Davenport Leader (Davenport, Okla.), Vol. 1, No. 30, Ed. 1 Thursday, November 24, 1904 Page: 3 of 7
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1 "Oh, well, Susan Jane, I've lost faith
^ In mankind in general. They just twist
I'- ; -J-; (\ 3 US round their fingers and, when tired at
\J u*J£lLk -4 rki<S kt <i the pastime, they untwist and throw us
. c , _ ' Y aside. 1 think John Moore needs dis- Q
A Story .tor a h^nksgiVing ti ciplining. Why did hs go 'way up there |
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By T. C. HARBAWGH
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OMB people have nothing to be
thankful for," taid Polly Baei
as she looked up from the oven
"Leastwise that's my opinion. Now
there's Susan Jane—"
Just then the door opened and a prhr
looking young woman, with a pretty
cap, almost spinster like in its simplicity
entered the room. It was Susan Jan<
herself.
"Did you want me. Polly ?"
"No; but I was just saying to Mrs
Darnell that some people haven't mucb
to be thankful for."
"I don't see why they have not. We
don't all see test alike, and our uceefc
aren't just the same."
"That's true, Susan Jane," remarket
Mrs. Darnell, who had just "dropped in,',
as was her invariable custom at leasi
every other day. "No doubt there will
be some thankless folks to-morrow, am:
I heard Mis? Jackson say yesterday that
she didn't see what Thanksgivings wel-;
for, unless every one could just natural-
ly enjoy 'em."
"That's a narrow-minded view ol
Thanksgiving, to say nothing againsi
Hester," returned Susan Jane. "Now
take my own rase for an example," and
the young woman r riled. "You know
that people will talk—"
"They always will, Susan Jane."
"Just be ;use it's their privilege. 1
suppose. Well, some one might say that
I have little reason to celebrate Thanks-
giving." Iiere she glanced demurely a!
Polly. "For you knew that John doesn't
write any more; at least, not as often a.
he used to," she corrected. "But it's
John's way—I presume."
"But. Susan Jane, you ought to tesch
him a lesson in manners. Now, there's
the young p?rson—"
"To be sure, Aunt Polly. i;v r.iv re •
where men starve and die, where they 0 2y J £. S 51 It, LLEWELLYN
become mere beasts, when he had you OOOOOCXDCOCCOOOOOCCOCCCCXXJO
to look after at home, Susan Jane?" i
"John wanted togo, afid I did not say I <cTTaHEY stoo(1 at a hIgh mansard
window ahd looked out through
i-i the tops cf bare branches. The
stars and the street lights blinked at
each other across the-cold, blue dis-
nay. You know the way of men, Mrs
Darnell. But there's the carrier!" and
Susan Jane left the house and eagerly
seized the letter which the B. P. D.
man extended from his vehicle.
She glanced at the postmark, changed
color twice in as many seconds and came
slowly towards the house.
"John?" queried Polly, as Susan Jane
croesed the threshold.
"John," simply answered the young
woman, a3 she slipped past the two
widows and entered her little room.
She did not emerge from the solitude
Si*
1%;,' "IP
lances. All of human history seemed
marching, ghostlike, through the pale
r.ight.
"This is Thanksgiving," she said.
"It, it, yes?" he asked, irrelevantly.
"What a little question in such a big
world," she replied evasively, and
then, "thanksgiving! I wonder if
everyone nowadays is not more re-
sentful for what he has not than
thankful for what he has?"
Her mood did not please him, be-
cause it did not include him, lor it ii:
rude to be impersonal when alona
with one man.
She leaned out over the window
ledge and drew a long breath: "On a
still, cold night like tills events of
SI'SAN JANE CAM E HACK
HOU.SK.
TO TI IK
'the young [ arson,'
if t:
jqo other catches in V : world. John—"
"He does write < - r:i. aally, the:;
does he?" interrupted Mrs. Darnell.
