Day THANKSGIVING ECHOES. i. The turkey was tender and all In place; I did the carving and alio said grace. Kissed her, too- and she did not grieve: "Lord make us thankful for what we reoeivel" 11. Did you ever see a possum wid a hide like dat? W'y, de grease is jes' a gleumin on de side so fat! Ask a hlessin, Brudder Johnson, 'fo' de cere monies start. En swipe 'im troo de backbone, en carve 'im to do hart! THAT PUMPKIN PIE. In a down town restaurant in Chicago John Gilmore sat at dinner. With a very discontented expression of countenance he was "jabbing" with his fork a piece of pumpkin pie which be had just ordered, seemingly determined that that particular piece should never know anot her victim. Ilis thoughts ran somewhat on this wise: "Call that pumpkin piel A yellow skin over a piece of soggy dough!" Then, through the association of ideas, his thoughts turned to that home in Ohio t.'here his mother, atthisseiisonof the year, always served daily the luscious pie, rich as new milk, fresh eggs and golden pump kin could make it. But that home was broken up, and all its inmates scattered; none of the numer ous kiufolk near the old place but Aunt Sally Penrose, while he, after ten years of struggle in the modern Babylon—Chicago —at the age of thirty, was only just begin ning to catch a glimpse of the way to for tune. Fame he never expected. Then his mind reverted to the stabbed pie, and he said to himself, for he never condescended to scold waiters about things for which they were not responsible, being a gentle man: "I can't eat this; it's more than hu man stomach can endure. I believe I will go back to Brookvilie and see the old place and dear old Aunt Sally. Next week is Thanksgiving, and I can manage to get off two or three days. I'll never marry until I can find a woman who can make pumpkin pies as my mother could." With a final critical glance at the of fending food, he took his hat and departed. That evening he wrote to his aunt telling her of his intended visit, and in due time received a reply so kind and cordial that it warmed his rather lonely heart and touched his conscience for not having gone before. Thanksgiving morning John Gilmore was awakened by the unwonted sound of crowing cocks and lowing cows. For a few moments lie was dazed; then he remem bered that the night before he had reached Brookville, had been met at the stat ion by his uncle James and taken to the farm on the edge of the little village, had sat late talking to his aunt, and, finally, when snugly ensconsed between the white sheets, had fallen into such a dreamless sleep as he had not known in years. After breakfast Aunt Sally said: "John, it's union service today, and will be held in the Methodist church. Our preacher will preach—the Presbyterian. You'll go, won't you?" John hesitated, and then said "Yes." He had some thought of taking a long walk through the leafless wood, where in boy hood he had known every nook and corner. The day was so bright, the air so crisp that it was a great piece of self denial to give it up. But as he had to stay till the fast express Sunday night he concluded to spend an orthodox Thanksgiving—preach ing, dinner and all. He hadn't heard any old fashioned preaching lately. To be sure, he had every Sunday heard Professor Hope discuss the questions—political ami secular—which had interested the public during the preceding week, but, barring the text.it bore very little relation to its antiquated relative, the "Gospel sermon." Arrived at the church, he found himself seated well up in front. His aunt bowed and smiled to many; he saw no familiar face. His manhood had been employed in the great struggle for foothold, so that his old friends had been dropped, and he had not formed many new acquaintances. In this atmosphere of homely, cheery friendliness he felt like an intruder. Just hack of the preacher was seated the choir, composed of the members of all the different churches in the village. He was pleased with the sensation of interest the pretty, fresh faces of the girls gave him. He joined in the singing of "Coronation" and other old hymns, and listened to the sermon, appar ently as interested as any one there. It was a simple effort, suited to the occasion and the hearers, hut by its absence of pre tension it refreshed him. At the close a general handshaking was indulged in, and he was introduced to many persons who had known his father and mother. "John," said Aunt Sally, "it's our turn this year to go to Mrs. Gray's to dinner. We take year about—the Grays, Steels and our folks—so if you will you may just walk over with the other young folks through the meadow and we will take Cncle Billy Gregg home in your