mattie was the best wife a man
ever had.”
i Thornton gave a start, and there was
| a little choke in his voice as he said,
“That is bad sure. It's a pretty dark
Thanksgiving Day for you. I guess you
! feel you haven't anything to be thankful
i all about this.
| to do better an’ be better. Some of us has
“Yes, you see,” nodding in the direc- |
Help us to remember, an’
| a pretty rough road to travel, an’ lots of
| times we stumble an’ fall. But we know
{ you're fergivin’ an’ you’ll help us again
if we only trust you. Help us to hold
{out faithful to the end, so’s we'll be
| ready fer one of them mansions he’s git-
| tin’ ready fer us; we ask fer Jesus sake.
| Amen.”
Roger Thornton had heard many elo-
‘quent, carefully worded prayers, but
i
i
i
| none had ever affected him like this one
: from the uncultured man of the plains.
Thanksgiving, is that wild turkeys should
be farmed—that is to say, bred regularly
under conditions of semi-domestication.
Ornithological experts say that it is en-
tirely feasible, and in the adoption of
such a plan lies the only hope for the
preservation of our greatest game bird
from final extinction.
The wild turkey, of course, is a spe-
cies entirely distinct from the tame bird
with the white-meated breast. One rea-
son why its preservation is important is
that it is needed to contribute from time
cate and liable to epidemics—on which |
account many farmers have given up try-
ing to raise them. The reason why is
simply that there has been too much in-
breeding, and the stock has lost its hard- |
iness.
A number of the varieties of the tame |
turkey have been developed by breeding,
the principal ones being the bronze, the |
buff, the slate, the white, the black and |
The white was origi- |
But all of these are de- |
rived from a single species, which is of |
the Narragansett.
nally an albino.
Mexican origin. There is only one oth-
We Thank Thee.
For flowers that bloom about our feet;
For tender grass, so fresh, so sweet;
For song of bird and hun of bee:
For all things fair we hear or see,
Father in Heaven, we thank Thee.
For blue of stream and blue of sky;
For pleasant shade of branches high;
For fragrant air and cooling breeze;
For beauty of the blooming trees,
Father in Heaven, we thank Thee.
: —Emerson.
Will be past. ” i 1 to time its hardy blood and much-prized ; hich is native to Yu- Se
If h h 1d short! Tor : ion looked at hi | fle felt quite sure he would soon forget game flavor to the domesticated variety Snow pals is called the | Ideas for the Thanksgiving Table—On
rr While Eh er h . id, big patitigns, by inter-breeding. The comparatively “oscellated turkey,” owing to the fact | the white tablecloth form a flat irregular
Bes at i - Paoniment, git my Maker be. | on Den it was all over and they were dark meat of the breast of many of the that its tail is ornamented with eyes like centerpiece of wheat ears, with a bi
He would start for taller timber { “do you think I'd forgit my Maker be- about to leave, the cowboy took Thorn- [ame turkeys that come to market now- Doi x. I is ore ct he kin in the middle, hollowed ot &
With a jerk; | cause my companion has been taken | ton by the arm and said in a whisper, a-days at the Thanksgiving season is at. | {Pat of the peacock. Ss one pumpkin in middle, hollowed out an
But his life will be a wreck
And he'll scream to beat the deck
When he gets it in the neck,
Will the Turk.
Won't it be joy to see him
On the platter,
And the family, how merrily
They chatter;
They’ll rejoice for this and that
As they chat and chat and chat,
Thankful that the Turk was fat
And no fatter.
Listen! Heads are gently bowing,
And a prayer
Rises up to Him who holds us
In His care.
Yea, thanksgiving and good cheer
Seems to fill the atmosphere
For the blessings of the year
Everywhere.
Let us offer praise together,
You and I,
Knowing well we'll surely live
Until we die,
And when all of life is done
May we gather one by one
"Neath the uncreated sun,
Bye and bye.
y —Selected.
ROGER THORNTON’S THANKSGIVING.
All day the Chicago express had been
ploughing its weary way through the
huge snowdrifts on the Dakota prairies.