Susan Jane's countenance fell.
"You know, Susan Jane he hasn't
written for eight months," said Polly.
"He got the Klondike fever. Mrs. Dar-
nell, and I shouldn't be suri rised if he,
man like, for all me* are fickle, hasgiv-
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SOME I'EOI'KE HA\ I: NOTHING TO lit
THANKFl'K FOR.
en Susan Jane the go-by for anothergirl,
for I've read as how men get awfully
lonesome 'way up there."
"It's too bad, but Just like some men,"
sympathized the visitor. "Now, there's
Daisy Marshal—"
"Pardon me, but Daisy's is no paral-
lel case," gently broke in Susan Jane.
"I haven't lost faith in John, whatever
you women may 1111111; ot ins silence.
"But you'll admit that you have no
cause to b« thankful this time?"
of her chamber until after Mrs. Darnell
b«5 ta- • n fctr dtr«i -tare. Pclly did not
. .t- her, r.: aer lace w as strangely
pale and something t listened in her deep
'orov.u ejes. ■
That night no one ventured to ques-
tion Susan Jane about the letter. 11
she had a secret she carried it in her
own bosom, and the ground was too
sacred for even Polly to venture upon.
Than! sgiving morning dawned clear
and bright, with a flurry of snow on the
ground. It was the s econd snow of the
waning year. Polly put the turkey to
roast early, and Susan Jane helped her,
saying little, but looking somewhat ex-
pectant, as Mrs. Baer decided to her-
self.
Mrs. Darnell who, as a neighbor, had
been invited to sliarn the Thanksgiving
feast, dropped in, of course, ahead of
i time. She had tie happy faculty of
'lever being late—to a good dinner.
"I must say, Susan Jane " she re-
marked. "that your A,unt Polly was right
when she said some folks have nothing
to be than! ful tor to-day. Pardon me.
but there s John, and the way lie's gone
and done—"
"Just a moment, please, Mrs. Darnell."
interrupted Susan Jane. "Some one's
stopped in the yard."
She opened the door and sprang out
with a slight, joyous cry.
"Well, did you ever, Polly!"exclaimed
Mrs. Darnell. "Why, it's John Moore—"
Susan Jane came back to the house
with a big, handsome, bearded fellow,
whose arm fondly encircled her waist.
Her own face was wreathed in smiles,
and she trembled all over with the un-
speakable pleasure a new-found joy.
"N<itbin'T '<1 be th"n' Oil for <1bl inn
say, Aunt Polly, anc you, Mrs. Darnell ?"
exclaimed Susan Jane, to the perplexed
and astonished wome n. "I think i have
thankful for—John!"
And it is said that turkey went beg-
i?lng that day on Susan Jane's plate, for
she could not take her brown eyes off i ho
big fellow who was her Thanksgiving ly
k
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"THIS IS THANKSGIVING," SHE SAID.
and who had come back from the sick
We will not cross the trtream until we | a^.a:v,nJ,orth'backt0'h« men in ye olden
reach it Mrs. Darnell," said Susan, with : ' ! 1,1 u 'ul' [• *"r bim, and for football of a Thanks day! They w
u of spirit. i lta haw,eBt
the pa3t seem near—just on the other
side cf the darkness. 1 was thinking
ot the thanksgivings of Miles Sland-
and Priscilla and the others. How
little they had to be gfateful for, and
yet how religiously great in tffeir
thankfulness."
He had not called to speak of the
pilgrim fathers, and so he remarked,
somewhat rudely: "I was not aware
that you were an ultra religionist."
She answered absently, groping her
hand along the window sill. "Ah, yofc
mean lighted candles and contribution
-boxes. It i-s the courageous faith of
our ancestors that thrills one with
Its dauntlessness. Think of those
well-born* ladies and gentlemen be-
come pioneers in a wilderness in 07
short days. After drought and fam-
ine and v;«- ttions ire i adventurers
they could bliil assemble to w-nrjliiy
nnd t i pra.. on day so' asic; lnr i iv-
ii'.e, th ni:.s. 1 bell ve their l • : • 1-
t.ere answered—c-ven personally. As
tor us ,,-e oi the 1 ventieth nitury—
we are pi ious careful not to pray
ior anythin , we hav. net the eash to
"ay t jr."