place. I was so flur ried last night I forgot to tell you." John, when he found it was an estab lished custom, made no demur, but said: "Certainly, aunt. I would be delighted to walk through the meadow, but you must introduce me to my companions. I don't know them even by sight." "To be sure you don'tl" exclaimed Aunt Sally. "Ruth, Ruth," she called, and a nice, quiet looking girl stepped forward and said, holding out her hand: "How do you do, Aunt Sally? You are going over to dinner, aren't you? Mother is expect ing you." "Oh, yes, but here, I want to introduce you to my nephew, John Gilmore. John, this is Ruth Gray. It is to her house we are going," she explained tc him; "she will take care of you, and make you ac quainted with the other young folks." John, who was unaccustomed to the so ciety of young ladies, instead of making complimentary speeches about her guar dianship, bowed gravely and walked by her side across the road to the big gate which led into the meadow. He opened it and let her through, and found himself with her following a small procession, which proved to be the "other young folks." Ruth at first felt shy of him, as he was a city man, but soon concluded he was bash ful, and then, being naturally kind heart ed, set herself to entertaining him by talk ing of the sermon, the weather and other commonplace topics until they reached the old fashioned farmhouse. The dinner was a brave affair. The guests, some twenty or thirty, sat at one long table, graced with turkey, of course, cranberry sauce, potatoes, white and light as a snow mound, half a dozen kinds of vegetables, stands of plumy celery, lus clous jelly, preserves of every kind and cakes; in fact, all the prodigal profusion of a country Thanksgiving dinner. To John the crowning glory was a goodly ar ray of pumpkin pies which graced the sidehoflrd. Ruth, with two of her young friends, waited on tht m all, handing the coffee, heaping the plates and cutting the pie. This last operation John watched with interest, for pumpkin pie cannot be cut properly by a careless hand. Ruth cut it with two quick strokes, leaving a clean edge of delicious custard and an unbroken crust. After the repast John, whose reserve had thawed under the influence of the good things of which he had partaken, said to Mrs. Gray: "You must let me thank you for that delicious pumpkin pie. It was as good as my mother's, and that is the highest praise I could bestow." Mrs. Gray looked pleased and said: "I'm glad you liked it. Ruth made it; she was up at 5 o'clock, so as to have them fresh. She says W there is anything detestable it isa pumpkin pie with crust soaked till it is soggy." The older folks had assembled in the parlor, but the younger people who had eaten remained in the dining room for the fun of waiting on the "waiters," which John soon discovered and thought he would like to try. He found his way back, and was soon busy filling the plate of Ruth, whom he had elected to serve, so full that she laughed and said, "Mr. Gil more, you must have a great opinion of my powers of digestion." He looked a lit tle teased as he contemplated the pyramid he had just constructed, took the vacant seat at her side and said to her: "I thought you might have uu appetite. Making pies at 6 o'clock in the morning is hungry work." "Did mother tell you that?" she asked. "No, I asked her—in a manner." "I had my breakfast afterward," said Ruth, "but you may bring me a piece of pie now, if you please." He went to the sideboard to do her bid ding. As ill luck would have it there was none cut, so he took the knife in his un skillful hand and held fast to the plate, but not to the pie, which went slipping to the floor, spattering him well initsdescent. Ruth, who had been watching him, saw the mishap, which none of the others had noticed, came quickly to the rescue, and soon had the pie deftly cleaned up and in the kitchen, where she indulged in the laugh which her politeness and sympathy for his discomfiture forbade, and no one the wiser. "You may he a good lawyer, but you are a poor butler," remarked Ruth. The rest of the afternoon was spent in walking about the fields and eating nuts around the fire. But the best part of the day was the evening, for it was the custom of these good people to stay till 10 o'clock. The long kitchen was cleared, and every one, old and young, played games—"Puss in the Corner," "Blind Man's Buff" and such like. Ruth was blindfolded. Such scam pering and giggling, as she dashed wildly around the room! With arms uplifted she brought them down on the shoulders of John, who, to tell the truth, made nogreat effort to escape. With one hand she clasped his neck affectionately, while the