Finally it gave up the effort, and with a
puff and snort it came to a complete
stop®
“Guess we’re in for it,” remarked the
conductor. ‘You might as well make up
your minds to stay here a while.” This
announcement was greeted with a chorus
of “Ohs!” and “Ahs!” from the passen-
gers. It was the day before Thanksgiv-
ing—the time of all others to be snow-
bound. Many fond dreams of family
reunions and dinners in the old home
suddenly went glimmering.
In the rear of the car was a young
man who took no part in the disussion
of the situation. Moodily, silently, he
gazed upon the white waste that lay all
about them. He was a genial, whole-
souled fellow, and had been the life of
the party until the train began to lose
time.
Roger Thornton was certain that there
was not another person on the train
whose disappointment was more keen,
more bitter than his own. Others talked
freely of their frustrated plans, but he
said nothing. He made a pretense of
reading the morning paper, as a gentle
hint that he wished to be let alone. He
believed there were some things too
sacred to be made public property. How
could he tell them he was on his way to
Illinois to claim his bride? On the mor-
row the marriage vows were to have
been spoken. Even then Mary was at
the little country station waiting and
watching for him. He took her last let-
ter from his pocket and read it over
again.
“I will meet you at the station myself,”
she had written, “and then we will have
a nice ride home together. Yes, we will
give you cream-chicken, pop-overs and
honey for supper. I am so glad we are
to be married on Thanksgiving. Here-
after, the day will be doubly significant
to us. God has been so good, and how
thankful we ought to be for the privilege
of serving him together the rest of our
lives!” Thornton had read this para-
graph of the letter many times, and
somehow it always made him feel very
small and mean. He knew he was de-
ceiving Mary. She still believed him to
be the devout Christian he was in the
old home. But the city had left its stamp
upon him. He mingled with men of the
world who made light of religion. He
now regarded it as something entirely
beneath a strong-minded man.
Of course Mary could do as she liked
about these things. No doubt she would
take a letter from the little country
church to the one in the city. He would
go with her a few times for appearance
sake. When he stayed at home, she,
being a stranger, would rather stay with
him than to go alone. He was the
stronger will, and he smiled to himself
as he thought how easily she could be
led away from her faith.
The long hours of the night dragged
slowly by. When morning came the
storm had ceased. Part of the road was
cleared away, but it would be several
hours before the train could move on,
Time hung heavily on Thornton’s
hands, and he started out for a walk.
He went down the track to the village
from which he had telegraphed to Mary
the night before. He found a reply
awaiting him. Eagerly he tore it open
thinking it would be some consolation to
know he had a companionin his misery.
“So sorry,” he read, “but very glad it
from me? Of course it’s a terrible blow,
! and the future looms up mighty dark.
i But I ain’t goin’ to forgit His goodness
| in givin’ me such a wife. I was a poor,
miserable creature, and she made a man
o’ me. Oh, I'm so thankful I had Mattie
for just a few years!”
These words came as a stinging re-
buke to Roger Thornton. He felt like
hiding his face in shame. In the shadow
of a terrible calamity this poor man’s
heart was overflowing with gratitude to
his Heavenly Father, while he murmured
and complained.
“Yes, sir,” the man continued. “Mat-
tie stood by me through thick and thin.
We came out to Dakota to’ take a claim,
and we’s just beginning to get on our
feet a little. She was home-sick for the
| old folks in Missouri, and we thought
we'd go down and spend Thanksgiving
with them.”
“Grandma was going to have a big
turkey for dinner,” said the little girl.
“With lots of dressing and gravy,” put
in the boy.
“And pumpkin pie and plum pudding.”
“We'd "lowed we'd reach there two or
three days ago, but she got sick and the
storm come on us. It’s uncommon to
have such a storm in these partsso early
in the season. She took pneumonia, and
I couldn’t do nothin’ for her. I just had
to let her die. I didn’t know what to do
but to dig a grave and bury her here. It
seems awful to think o’ layin’ her away
without a friend, and nobody to sing and
pray. After Idug the grave I wrapped
Mattie in the best quilt we had in the
wagon—but somehow I couidn’t.” Here
the poor man broke down and sobbed.