"All v.3 e/ve the pilgrims," he said.
h i!L, efcinpt lied to lollow her eonver-
ii ■ -ii lean, "Is a vo e ot t.haiii.s.t >r
■'.a: ;r gen f,; i:ty in ti: • mitter of aa-
i >tors. A! nest anyone Ui the Hue
took on now aif .i'd at lea i two lure-
iathers who cams ov r in the Ma .-
iiov,er. B it to x turn—yeni were
ab .ti to answer my question. Is—"
"1 can sec them now," she inter-
rupted, "with their broad bats and
swords buckle<l at their sides, and—"
uncertain in furthe.* details she swlft-
oegan again: "How little pleasure
they gave themselves! Imagine grown
Plymouth playing
would
ve ' litiu iiit*ii* oiit;uuing iw\. aiuck
through a pillory in no time!"
"Instead of legs done up in surgical
splints—wooden customs both!" He
refused to he serious.
She fell without seeing that he ward
approaching the window again. The
pilgrims wouldn't hold out much
longer, owing to her uncertain his-
torical data. Was William Penn the
first governor of the colony? Or was
Cotton Math.r? She must say sou-
thing, or that inevitable Question, and
if she were to say 'yes' to this frivol-
ous person, what should she say to
the new Presbyterian minister of the
rtd brick church?"
"Is it ye.3—dear?" There was a very
personal note in the voice this time,
and a hand was ominously near her
t,wn on the window ledge.
"If—if yon were more serious about
things," she began, unsteadily. "Re-
ligious things, like Thanksgiving, for
instance. If you had a belief, or a
code or something 1 could believe in
you more—don't you see. Everyone
says—"
Evidently he saw something which
pleased him, for there was an expan-
sive smile on his face. Suddenly he
struck an attitude.
"How would a code of thanks meet
with your approval, just owing to the
day—""
"I don't believe you were ever
thankful for anything."
"•My dear young woman, no divine
was ever more m 1 am thankful foi
—for the great commonwealth lr
which we live, with Its waving fields
of—of—"
"Hay," she suggested.
"I was about to say "fctiions,"
corrected. "And its greater statos-
men--yes, with its stalesmrni ever
greater than its onion fields, possessed
as th jy are of nothing but love for
the waj.0 earner—during presidential
campaigns.
"I am thankful that in tnese tmny,
qtates there are—; re noble reformers
—who End it pos: ible -to reap wealth
by" denouncing it- -thereby proving the
t os abilities of American statesman-
ship."
"What are you talking about?"
"Proving myself eligible lo ask a
simple question I am thankful for the
female brains which discuss the ques-
tion: 'Shall women propiise?' occupy-
ing themselves with the discussion
Uiey do not propose.
"I am thankfvl that we do not live
in the days of Puritanism, otherwise.
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TJUi M i N Is e!.i: ; .\ \\ NoTIIIMi TO UK
TH A NIC I r !, KtiiJ
i csitatn in a >■ rt Un window
would hav-" been burned for a witch -
dc.id certain.
I am thankful that said girl'1 ha
lowered bis voice In a IcMlng way- "is
going to say—"
"Yes," she finished softly.
And the Pre.-bytei ian minister i t
'lie red brisk churob* nw nothio
whatever for which to I:." than! fid at)
the day "set apart nod appointed "
f "
1
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Davenport Leader (Davenport, Okla.), Vol. 1, No. 30, Ed. 1 Thursday, November 24, 1904, newspaper, November 24, 1904; Davenport, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc106286/m1/3/: accessed April 23, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.