other slid down his nose till it struck his mus tache. This settled the question of his identity, as he was the only person present so adorned. With her hand still uncon sciously about his neck she took the hand age off her eyes, while he, with an audaci ty new to him, said softly, "A delightful situation—if it could only last longer." Ruth, becoming conscious of it, blushed brightly and withdrew her hand. "Turnaround; you are caught; have to be 'it,' " quoth Ruth. "Yes, and by you," he softly answered, as he turned to have the handkerchief bound over liis eyes, enjoying the sensation of making a pretty girl blush and his own newly acquired boldness. The next day, as in duty bound, John called on his late hostess, found Ruth at home and persuaded her to walk with him i through the leafless woods, which, to a true lover of nature, are almost as pleas urable as in. their early leafing. He showed her where he had played in his boyhood, told her of his childish pranks and some- , thing of his present mode of life. In the interchange of confidences she told him that she taught in the little white school j house at the forks of the Madisonville road; of her experiences at normal school, and of her home life. In that one short afternoon they learned more of each other's tastes and habits than they could have done in a dozen casual meetings. On their return John had obtained Rut h's promise to go with him to the old red bridge, the scene of many a former fishing bout. On Sunday John dutifully went to church, where he saw Ruth in the choir, and, as it sat just hack of the preacher, he got great credit for paying strict attention to the sermon. At the close he wulked with her through the meadow, and, on parting at her own door, thus uddressed her: "Who would think we met for the first time only three days ago? It seems to me I have known you a year." "And I you," rejoined Kuth, holding out her hand in parting. "As you'll not come In—good by." If kissing hands had not been so long obsolete that hand would iiave received a goodly number, hut John contented him self with a squeeze, painful to Ruth, but borne heroically. That night, as the midnight train whistled at the station, one sweet country maiden said to herself, "I wonder if I will ever see him again." And then, having formed this good habit, fell soundly asleep among her pillows. And John the long night through made pluns to see her again, till the train drew into the station at Chicago and busi ness replaced fientiment. A few days later Ruth received by mail a letter and small package. The package proved to be a book; the letter, an apology for sending the former. John wrote: "I saw this little book, and the poem where the leaf is turned down reminded me so strongly of our delightful walks together that I ventured to send it. Will you assure me of your forgiveness by one line, telling me you received it?" The poem was Lucy Larcom's "Novem ber." The first verse of it brought smiles and blushes to Ruth's face: Who said November's face was grim? Who said her voice was harsh aud sad? I heard her sing in wood paths dim; I met her on the shore, so glad. So smiling, I could kiss her feet I There never was a month so sweet. The letter of forgiveness was duly sent, daintily sealed with wax showing the ira priut, "Forget me not," above the initials "R. G." This injunction John followed so faith fully that the mail at Brookville increased to such an extent that it has hopes of be coming a fourth class office. Before the "frost was on the punkin" the next year Ruth was mistress of a cozy flat in Chicago, and John the head of that same establishment. —Sidney Kuox in Chi cago Ijedger. THANKSGIVING AT WOLFVILLE. The War A* Ilurled and Red Dog Invited to Help Celebrate the Day. "Thanksgivin, ain't it?" said theold cat tleman, beginning to fill his faithful cob pipe preparatory to a talk. "They have big goins on now at this ycre hostelry I abides at. Flour doins an chicken fixins— all the scrollwork they thinks of, I reckon. I remembers bavin Thanksgivin down in Wolfville once; which it was a success, but differin plenty from this yere. " 'Gents,' says Enright one evenin, gath erin of us into the Red Bight, 'there's a matter eoneernin of this yere camp in a body I wants to speak of. " 'What I'm thinkin of, gents, is this: 1 notices tomorry is Thanksgivin by a paper Old Monte brings in from Tucson. Now the simple question is, he we in this; an if 30, what form the orgy takes?' "'Whut's the matter hoppin over an shootin up Red Dog?' says Dan Boggs. 