“It seemed so cold and hard, and Mattie
deserved something better.”
“And she shall have it, too,” said
Thornton. “You see I am on a snow-
bound train back there. I will go, and
see what we can do for you,” and before
the man could murmur his thanks his
good friend was gone.
The pathetic story Thornton told his
fellow-passengers soon aroused their
sympathies. They forgot their own dis-
for others. Some of the men went to the
village, and when they returned they
were carrying a casket. They procured
all the snowshoes available, and soon the
little party started to the wagon.
When everything was in readiness for
the burial Thornton placed the beautiful
white roses that were intended for his
bride in the dead woman's toil worn
hands.
“Ob, it makes it so much easier to
bear,” the husband was saying. And I
believe she knows all about what you're
doing, for I thought at first she looked
sad, but now she looks so happy and
peaceful. If we only had a preacher to
say a few words, I'd be satisfied. Can't
any of you men talk?”
The men exchanged curious glances,
but no one said a word.
“Well, we’ll have somebody read a
chapter and have some singing, anyway.
Mattie’s Bible and hymn-book is there
in the wagon. I reckon you women
folks can sing.”
A few of the women had braved the
snow to come to the burial. They turn-
ed through the hymn-book the man gave
them, casually asking him if he had any
preferences. :
“I don’t want none of them mournful
funeral hymns. Do any of you know
‘How Firm a Foundation? Mattie used to
sing that so much when she’s about her
work.”
The most of them knew it, and a sol-
emn hush fell over the little group as
they began to sing:
“How firm a foundation, ve saints of the Lord,
Is laid for your faith in his excellent word?
What more can he say than to you he has said—
You who unto Jesus for refuge have fled?
When through the deep waters I cause thee to go,
The rivers of woe shall not thee overflow;
For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,
And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.”
Roger Thornton had not heard that
hymn for many a day. He used to sing
it at the old country church, and believ-
ed every word. But doubts and ques-
tions arose in his mind, and he began to
think it was all a mistake. How incon-
sistent this seemed to him now!
When the song was ended, the hus-
band handed Thornton Mattie’s well-
worn Bible, and said, “You ain’t no
preacher, but I know you must be a
Christian. You'll read a chapter, won’t
you?”
Thornton’s face flushed scarlet as he
took the book and muttered something
about not being what he ought to be. He
opened the Bible at random, and began
to read the chapter:
“Let not your heart be troubled; ye
believe in God, believe also in me.”
“Them’s good words. Heaven bless
you for reading them,” said the man,
with the tears streaming down his
appointments and heartaches in planning :
“Say, don’t you think us fellers orter
shell out an’ give him something? I ’low
hungry.”
Thornton agreed with him and put a
bill in his hat to start the contribution.
“Lord bless you sirs. Lord bless you,”
exclaimed the man when they gave him
the money. “And when you’re in trouble
may He send you as good friends as
you've been to me.”
After the others were gone, Thornton
lingered a moment with the stranger.
“I came here to-day with my faith
shipwrecked,” he said as he took his
hand. “I was murmuring against a fate
that kept me from loved ones. I thought
I had nothing to be thankful for, but I
have learned a lesson that will go with
me as long as I live.”
“And I learned it all from her,” with a
wave of his hand toward the little mound
in the snow.
The next evening when Roger and
Mary were riding home together in the
twilight, she said, “I know I'll always re-
member this Thanksgiving.”
said fervently. “It was a wonderful
Thanksgiving to me.”—The Interior.
ant to Farmers.
able the dairyman faces a critical period.
The problem confronting him at that
time is how to feed dairy cows which are
grass to winter feeds without so sudden
tion.
Care is then necessary to see that the
cow has enough feed and that it is as
succulent as possible. The dairy depart-
ment of the Pennsylvania State College
lays special emphasis on these two points.
When the pasture begins to fail, the cows
should be fed ten to twenty pounds of si-
lage, or, if this is not available, some
green corn or the latest and freshest of
{ the corn fodder. Beets and other roots
and pumpkins may be fed to advantage.
It is possible to feed too much roughage
at the barn. So long as good feed is of-
fered them at the barn cows will refuse
to hunt it longer at pasture.
It is usually necessary to begin early
with some grain. The best way to judge
the amount of grain to feed is to note
what increase in milk is secured by feed-
ing a small amount. The grain allow-
ance may then be increased if it proves
profitable.
If silage or roots are not available, the
grain ration should be made up with the
idea of providing feed of a stimulating
and laxative nature, to overcome the ef.
fect of sudden change from the pasture
grass. Bran and oil meal are excellent
feeds for this purpose and should make
up as much as one-half of the grain ra-
tion, if no succulent feeds are available.
A good home-mixed grain ration for
feeding at this season when succulent
feed is scarce is as follows: 100 pounds
corn and cob-meal, 200 pounds wheat
bran, 175 pounds linseed-oil meal; 50
pounds cottonseed meal. If plenty of
succulent feed is available the same grain
ration that is used in the winter may be
fed. Two winter grain rations, which
have proven very successful as well as
economical at the Pennsylvania State
College when fed with clover hay and
silage, are: No. 1—275 pounds corn-
meal, 100 pounds cottonseed meal, 200
pounds dried distillers’ grains,
gluten feed, 50 pounds linseed-oil meal;
No. 2—400 pounds corn-meal, 100 pounds
cottonseed meal, 125 pounds distillers’
grains, 100 pounds gluten feed, 100
pounds wheat bran.
Corn Production and Value of Land Di-
rectly Related—Larger Yields are Re-
quired on Higher Priced Land.
—
How many bushels of corn must you
raise on your land in order to pay six
per cent. on the money you have invest-
ed? To show the relation between land
values and necessary crop yields of corn,
Prof. Henry G. Bell, formerly Professor
of Agronomy and Manager of Farms,
University of Maine, who is now Agrono-
mist for the Soil Improvement Commit-
tee of the National Fertilizer Associa-
tion, has prepared a table showing how
many bushela of corn must be raised per
acre in order to pay interest on the land.
. Taking $15 per acre as the average
production cost of an acre of corn, and
figuring the yield at the nominal price of
50 cents per bushel, Professor Bell's ta-
ble shows that 36 bushels per acre are
necessary in order to make the legal
rate of interest on $50 per acre land. A
yield of 42 bushels per acre is necessary
on $100 land, 54 bushels on $200 land, 60
“I shall not soon forget the day,” he
Fall Feeding of the Dairy Cow Impor-
When fall pasture ceases to be avail-
in milk in away to bring them from
and complete a change in their ration as
to cause a great dropping off in produc-
he ain’t got much. The little 'uns look
100 pounds | P
tributable to such matings, which are
eagerly sought by the knowing producer
of feathered stock.
The wild turkey is so notoriously shy |
that most people would be inclined to
suppose it incapable of domestication. !
Such an inference, however, according to
the experts, is a mistaken one. As a |
matter of fact, the bird is not by nature |
much afraid of man, but rather tame and
sociable, so far as human beings are con- Cc
cerned. In Massachusetts during early
Colonial days there were great numbers
of wild turkeys, and frequently they
made themselves at home in the close
neighborhood of the dwellings of settlers.
EXTINCT IN NEW ENGLAND.
Today the species is entirely extinct
in New England, and in other parts of
the country the fowl is extremely wild
and hard to shoot—not, however, because
of a natural shyness of disposition, but
simply for the reason that it has been
hunted and trapped so persistently. If
wild turkeys were bred and reared on
farms—a matter of no great difficulty to
accomplish, say the experts—they would
be docile enough, and, with proper pro-
tection, would multiply rapidly.
The fact that wild turkeys have main-
tained their foothold to some extent in
long-settled parts of their old territory—
as, for example, in Virginia and Mary-
land—appears to indicate that it would
be entirely practicable to restock por-
tions of their former ranges. But, in-as-
much as the country anciently occupied
by them is now for the most part popu-
lated by human beings, it is necessary, in
order to accomplish the object suggested,
that their multiplication should be en.
couraged under conditions of at least
partial domestication—that is to say, by
farming the birds for pleasure and profit.