'That outfit of tarrapins ain't been shook up none for three months.' '"Techni'cle speakin says Doc Peets, which he was shurely the longest headed man I ever sees, 'shootin up Red dog, while it's all right as a proposition an liighly creditable to Mr. Boggs, is not a Thanks givin play. The game played strict, con fines itse'f toeatin an drinkin.' "'I assooms it's the will of this yere meeting says Enright, 'an tharfore app'ints Doc Peets, Cherokee, an Boggs to wait on Kiss Rucker at the Garfield restaurant an learn what for a banquet she can rustle us tomorry an go the limit.' "The committee comes back after a little an allows Miss Rucker reports herse'f a little shy on viands on account of the freighters not comiu in from Tucson. " 'But,' says Peets, 'she's able to make a strong play with salt boss an baked beans, with coffee an biscuits for games on the side.' " 'That's good enuf,' says Jack Booth, 'an any man who thinks he wants more is a victim of whims.' "While we was all discussin of the ar rangements for the feast we years a clatter of pony hoofs and a wild yell outside an looks up, an thar's a big, shaggy lookin vagrant a-settin on his hoss in front of the Red Bight's door. " 'Get an ax, somebody,' he shouts, 'an widen this yere door a lot. I aims to come in on .iny boss.' " 'Hands up thar!' says Jack Booth, on iimberin his artillery like a flash; 'hands up! I ll jest fool you up about comin in on your hoss. You jest make one wink too many now, an I puts a new hole in your face right over the eye.' " 'Go slow, Jack,' says Enright. 'Who may you be?' he goes on to the locoed man on the hoss. " 'Me?' says the locoed man. 'l'm Red Dog Jim. Tell that sot,' he continers, p'intin to Booth, 'to put down his gun an not offer it at me no more. He's a heap too vivid with that gun, he is. Only I'm a white winged harbinger of peace, I shore ups an makes him eat all the wood offen it.' " 'Well! whatever you he thirstin for any how?' says Ennright. 'Come ridin in yere like you ain't got no respect for nuthin. Is this yere a friendly call, or he you present on a theory you're goin to tree this town?' " 'l'm the Red Dog committee on invita tions,' he says. 'Red Dog sends its coinps an says you all bury the hatchet for one day in honor of tomorry bein Thanksgivin, an come feed with us.' " 'Bet's go liiin,' says Dan Boggs. " 'Now stand your hand a second,' says Enright. 'Don't let's overlook no bets yere. Whatever has you Red Dog folks got to eat, anyhow?' " 'Ain't got nuthin to eat much—maybe some can stuff,' says the Red Dog man. 'But we has liquid; no limit.' " 'Got any can tomatters?' says Boggs. " 'Can tomatters we're speshul strong on,' says the Red Dog man. 'lt's our long suit.' " 'You go back to Red Dog,' says En right, 'an tell 'em we burys de war ax for one day, an to come over an smoke ponies with us, instead of we come thar. We're goin to have baked beans an salt hoss, an we looks for Red Dog in a body-. Next Thanksgivin we eats in Red Dog. Does this yere go?' " 'lt goes,' says the Red Dog man. "The next day Miss Rucker sets tables all over her dinin room an brings on her beans. Eighteen Red Dog men is thar, each totin of a can of tomatters for Dan too. We never Ims a more free an peace fuler day than this yere Thanksgivin.' " 'The beans is a little hard, ain't they?' says Doc Peets, bein' perlite like. 'Maybe they don't get biled enuf.' " 'These beans is all right,' says the boss war chief of the Red Dog men. 'They be a little hard, but you can't he'p it.' " 'Gents, continued the boss Red Dog man, staudin up, 'I offers the toast- Wolf ville an Red Dog; now an right along.' "Of course we drinks to this yere, an Doc Peets makes a big speech, in which he speaks mighty high of everybody, which of course compliments you gets big action on in sech a game. The Red Dog chief he talks an calls Wolfville an Red Dog great commercial centers, which they shore are. He says we'll be friendly today an fight the rest of the year, 'cept Fourth July an Christinas, which we all agrees to cordial. When he sits down there's thunders of ap plause. "Well, we eats un drinks ull we can, au then goes over to the hurdy gurdy an whoops it up with a dance iu honor of the Red Dog men. Nuthin could be better or go smoother. When it comes time to quit we has a little trouble gittin separate from 'em, but not much. We starts out to 'scort 'em to Red Dog as a gy'ard of honor, an then they, hustin with perliteness, 'scorts us hack to Wolfville. Then we ull, not to be raised out, sees 'em home to Red Dog ugin, and not to have the odd hoss onto 'em in the matter, buck agin they comes with us." I don't kuow jest how often we do make this yere round trip from one camp to t'other, 'cause my memory is some dark ou the latter events of that Thanks givin. I knows my pony gets tired of It about the eighth time back an humps his disgusted back an bucks me off. Of course ; I don't go with our Red Dog friends no farther, hut jest camps down hack the mesquite hush I lights into an sleeps till mornin. It was a great Thanksgivin."