It is believed that, if proper protection
were given to such enterprises by the
law, sp-rting clubs and wealthy individ-
uals owning or leasing large tracts
would gladly go into the business of
breeding wild turkeys—not for market, of
course, but for the pleasure derived from
such an enterprise. At the present time
not a few such organizations and pro-
prietors of great private estates maintain
similar preserves for the quail, or “bob-
white,” holding field trials in competition,
to test the ability of dogs to find and
point the birds. These field trials ate in
reality dog races, and no shooting of the
quail is allowed.
Where wild turkeys are concerned,
however, there is no reason why such ex- |
tensive preserves, covering in some in- |
stances many thousands of acres, should
not afford admirable sport under suitable
restrictions. There is no form of out-
door amusement more delightful than
turkey hunting. But, if farmers could
be persuaded to take up the idea, and to
breed the birds, they might sell shooting
privileges to sportsmen at a rate which
would put much more money into their
pockets than they could gain by sending
the fowls to market.
If the business were suitably managed,
farms of 500 to 1000 acres would yield a
laiger revenue from wild turkeys than
from poultry—sportsmen being usually
willing to pay several times more for the
fun of shooting birds than the latter
would fetch as marketable game. For
such purposes, of course, it would be
neither necessary nor desirable that the
fowls should be too tame. On the other
hand, experience has shown that wild
turkeys are not disposed to go far away
from an accustomed source of food sup-
y.
The wild turkey is prolific, and takes
kindly to civilization. Like its tame con-
itener, it is a great consumer of injurious
insects, particularly grasshoppers, and as
such would be useful to the farmer. The
female lays from 15 to 20 eggs for a
“clutch,” but raises only one brood in a
year. Foxes, hawks and owls are dead-
ly enemies, but it would be the business
of the farmer to protect the birds from
those foes, as he does in the case of his
farm-yard poultry. As for human poach-
ers, adequate laws for protection against
them would have to be passed, but the
sportsmen, if once they became interest-
ed in the matter, could be relied upon to
exert in this direction a powerful influ- |
ence which has never yet failed of suc-'
cess in affairs of the kind. |
It seems difficult to realize that less |
than 100 years ago wild tutkeys were so |
abundant that they often sold for six
cents apiece, a very large one, weighing
25 or 30 pounds, occasionally fetching as
much as a quarter of a dollar. To-day
a large specimen, gobbler preferred, is
worth $6. The species has been wiped
out not by sportsmen, but by pot-hunt-
ers, who kill the birds on the roosts, trap
them in pens, or lie in ambush for them
attracting them within easy shooting dis-
tance by imitating the call of the hen or
the young “poult.”
most beautiful of birds, its feathers blaz-
ing with metallic reflections of gold,
green, blue and bronze.— Rene Rache.
Franklin’s Account of Thanksgiving.
“Being piously disposed, they sought
relief from heaven by laying their wants
and distresses before the Lord in fre-
quent set days of fasting and prayer.
onstant meditation and discourse on
these subjects kept their minds gloomy
and discontented; and, like the children
of Israel, there were many disposed to
return to that Egypt which persecution
had induced them to abandon.
“At length, when it was proposed in
the afsembly to proclaim another fast, a
farmer of plain sense rose and remarked
that the inconveniences they suffered,and
concerning which they had so often
wearied heaven with their complaints,
were not so great as they might have
expected and were diminishing every
day as the colony strengthened; that the
earth began to reward their labor and to
furnish liberally for their subsistence;
that the seas and rivers were found full of
fish, the air sweet, the climate healthy,
and, above all, that they were there in
the full enjoyment of liberty, civil and
religious; he, therefore, thought that re-
flecting and conversing on these subjects
would be more comfortable, as tending
more to make them contented with their
situation, and that it would be more be-
coming the gratitude they owed thedivine
being if, instead of a fast, they should
proclaim a Thanksgiving.
“His advice was taken, and from that
day to this they have, in every year, ob-
served circumstances of felicity suffi-
cient to furnish employment for a
Thanksgiving day, which is, therefore,
constantly ordered and religiously ob-
served.” :
SOUGHT ROOM IN TOWN JAIL
Weary Traveler Mistook Prison for
the Leading Hotel to Which He
Was Directed.
Marvin Charles of Buffalo is a
stranger in Georgetown, and when he
got off the train at Georgetown about
eight o’clock at night he hardly knew
which way to turn from the depot. He
was tired, hungry and dirty and he
wanted to hurry to a hotel where he
could wash, get his supper and then
seek his room for sleep.
Charles inquired of the first man he
met as to where he could find a hotel.
The man described the big hotel of
the town, and told Charles to walk
down the main street to the big brick
house with a porch on it.
Charles walked down until he came
to such a house and then walked in. A
heavy-set man in his shirt sleeves met
him and inquired his busimsess, and
then nearly fell over when Charles
asked for a room. He carefully ex-
plained to Charles that he was the
sheriff and that Charles had wandered
into the county jail."
Charles walked another block and
arrived at the real hotel.—Georgetown
(Del.) Dispatch to Philadelphia Rec-
ord.
Need for Stronger Roads.
Motor trucks are now made of such
great capacity that they are proving
a serious strain on the roads and
highways, so that in many states
there are regulations controlling their
movement, limiting their speed and
weight. An experimental grooved
concrete track is being tried on a
long private right of way between
Pittsburg, Kan., and Fort Scott, Kan.
Trucks and cars desiring to use this
road can do so on paying a small toll.
The road is fitted with cement or con-
crete tracks, twelve inches wide and
concaved so that the wheels of an au-
tomobile will stay in them. It is a
single-track line, with switches at cer-
tain points, to allow machines to pass
| each other. If this road is successful
it will be extended to Kansas City.
Imposing Roll of Honor.
The Cunard line is to perpetuate the
memory of its officers and other em-
ployees who have served with distinc-
tion in the war. It has provided for an
imposing roll of honor, destined for a
prominent positton in the new build-
ings at the Pierhead, Liverpool. With
filled to brimming over with all kinds of
nuts. On one edge of the pumpkin a lit-
tle toy squirrel should be fastened so that
{ he appears to be sitting up, considering
! the feast before him. Cunning plush
| squirrels can be bought at toy stores.
Use plate doilies of bright-colored
, autumn leaves, and at each ofthe four
‘corners of the table place a low old-
fashioned stone crock, wreathed about
with autumn leaves until almost the en-
‘ tire surface of the crockery is hidden.
From the broad mouth of each crock a
mass of scarlet berries trails over the
' edge and mingles with the red and yel-
| low leaves about the sides. If you possess
, several little white birch baskets, they
| make pretty dishes for raisins, stuffed
i dates, and old-fashioned striped pepper-
mint candy.
At each corner put a yellow chrysan-
themum with one end of a narrow yel-
low ribbon tied to the stem and the other
end stretching to the center of the table,
where it is fastened to a tiny toy tur-
key. These turkeys can be bought at
almost any candy shop and should be
filled with dainty green after-dinner
mints. If it is a large dinner party there
will be a regular flock of turkeys tether-
ed by their gay ribbons, to be given as
favors at the end of dinner.
At each place for the first course, is a
tiny bowl formed of the rind of half an
orange. (This can easily be separated
from the fruit by placing the orange in
the oven until the rind stiffens, when it
can be cut about the middle with a sharp
knife, and stripped off without injury.)
These orange bowls are filled with SCOoOop-
ed out sections of grapefruit and orange,
with a few candied cherries and white
grapes topping off the whole, and powder-
ied sugar sprinkled over it at the last
' minute.
| -
| “Indians and Pilgrims” is a good game
| for Thanksgiving day, for in it we play
i what really and truly happened years
and years ago when Thanksgiving day
i was first appointed. To play the game
(all thatis needed is a large sheet of
| paper and a couple of pencils. The play-
| ers are divided into two sides,the Indians
{ and the Pilgrims.