— Dun Quin in Chicago Tribune. The Turkey an American Illrd. The turkey was in colonial days exclu sively an inhabitant of North America, but in its wild state, and the stories told that Governor Bradford's foraging party went out to nay a friendly visit to any neighboring barnjard are erroneous. The ; American wfia turkey does not frequent i barnyards, kit dwelt in the green woods, and the party that went out with the in tention to go "fowling" went out as a mat ter of fact shooting. History does not chronicle anything about their marksmanship or just how many turkeys they brought down or whether they bought any on the way. Suf fice it to say that the party returned and brought a lot of turkeys with them.—New Yp/k Mail aiid Express, I • TN THE OLDEN TIME. j THANKSGIVING FESTIVITIES IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. In a Letter to Her Friend an English I Maiden Describes the Holiday in Bos- I ton—lncidentally tlie "Old, Old Story," as Told In 1000. I The following letter was found among I ;he papers in an old country house and j copied by the writer: Prom Alice Barton t< Mistress Olive Kerriaon, I Thursday, :Jlst day of November, MDCXC. 1 SWEETEST OLIVE—It is the close of the first day in thin New Boston, and I take ! this opportunity of telling you how I have | fared. The voyage was an exceedingly | pleasant one had my heart not been made I heavy with the loss of old friends and the dread I had of this New World, for I had many apprehensions of evil. My Undo met me at the port and conveyed me home, Where I met my Aunt Faith. I have he fore told you their story, how my uncle was disinherited because he wedded one of the seditious sect of Lackers, and how Aunt Faith was disowned because she married out that body, so the twain came to America. I am much affected by her calm sweetness, and there is such appar ent love betwixt my uncle anil herself that I would fain be loved us she is. But I would not have you; Olive, let others know that I have such unmaidenly thoughts. My aunt sent me ut once to rest, saying: "Thee must he up betimes, dear, for the morrow is the Thanksgiving." "What is this Thanksgiving, Aunt Faith?" I asked. "We return thanks for gracious preser vation, for our mercies have been great, dearest." In the morning there seemed a strange air of hustle in the large kitchen whither Aunt Faith led me, what with cooking strange dishes such as I had never before seen. While we were yet breaking our fast, ray uncle's kinsfolk and thine, Master and Mistress Tafton, with their son Roger, came for the day. I had much curiosity to see Roger, because of bis let ters to thee. He is indeed well favored, and hath a comely countenance, although his dress is not such as I have been wont to see, being coarser. Yet the brown doublet and small clothes woven and mude by the huuds of Mistress Tafton were well fitting, and the buckles on his shoes were of chaste appearance. Mistress Taf ton wore a camlet gown, fashioned some what like my own, having three ruffles Upon the sleeves. I noted that her shoes were more pointed than mineand the heels exceedingly high. Indeed in looking at the women in the church I noted that they were scarce five months behind the fashion of London. We walked to the new North church—all but Aunt Faith, who had the care iif the dinner upon her—where we heard Dr. Cot ton Mather preach. Methought the ser mon long and wearisome, but ray uncle and Roger were well pleased, because he advocated toleration for all Quakers and Anabaptists. A maiden, however, knows naught of such deep thoughts, and I longed for our dear liturgy. Roger and 1 walked together, anil he showed me much of tlie town on the homeward way. I was inwardly much amused because he seemed to think the town was of size with London. He showed to me the new court house, also the house of Master Cotton, whom be says all men hold in reverence. We passed the new grammar school, which seemeth small to me after those in London. But there are many fine mansions, with over hanging stories and with great banks- Roger says Io protect from Indians. We also passed the new feather store, said to bo the finest in Boston. Meanwhile Roger discoursed much upon the new college at Hartford, at which he is a student, seeming to think it even su perior to English colleges. He did, how ever, regret that they could not purchuse more modern authors; consequently the style of American writers was inferior. He told me, moreover, a sad