| On the left hand side of the paper, up
| toward the top, make sixty dots, ten in a
; row and six rows,and in the lower corner
i of the same side draw a cannon as well
asyoucan. Do the same on the right
hand side of the paper, and you are ready
to start playing. One person from, say,
: the Indians’ side starts with her pencil
, on her cannon, keeping her eyes tightiy
‘closed, and draws either a straight or
crooked line, just as she please, over the
Pilgrims’ men or dots. When she has
| taken up her pencil she counts the num-
| ber of men she has passed over or “kill-
i ed” and puts that number down on the
| score cards in favor of the Indians. Then
i one from the Pilgrims’ side takes her
turn, and so on until one side has scored
60 points, which ends the game. You
| can mark some of the dots with red or
| blue pencil for chief or commanders, and
if one of those is touched by a pencil
; line it counts three, so that it is not nec-
| essary to kill every single man before
' the game can be won. A dot once gone
over cannot be counted a second time,
as that man is considered dead, and in
drawing a line you must keep on in the
same direction, although the line may be
zig-zagged—that is, if you start out to-
ward the right you can turn back toward
the left and so on.
Another game or rather trick to play
on Thanksgiving is to make a number
of tissue paper bags, say one apiece, and
fill them with candy, nuts or raisins. Fill
one or two of them with flour instead of
those things. Tie them up with ribbons
and hang them on the chandeliers or
doorways. Then blindfold each person
in turn and let each one try to find a bag
i and break it open with a stick or cane.
If she succeeds the contents of the bag
are hers. If it should be the flour she
i will get covered with that and be laugh-
i ed at for her pains.
The best part of this is that no one
| knows who is going to knock the ones
: filled with flour, as after they are blind-
‘folded each person must be turned
around and around until she doesn’t have
| any idea in which direction she is going.
| So, even if she knew where the bags of
flour were hanging, she couldn’t tell
‘whether she was going toward one or
not. Better still, have some one who is
not going to try hang up the bags.
A Thanksgiving Dinner. Sixty Years
Ago.—For the benefit of the young peo-
ple of the family and as a study of the
times that are past, living only in the
memory of our grandparents, a house
mother who had been interested in re-
viewing history with the schoolgirls in
is no worse.” 5 cheeks. “The Lord knowed Mattie On Fisher's Island, in Long Island | its massive gold frame it measures her immediate circle planned this dinner,
“No worse!” he exclaimed. “Well, I|didn’t have nothin’ but a dugout here, bush Safa ia ud 2 bushels ‘on Sound, a most interesting experiment | Some 8 by 4 feet. It contains some to be served on Thanksgiving day. A
should say this was bad enough. But {and he’s give her a mansion over yonder. mrs has already been made in the rearing of | 5600 names, including those of nine cap- | beloved grandmother outlined the feast;
then that is just like Mary —always look- | And now, mister, can’t you offer prayer?” For high class Job Work come to | turkeys under semi-domestication— tains, 109 officers, nine apprentices, 82 | the mother, assisted by the girls, carried
ing on the bright side of things. Here I|- Thornton shook his head. It would the W Offi though in this case the species dealt with engineering officers, 30 pursers, 9 doc- | Out the details. A sure-enough country
have spent my time thinking how much | seem like mockery for him to pray to | “0¢ WATCHMAN Office. is the tame one. On this island, which tors and 250 of the clerical staff A | turkey was ordered in the summer from
better it might have been. ; the Father whom he had forgotten so The First Thankseiv is the most successful turkey farm in t 1 of h hash a man who promised to give this partic-
As he went back to the train he long. While one waited on the other, a e First Thanksgiving. the world, the birds are permitted to run | S6Parate roll of honor has been pre- ular bird extra care. It was stuffed
thought several times he heard some one rough cowboy who had been standing in — pared for the catering department with oysters and chestnuts, and a chain
calling in the distance. At last he gave
a long shrill whistle, and there came
back a faint cry of “Help.” This inter-
ested Thornton at once, and borrowing
a pair of snowshoes from a section hand,
he set out across the prairies.
Near the edge of a strip of timber in a
little ravine he saw a mover’s wagon
with a ragged canvas cover. At the
sound of footsteps two curly brown heads
were thrust out, and a childish voice ex-
claimed, “If you please, sir, are you the
man God sent?”
“I am sure I don’t know,
What do you mean?”
“Oh, papa said he knowed God would
send somebody, an’ I s’posed you’s the
one.”
Just then Thornton saw what he had
not noticed before. Behind the wagon
the snow was cleared away and a hole
little girl.
the background. made his way to the
front.
“Boys,” he said, “I ain’t no preacher,
an’ I'm a poor weak Christian at the
best. But I sometimes try, in my awk-
ward way to talk to my Father. Let us
pray,” and he raised his hand reverently
over the open grave.
“Lord, we're all miserable sinners,” he
said. “We don’t feel we're fit to come
to you, but we know you're willing to
hev us come just as we are. Some of us
ain’t thought about you these many
years. We've been thinking we could
live without you. Mebbe some of us
has tried to believe there wasn’t no
Heavenly Father, no hereafter, no noth-
in’! But now we've come to a time
when we need you. We want you right
close to us, s0’s you can make it all light
where it’s so dark. We ain't weepin’ fer
In the fall of 1621 Governor Bradford
set apart a day for Thanksgiving. The
Pilgrims had had a fruitful summer.
Their corn had yielded a good crop.
Deer and wild fowl were plenty, and
there were fish in the sea in great abun-
dance. So they kept their Thanksgiving
with feasting. And this was the first of
a long line of New England Thanksgiv-
ings which have been kept each year
since that time.
Squanto was one of their Indian friends.
He taught them when to plant their
corn. When the leaves on the oak tree
were the size of a mouse’s ear, then was
the time. He told them, too, drop a
fish into each hill of corn to enrich it
and make it grow. For Englishmen did
not know much about Indian corn in
those days.
wild, and are not even furnished with
any shelter, other than they can find
among the trees and scrub. But plenty
of corn is thrown about where they can
et it,
2 In this artificial wilderness, as it might
be called, which covers an area of about
4000 acres, the turkeys get as close to
nature as possible. Indeed the whole
idea of their management is to let them
alone, interfering with them as little as
possible. In the winter time their heads
often freeze under their wings when they
are at roost. But the exposure does
them no harm; on the contrary, it ren-
ders them exceedingly vigorous, and they
attain huge size, the gobblers sometimes
weighing as much as 50 pounds when
sent to market.
Every spring a few wild gobblers, trap-
ped for the purpose in Virginia or the
of the Cunard company, and now con-
tains within a few of 400 names.
Blames It on War.
A factory for the manufacture of
tinfoil caps or coverings of different
colors and lettering for use in cov-
ering the mouths and necks of bottles
has been established in Santiago, Chile,
The daily capacity of the factory is
about fifty thousand caps. Formerly
these coverings were imported from
Germany and France, but owing to dif. |
ficulties in making the importations
since the outbreak of the European
war is was considered advisable to es-
tablish this factory to supply the local
demand.
of tiny sausage was put around its neck.
The table had a centerpiece of fall vege-
| tables, with candles in brass holders.
First clam broth was served, then cream-
ed. fish in clam shells—baked in the shell,
after the manner of the pilgrim fathers 3
the turkey followed with squash. Irish
and sweet potatoes, celery, cranberry
jelly, damson plum preserves, cucumber
pickles, thin slices of brown and white
bread, coffee with the meal, and all the.
vegetables placed on the table at once.
No place cards and no salad; the dessert
was pumpkin and apple pie, cheese, fruit,
nuts, and raisins, with cider. Grand-
, mother made her delicious pound cake
for which she was famous fifty years
ago. The repast was strictly en famillie;
the maid had the day, and the girls dress-
ied in costumes such as were in vogue
ee — Carolinas, are introduced into the flocks | sixty years ago. Grandmother renewed’
had been dug that looked very much this good woman that’s gone, fer we be-| ——They are all good enough, but the | on Fisher's Island, to contribute fresh | her youth, and every one had a beauti.
like a grave. A man was standing near | lieve she’s ready for the change. But, WATCHMAN is always the best. blood. This is esteemed a matter of the ——Subscribe for the WATCHMAN. ful time,