story of Mistress Dustan, who was to dine at our bouse that day, and whose face looked full of care. All her family had been slain by Indians, even to her young babe, and she dragged from a sickbed, forced to walk with them till they had gone over 100 miles, her nurse being with her. One night, when all were asleep, she, with her nurse and an English boy, did kill all eleven Indians, and so escaped back to Bos ton. Because of her bravery the assembly gave her fifty pounds, besides gifts from friends. Aunt Faith had prepared a fine spread for the dinner, which is even as our Christmas. There were many dishes such as I had never seen. Turkey, most deli cate in flavor, pumpkin pie, beans, and bread made of a strange grain called Indian corn. Of it Roger told me that the blackbird brought the first grain and the crow the first bean, wherefore both were held sacred by the savages. There were also plum pudding and various other English dishes. There was much laughter and talk at the table, at which I was greatly surprised. Thence we went to the withdrawing room, where we all sat about the great fireplace roasting chestnuts and apples, while all talked. They related muny hunt ing stories and marvelous cures by the use of herbs. Those I will tell you hereafter. Then I read to them from The News letter and I,ondon Gazette that I had brought, and they asked me many questions about Lon don—more than a maiden could answer. So I took the virginals and sang English songs until the dusk fell, when there came a silence upon all, and 1 saw that Mistress Tafton was weeping because of home mem ories. Roger helped mqwith the songs, and his voice was uncommon full. Rut at last Master Tafton rose, saying the cattle needed to be cared for, and they departed, Mistress Tafton sitting on the pillion with her husband, and Roger looking noble and holding his seat as a knight would do. So endeth the first day, and it seemetli to me that the New World hath many pleasures. P. S.—The day following I open my let ter, though the carrier will be here shortly, to tell thee of the strange fortune that hath befallen me. This morning I was with Aunt Faith in the storeroom helping her to sort simples, when one of the maids told me t hat Roger Tafton awaited me in the withdrawing room. I had donned my green taffetas gown, and I felt that I was not un comely. As 1 entered Roger took my hands, saying: "Mistress Alice, I have come to ask thee to be my wife." Rut 1 was so astonished that I could but answer "Nay." "Rut it must be," he answered; "I have wrestled with the thought all night; sweet heart, I love thee; thou wilt not answer me amiss." So because lie would not have it nay, nud because my heart had strangely weakened toward him, 1 have promised to become his wife. Yours, in much haste, Boston. ALICE BARTON. —Elizabeth P. Todd iu Detroit News. SEAVE TWO DINNERS. 1 Turkey DOOM Not Make tlie 1 ay Unless the Poor Share It. 1 It is a good word to begin with. An : honest, hearty, cheerful, jovial, whole j souled straight forward Saxon word with a grateful meaning and an application big enough to go all around the human family, j It is not improbable that the average reader of this good word "thanksgiving" will find the concept of "turkey" sponta neously rising in his mind. This is an agreeable consequence of a national theory. Nobody need be told what a comfortable peace settles down upon the man who con fronts the sacrificial fowl of the season— the once proud aristocrat of the flock, now supine and still, with well browned skin, hot and hissing, and with uplifted legs adorned with fillets of parsley, lie feeds his sight, his smell and then bis yearning sense of taste, and he breaks his way through the crisp groves of the brittle celery, sounds the glowing depths of the cranberry sauce and of the rich dark gravy, dallies with the modest charms of the hum ble turnip, the succulent onions and the re liable potato, and works his will upon the i nutty sweetness of the fragment stuffing. And by the time he reaches the pleasant fields of pie, where the golden pumpkin, the well browned apple and the smoking, aromatic mince beguile his jaded palate, he sighs for the hunger which but lately spurred him on, and then a calm content steals over him and he is thankful. Fate cannot harm him—he has dined that day. But we should try to bear in mind that the mere consuming of that noble bird and its atteudunt delicacies is not in itself an adequate giving of thanks. To congratu late ourselves on being better or better off than our neighbors is not grateful—it is merely pharisaic. Help somebody else to be thankful and you will gain more than you would believe perhaps to be thankful for yourself. Give somebody else a good din ner and you will find that a thanksgiving is never so full and hearty as when accom panied by a thank offering.—New York Sun. The Hletory of Thanksgiving. One of the great fete days of old Eng land and the most popular after Christ mas and May Day was the Harvest Home, a rural festival held at the close of harvest time. There were sports and gambols on the village green of every hamlet at these times, wrestling matches between the young men, feats of archery and dancing, followed by a bounteous feast, where a good deal of hearty food was consumed and a large quantity of beer was drank after the hearty English fashion. When we go back to the Sixteenth cen tury it is found to be filled up with fasts and thanksgivings, especially during the time of Queen Elizabeth. Under that gay and pageant loving sovereign it was ex pressly ordered that on Thanksgiving days no servile labor should be performed, and severe penalties were attached to the vio lation of this order. In 1509 Thanksgiving entered into Roga tion days, and it was ordered that thanks should then be offered "for the increase and abundance of his fruits upon the face of the earth." Early in the reign of King James the special thanksgivings had been incorporated into the prayer book. It was natural enough, therefore, that the early settlers should bring with them a traditional respect for days of thanksgiv ing.—New York Mail and Express. The King of Pies. Rome pies have the flavor of quinces and apples. Plums, peaches and prunes or the pumpkin as well; The odors they savor the youthful mind grap ples. Delighting the senses of taste and of smell. But the pie thnt is king is tboone that is made of The meat that is chopped with the cinnamon stick. That mystical mixture the doctors are 'fruid of— The jolly old mince with the raisins so thick. 'Tie half of the meal when you smell the pie baking— Those condiment spices pervade the whole air— 'Tis the sense that excites the delights of youth, making A graciouslike goodness and appetite rare. Here's to the Inventor of king of the pie kind, The Thanksgiving uilnee that the boys love so well; I know it's your fav'rite the same as it's my kind— The jolly old Thanksgiving mince and its smell. —H. S. Keller In West Shore. How to Cook a Turkey. How should a turkey be cooked? is a pertinent question just now. The first thing to do is, procure your turkey. After being properly drawn and thoroughly washed the dressing is prepared and placed inside the bird. The turkey should be properly basted, and care should be taken that the wings and legs are drawn close up to the body. Some women who consider themselves good cooks stew a turkey for half an hour before placing in the oven to roast. Others who are thought to be good in the culinary art think differently, and hold that after the dressing is in place and the basting is done the fowl should at once be placed in the pan and put in tlie oven. Turkeys should be roasted in a covered pan, in order that the steam may be made useful In the retention of the flavor. A turkey should be roasted about three hours. Why Blie Was Thankful. A story appropriate to the occasion Is told of the family whose custom was to ex pect from each individual member an ex pression of some definite blessing each had to be thankful for. As the turkey was carved into sections each, beginning with the oldest, expressed his or her dearest blessing. Finally it was tlie turn of the youngest member to tell her reason for being thankful. She was five years old. She had not considered the subject, and she was interested in the carving. She was pressed for an idea, and when it came it was to the main point. All in a breath she exclaimed, "Oh, I'm thankful we've got a turkey, and give me lots of stuffin, papal" That's the way with all of us—we are thankful for u turkey and we want "lots of stuffln." A Thanksgiving Prayer. Our thanks go up to God at this thanks i giving season, not for extraordinary mer i cies, but for the ordinary goodness of his | hand. There has been no peace after war, I no respite after pestilence, no escape from a great danger. Blessed is that people which has no extraordinary experiences, j but which develops in peace and prosper!- | ty and abundance the course of its own un eventful history.—New York Independent, i Poor Jack's Thanksgiving. Although there is no turkey there He thinks of old New England fare; Reminded of his childhood's scenes By "dinner b'iled" or pork and beans. -Judge, CASTOR IA for Infants and Children. "Caator I a is so well adapted to children that I recommend it as superior to any prescription known to me." H. A. ARCHER, M. D., 11l So. Oxford St., Brooklyn, N. Y. "The use of 'Castoria* is so universal and Its merits so well known that it seems a work of supererogation to endorse it. Few are the intelligent families who do not keep Castoria within easy reach." CARLOS MARTYN, D.D., New York City. Late Pastor Bloomingdale Beformed Church. THE CENTAUR COMPANY, 77 MURRAY STREET, NEW YORE. NINETEEN - YEARS - EXPERIENCE In Leatlier. Our stock is bound to go. There is nothing like slim figures to put it in motion. We have laid in a very large stock of seasonable goods. WE BOUGHT CHEAP—WE SELL CHEAP. A lot of goods turned quick at close margin is good enough for us. Now is the time to buy A No. 1 Goods —None Eetter on Earth At Very Close to Manufacturing Prices. We do business to live. We live to do business, and the way to do it is to oifer the very best grade of goods at prices that will make them jump. An extra large line of ladies' and gents' underwear just arrived. Call and see us. Thanking , you for past favors, we remain, yours truly, Geo. Chestnut, 93 Centre Street, Freeland. YOU WILL FIND US AT THE TOP IN THE CLOTHINCI LINE _ With more fresh styles, low priced attractions and ser viceable goods than ever. The big chance and the best chance to buy your fall clothing is now offered. Our enormous stock of seasonable styles is open and now ready. Such qualities and such prices have never before been offered in Freeland. A thoroughly first-class stock, combining quality and elegance with prices strictly fair. Come in at once and see the latest styles and most serviceable goods of the season in MEN'S, BOYS' AND CHILDREN'S CLOTHING, HATS, CAPS AND FURNISHING GOODS. The newest ideas, the best goods made, the greatest variety and the fairest figures. Everybody is delighted with our display of goods and you will b§. Special bar gains in overcoats. Remember, we stand at the top in style, qualifv and variety. JOHN SMITH, BIRKBEC VN R E L E C L K A, D . H. M. BRISLIN. 'UNDERTAKER AND HORSEMEN ALL KNOW TIIAT Wise's Harness Store Is still here and doing busi ness on the same old principle of good goods and low prices. "I wish I had one." HORSE : GOODS. Blankets, Buffalo Robes, Har ness, and in fact every thing needed by Horsemen. Good workmanship and low prices is my motto. GEO. WISE, Jeddo, and No. 35 Centre St. Advertise in the Tribune. 4 Castor la cures Colic, Constipation, Sour Stomach, Diarrhoea. Eructation, Kills Worms, gives sleep, and promotes di gestion. Without injurious medication. " For several years I have recommended your * Castoria, 1 and shall always continue to do so as it haa invariably produced beneficial results." EDWIN F. PARDEE, M. D., "The Winthrop," 125 th Street and 7th Ave., New York City. GO TO Fisher Bros. Livery Stable FOB FIRST-CLASS TURNOUTS j At Short Notice, for Weddings, Parties and funerals. Front Street, two square* below Froeland Opera Houae. B! RAILROAD SYSTEM. LEHIGH VALLEY lilfel I j t£-~ Anthracite coal tiled exclit- II - slvoly.iuaurlng cleanliness and Of comfort. Ahiunqeuent or Passenokr Trains. NOV. 16, 180. LEAVE FREELAND. 0.10. 5..J5, 0.40, 10.41 A. M., 13.35, I.SO. 2 4:1 SKO 4.. v., Il.il. 7.13, 847 I'. M„ for Drifton, Jeddo,' humbci yard, Stockton and lluzleton. to 10. I'.4d A. Si., 1.50, tt.rs 1 I*. SI., for Manch ( w v""a w "'. JleMtichcm, l'hlla., Eaaton New York ) 8 n ° connec " on tor del'nhla' f< " "''thlchcm, Easton and Pliila .SJTA' ! u>, l r; l "'A 3o M - < vl Highland Wi Los uo>.° "liven, Glon Summit, oKcs-Oarrc, Plttaton and L. and 11. Junction. SUNDAY TRAINS. i "dSiv"; i""' i'w 'l' M " for Drifton, Jeddo, Cumber v ard and lia/.leton. L M. for Delano, Malianoy City, Shen andoah, New York and Philadelphia. ARRIVE AT FREELAND. 5.50, 7.0k, 7.30, O.IS, 10.50 A. M„ 13.10. 1.15, 3 at 4.50, ..at and 8.117 P. M. from llazlcton, Stockl ton, Lumber Vald, Jeddo and Drifton. 7.30,11.18, 10.50 A. M., 13.10. 3.113, 4.50, 7.03 P M 1 from Delano, Malmuoy city and Micnaudoali (via New Boston Branch). I J',\" D. M. from New York. Easton, Philadelphia, Bethlehem, Allentown and Maueh Chunk, j h.lB and 10.50 A. M. from Easton, Philadel phia. Ikdhlehem and .Maueh Chunk, i 11.18, 10.41 A. M„ 3.43, 041 P. M. from White Haven, Glen Summit, Wilkes-Uarre, l'ittston and L. and 11. Junction (via Highland lirauch). SUNDAY TRAINS. 11.31 A. M and Ml P M. from llazlcton. Lumber \ urd, Jeddo and Drifton. 11.31 A. M. from Delano, llazlcton, Philadel • |>liia and ha.stnn. 3.31 P. M. from Pottsville and Delano. For further information inquire ot Ticket Agents. I. A. BWEIGABD, Gen. Mgr. j C. G. HANCOCK, Gen. Pass. Agt. Philadelphia, Pa. A. W. NONNEMACHEH, Ass't G. P. A., South Bethlehem, P
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers