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THE LEDGER: GAFFNEY, S. C. t NOVEMBER 25, 1897 3 ggiguftrr*”? HS!?*: AWAY, • V I • «/ ' A I. 1 MCON. snrrv thq* I ISTAH MOON, a lookln down From do •lends upon do town. Heah roe pruyl Fin dc durkoai’ cloud yo' kin, sahl Fin a cloud ez brack ez sin, tsah. Hide away. Mist ah Moon! Ilide away! Mistah Moon, a-shtnln bright, Makin all do country light— Light ez day— Doan’ yo’ know hit’a noah Thankaeibbin, An do worl owes mo a libbin? Hide away, Mistah Moon! Hide away! Earle H. Eaton. AT THE BISHOP’S. A THANKSG1VIKQ STOUT. [Copyright. 1887. by H. Addington Bruce.] i Tho bishop turned into Madison square from Twenty-third street with that ot.hu, digniu.^d stride, almost half a waddle, cultivated by so many church dignitaries. As beHtted a man with an easy conscience, he walked with his head well up in the air and betrayed by his whole appearance that he was well sat- isfied with himself. Good reason for be ing so, with his prosperous living and his fat income, waxing greater year after year, to say nothing of his work among the many poor sou’s—rich ones, rather—whom he instructed every Sun day in tho mysteries of the narrow path, j The bishop’s sermons wore remark able for their eloquence, and he had ex celled himself in the Thanksgiving ser mon that morning. The result of his preaching was practically seen in the size of the weekly collections, and Tie had no reason to complain of the Thanks giving day contributions. Therefore it was with tho reflection of work well done that the good bishop was on his way now to a quiet, comfortable, little family dinner. With pleasure he thought of how excellent the menu would be, for his chef, recently imported from Paris, was no second rate one by any means. was a keen suggestion of frost with tho prospect of a snow- oforo morning. Tho bishop invol untarily hastened his pace a little as he felt the coolness of tho atmosphere. It Was almost 7 o’clock and past twilight, i Near tho corner of East Twenty- fourth street, leaning carelessly against the railing in front of Dr. Parkhurst's church, was a tall, well built young man, apparently fashionably dressed. He probably was not more than 25 or 26. As the bishop passed where ho was standing he spoke to the divine, and the latter halted, though the young man was an utter stranger to him. } “A fine, cool evening, ” said the idler, crossing quickly to the bishop’s side, i “A little too cool for me, ” responded the bishop, “but”— A glance of inqui ry was directed at the other. The young man smiled. “Ah, yes,” said he suavely. “Ifor got to introdneo myself. You mast par don my rudeness. I heard you preach this morning, bishop, and seeing you passing uow I thought you would not take it amiss if i ventured to tell you how impressed I was with your ser mon. " The bishop would have made some acknowledgment of the compliment, but the speaker did not give him time. He continued hurriedly: i “This is my very first visit to New York. I only arrived last uight and ex pect to return to my home in Chicago in a very few days You do not know uietuiB. [ There w; in itye air, fall before “HKRIC IS MT CARD.” how delighted I was at the good for tune which led me to your church to day 1 am stopping at the Fifth Ave nue. across the square. Here is my card. ” In the dim street light the bishop read, “Herbert E. Edwards, Chicago, Ills.” “I am delighted to meet you, my boy," said the bishop, with cordiality, his vanity gratified in no small measure by the flattering allusion to his sermon. “Will you be in New York very long?” 1 “Oh, no,” was Edwards' reply, “on ly a ftw days. My business here, for my visit is a business one, will not de tain long, and with but a limited circle of friends I have no great desire to romniv). lodood T nm could not delay iry trip a day longer. Thanksgiving day away from homo is always dnll in the extreme. One miss es the taniiiy dinner espacially. 1 ‘ As he spoke tho young man, in search of a cigar, carelessly threw open his topcoot, and the bishop could soo that he was faultlessly an’«,ycd in evening dress. “Ah,” thought tho reverend gentle man, “evidently a well to do young fellow.” And he added aloud, a respon sive chord in his heart being touched at the mention of the word “dinner:” “Yes, ono does feel lonely away from one’s own people on a day like this. Ar» you dining with friends thij even ing?” “No such luck,” answered Edwards quickly. “I dine at tho hotel. I’ll have turkey, of course, and ail that sort of thing, but it will not seem the same old Thanksgiving dinner to which I have been accustomed. ” Thou ho added earnestly: "Bishop, if I dicb not feel that you would refuse me I would ask yon to come and dine with me this evening. ” “Wo can do much better than that,” broke in the bishop warmly. “I would be pleased if you would come and dine with us. We are having but a small family dinner, and you would be en tirely welcome to share it. ” Edwards’ surpriso at this unexpected kindness must have been very apparent, for tho bishop hastened to add, his face beaming with good will: “Now, I will listen to no objections, for you can have none in reason. My home is only a short distance up Mali son avenue, ami I see yon arc qilte p-o- pared to go out. ” £till smiling with good nature, the worthy bishop started up the street, fol lowed by tho man from Chicago, pro testing, but in truth rather feebly. On the way tho Chicagoan explained to tho reverend gentleman that his business in New York was in connec tion with a deal on ’change and that if the bishop cared to speculate he might in a day or two be able to give him a valuable tip, whereat the good bishop chuckled inwardly, for hero was surely a splendid chance to add to his finances. Thanking Edwards, he hinted plainly that he might take advantage of his offer, and the broker, for such he seemed to be, expressed tho pleasure it would afford him to bo of any use to tho bishop. Tho Thanksgiving dinner passed off splendidly, Edwards proving himself a splendid conversationalist Just four people participated besides the bishop and Edwards. These were the wife, daughter and son of the bishop and a brother, a well to do banker. The daughter, about 23 years old, was a tall, slender, willowy girl, fair of com plexion, with clear, blue eyes, and the visitor was assiduous in his attentions to her daring the evening. The son was a young Princeton man, and naturally the conversation at dinner turned a great deal on football and on the day’s game. Edwards seemed thor oughly up in tho game, discursing with great fluency on various celebrities of western fame. His acquaintanceship with various Chicago clergymen, all personal friends of the bishop, served to advance him in the latter’s good graces, and, taken all in all, he made a very favorable impression on the whole fam ily. His easy carriage, his graceful de portment and well chosen language proved beyond a doubt that he was a thorough gentleman, and the bishop congratulated himself more and more for having met him. Shortly after the party adjourned to tho drawing room the banker, seeming ly to Edwards’ relief, announced his intention of going home, and promptly said good night After an evening pleas antly passed by all, during which the visitor only added to the good impres sion ho had created earlier, Edwards hinted that he was about to leave. “Wait a moment, please,” said the bishop. “Tho other day I bought a painting, which 1 was informed was a genuine Raphael. If you should happen to know anything about art, Mr. Ed wards, I would very much like to have you step into the library and examine it” “With great pleasure,” responded Edwards. “To tell you the truth, paint ing has always been one of my hobbies. ” Excusing themselves, the bishop and his guest crossed the hall and found themselves in a small bat cozy little room, in which were shelves laden with theological works, a large writing desk, a small safe and a couple of chain. Ed wards took in tho situation with a glance, and an observer would have seen a quiet smile of satisfaction on his handsome faco. An odd thing he did, but something that the bishop was too preoccupied to notice, was to noiselessly turn the key in the door. “This is the picture,” said the bish op proudly. “Tell mo just exactly what you think of it ” Tho Chicagoan examined it with the air of on expert “You need have no fears,” said he at length, after an apparently minute sur vey. “It is a Raphael all right, and 1 congratulate you on its possession. ” The bishop gave a little sigh of relief. “Thank > on, “ said he. “1 waa afraid I might have l>ceu duped, though 1 am ■eldom caught napping Let us return. “ “One moment, pleaso,” asked Ed wards briskly. “I wish you would sit down, as I have a somewhat lengthy communication to make to you. “ “Why, certainly,” from the bishop affably. “Is it in reference to tho deal?” “In reference to A deal, ” repeated the other. “Bishop, yon have treated me with so much kindness since we first mot that I am induced to pat tho confi dence In yon which 1 would perhaps give to nobody «d*« in tho world. ” The bishop smiled at tho young man encouragingly. “You see,” he went on, “tho subject is a delicate one, not to be treated light ly. When 1 left Chicago three days ago, I had to leave in somewhat of a hurry and was forced to start at hardly a mo ment’s notice. I had but little time to IRE i?OLK. YEN AND WOMEN WKO GAVE L’3 THANKSGIVING DAY. pack and forgot a number of tilings That a gentleman always should have with him. Among others was my watch. As a business man 1 am in constant need of a timepiece. I sec you are wearing one, bishop. Might I ask you to loan it to me, merely to loan it to me, for a couple of days?” “What!" thundered the bishop, aghast. “Oh, 1 pak you merely as man to man. Trely on your goodness of heart as exhibited all evening not to refnse this trifle. ” Tho bishop sat glaring in his arm chair. He made no movement. Ilia chubby, round face was apoplectic with rage. “Come, come,” said Edwards, chang ing his tuna “I have no time to waste discussing the matter. ” The sight of tho butt of a revolver half drawn from Edwards’ trousors pocket acted like an electric shock on the bishop. In a moment tho richly jeweled watch was on the floor at tho feet of the man from Chicago. “That’sreasonable,” said ho. “Now, my dear bishop, that gold cross around your neck. 1 will keep it as a souvenir of you. “ “Next," continued Edwards, pocket ing the cross, “have yon any money •boat you? 1 confess I came away to night ridiculously short of change." The bishop glowered at him in im potent wrath, hot Edwards preserved at onco concluded all was safe. So, re locking tho library door, he put the key in his pocket and walked boldly into tho drawing room. “Ladies,” said ho, “I will bid yon good uight now, with many thanks for your kind hospitality. By the way, tho bishop does pot wish to be disturbed for at least an hour, tie is bu.,y in tho li brary studying some information I have just given him in regard to a little deal. Tomorrow evening 1 may call again. Thank you both. ” , Polite as ever, ho bowed himself out of the house gracefully. Strange to say, a cab was waiting for him. "Jim,” said he to the driver, “go slow till you get round tho comer. Thou to the station like hell. I’ve cupped tho pile. We’ll divvy later. “ Then the cab started. H. Addington Bruce. RE FUMBLED AT THE COMBINATION. his imperturbable smile. Four $10 bills mud a couple of dollars in silver the result of a search through tho bish op’s clothea “Hum!” said the guest of the even ing. “Is that all you have?” The bishop nodded. “Then, ’’ said Edwards, with gravity, “1 fear I will have to ask you to open tho safe. 1 am certain you have not bankod today’s collection yet Let me see—you announced it at nearly $900, m tidy sum. ” The bishop attempted to cxpostulateL “The money belongs to the church, not to me. ” “Ah, that may be, but I am only borrowing it from tho church, and I re ly on your goodness of heart to repay it to the church yourself in oMs 1 forget to. Time is flying Hurry I” Unable to stand up, tho unfortunate clergyman crawled over on his hands and knees and fumbled at the oombina- tion. His hands shook so that he Could hardly open it, whilo the Chicagoan, revolver in hand, stood guard over him. Onco opened, it was tho work of a mo ment to transfer the packages of money to the capacious pockets of' tho visitor, who politely assisted the bishop back to his armchair. “Now,” said Edwards, “I think I am perfectly satisfied. You have behaved beautifully, dear bishop, and 1 am de lighted to find that 1 was perfectly right iu relying upon your goodnees of heart 1 have only two more things to say, that your sermon this morning was ex cellent and your dinner this evening equally ao. As to that deal, why, we will talk it over next time we meet, which may not be, alaa, for a long time.” A chloroformed handkerdhisf did the rest, and soon the old bishop was sleep ing soundly on tho floor of hie library. Edwards drew a long breath as he walked into the hall lie eould hear conversation in the drawing room, and The Origin of Thankcglviag. The first recorded in stance of anything in the nature of thanks giving in the history of **- our country is the fol lowing entry in an old Bible belonging to ono of the first pilgrims: * 4 Sonne born to Susanna White, December ‘19th, 1620, yt six o’clock morning. Next day we meet for prayer and thanksgiving. ” This, how ever, is not generally accepted as the first observance of that nature, since it hardly partook of the character of a general thanksgiving. But 16 months after the pilgrims sailed from Holland they held a harvest festival which last ed a week. This is generally spoken of as the first Thanksgiviug in New Eng land, but it was not a day set apart by the governor, nor was it attended by any religious observance. A few years later precisely the same thing occurred. Thereupon July HO, 1623, was appointed as a day of thanks giving, and before the second sunset a relief ship arrived. Fast days and thanksgiving days came at irregular in tervals for a number of years, the latter following some marked event of a benef icent nature, such as getting rid of Anne Hutchinson, whose preaching were caused such a turmoil iu New Eng land, for the termination of King Phil ip’s war and the close of the Revolution and the triumph of independeuce in America. Then came the practice of tho governor of each state naming a day for general thanksgiving. These at first were not coincident, but the beautiful custom has prevailed for a considerable time, and doubtless will prevail for ages to come, of the president appointing such a day, generally the last Thursday in November, to which the governor of each state assents by naming the same day. Thus there is one day each year when the 46 states and tho territories from the Atlantic to the Pacific and from British America to the gulf return thanks to God for his manifold bless ings and mercies. Exciting. uscl | .j J'! Miss Boston—How dull and unexcit ing the Pilgrim Fathers must have found Thanksgiving without football There was no kicking the pigskin then. Wngloy—That's true, but they got their excitement licking the redskin. i Kothlas Very A timet: r® A:>ont Th!‘-. of the Live* of Onr I nmorj Ancestor!. Conti Things to Eat and Drink- Large Families. Tho.'o who want to know jr-:t what •ort of people thqy woro who gave America a Thank.-giviug day .should read Alico Morse Earle’s book, “Cus toms and Fashions In Old New Eng land.” The reader will surely wonder how it came about that these people woro responsible for an anniver.-nry day when they so bitterly oppos'd letting their poor, little, half frozen, skinny children ceM'vato April Fool’s day. The young ones of those days were beautifully clad in linen—goose fleshy thought—little, thin linen, short Kleev- ed, low necked shirts ami baglike dress es of linen, drawn in around the neck with puckering strings. Then tho Sunday after they were bom they w;ro carried off to the meeting house to be baptized. There was no tire iu those meeting houses, and they often had to break the ico in the christening bowl. But the Puritans had no monop oly of snoh cruelty to children. Tho ru bric of the Episcopalian prayer book says that parents mast not defer baptism longer than tho first or second Sunday after birth. Cue of these New England parsons believed in infant immersion and prac ticed it, too, till his own child nearly lest its life by it. After that ho learned some seneo. Judge Sewall writes Jan. 22, 1C94: “A very extraordinary storm by reason of tho fulUng and driving of tho euow. Few women could get to meeting. A child named Alexander was baptized in the afternoon.” It is not surprising that consumption struck so deep into New England or that infant mortality was so great Re member, too, that in the books on tiio rearing of children it was advised that their feet be often dipped in cold water and that they wear thin soled shoes, “ hat tho wet may como freely to them.” One doesn’t wonder, either, at the sizR of the families. Sir ’William Pbips was one of 26 children by tho same mother; Printer Green had 30 children; tho Rev. John Sherman of Watertown had 26 children by two wives—20 by his last. With death making so many subtractions, the Puritans had to do a little multiplication. It must have taken a good deal of scuffling with tho elements to provide bread and meat and clothes for a family like a small Sunday school. They didn’t get enough to eat, it is plain, for the children were almost all rickety, and all had to take elaborate compounds of baked snails, mashed earthworms, herbs, hartshorn and strong ale to cure them. But tho children were smart children. Phebo Bartlett was powerfully convert ed when she was 4 years old. Jane Tur- dl could tell Scripture storks before she was 2 years old, and before she was 4 she could say the greater part of her catechism, many of the Psalms, read distinctly and make pertinent remarks on many things she read. She asked many astonishing questions about divine mysteries. Cotton Mather took his little daugh ter Katy, aged 4, into his study and told her that he was to die shortly and that she must remember all he said. He set before her the sinful condition of her nature and charged her to pray in secret places every day, aud so on, with much more lugubrious matter of the same sort. He lived 30 years after he soared poor little Katy so. That’s the lively sort of time the Puritan children had. The poor little Puritan boys were not allowed to go swimming at all, aud every tithiugman was strictly enjoined to keep them from it. Each tithiugman had ten families under his charge, and if one may estimate that there were ten boys in each family the chances are that on a hot August day some one of those 100 yonng ones defied the law, its dread executor aud the chances of going to a place where it is more than August all the year around, and no good swim ming holes cither. But the young ones danced, and they had punch to drink. One little girl 8 years old wouldn’t stay at her grand mother’s house because she couldn’t have wine to drink at every meal, and her pureuis upheld her in her conduct. They had candy and gingerbread and oranges and pictured story books; but, alas, they were stories of the “Conver sion aud Holy aud Exemplary Lives of Several Young Children,” “Tho Life of Mary Paddock, Who Died at the Age of Nine, “ “Praise Out of the Mouths of Babes, ’ ’ and the likes of them I They went to school aud froze there when they weren’t warmed up with “lamming and with whipping aud such benefits of nature. ” Besides, the teach er had devilish devices, such as a split branch, into whose cleft the bad child’s nose was put and pinched. They had leather paddles, and the whole commu nity didn’t rise up in horror at it, though little children were blistered, not grown up young men. Bachelors aud “lone men” had the worst of it very decidedly. The tithiug man kept his eye on them all the time. In Hartford they had to pay 20 shil lings a week to tho town for living without a wife. Widowers hardly wait ed till their wives were good and cold before they married again. The father and mother of Governor Winslow had been widower aud widow 7 and 13 weeks respectively when they were married. The governor of New Hamp shire married a woman whose first hus band was pot in the grave just ten days before the wedding. A single woman was “an anti eat maid” at 26 years, and a spinster of 30 years was a “thorn- back ” Judge Sswall wrote in his diary quit* a long Ktory ox LU various tilLV It* £ kl* to remarry when his first wife died, hav ing him a widower CG years old. He hu.il a t.ixio o* *t, .ci _o a..s close fisted in the matter of couioi.e uta, but finally bo drove a bargain. \ In tho early days of New England almost everybody of dignity pcrT^med tho marriage except the parisoa, ;tu-i tho whole company of guests used to invade the bridal chambv.r and i.u.'.e long pray ers there. Young fellows who were not invited to the wedding hud the pleasing custom of stealing tho bride afhr the marriage ceremony, carrying her off aud releasing her only when the bride groom bought a supper for tlom. f They had good tilings to eat, though, if two people did have to cat off tho same plate. For instance, ono Now England way to cook o^ls was to them with nutmeg aud cloves, stick them with cloves, cook in wine, placo on a dialing uisli ami gumioli a i . ** .oni ons. Indian pudding, hominy, sappawB, pone, samp aud succotash they learned how to cook from the Indians. Pump kins they didn’t think much of fir tho reason that they had such an overdoso of them. And here is a recipe for 4 4 pum- pion pye” which housewives may copy and use—if they can make head or tail of it: “Take about half a pound of 1’um- pion and slice it, a handful of Tyme, a little Rosemary, Parsley and Sweet COTTON MATULR. p. Marjoram, slipped off tho Stalkes, and chop them small and beat them, then i mvr fbem ?i*d bea* - them altogether and put iu as much Sugar as you think lit, thea fry them like a froiz. After it is fr> od, let it stand til it be cold, then fill your Pye. Take sliced Apples, tbinuo romide-ways, and lay a row of the Froiz aud layer of Apples, with Currans be twixt the layer whilo your Pye is fitted and put iu a good deal of sweet butter before you close it, when tho Pyo is baked take sixteen yelks of Eggs, some White Wine or Vergis, and make a Caudle of this but not too Thicke, cut up the Lid and put it in, stir them well together whilst the Eggs and Pumpion* be not perceived and so servo it up. ” Probably it was good, but there was mighty little “pumpion” to the “pye” and a good deal of everything else in. the shop. Sixteen eggs in a pie when they are selling at eight for a quarter will scare out a good many thrifty housewives of today. They were preity heavy drinkers at firet, bat very early it began to bo bard linos for habitual drunkards. They had to sit in tho stocks, lost their vot»s and had a great “D” made of “redd” cloth hung around their necks or sewed on their clothes. The recipes for fancy drinks were in tolerably long and full of all the spice* in their shops and all tho herbs of their gardens. Their simpler ones were rafth- er messy things, one would think. Hero is Landlord May’s recipe for flip: “Mix four pounds of sugar, four egg* and a pint of cream, and let it stand for two days. Fill a quart mug two-third* full of beer, put therein fonr great spoonfuls of the compound. Then thrust into the mixture a hot loggerhead and add a gill of rum. ” A popular drink in Salem was 44 whis- tlebelly vengesnee”—charming name? It was made of sour household beer simmered iu a kettle, sweetened with molasses, filled with brown bread, crumbs and drank hot. For medicines the old Puritans had the awfulest messes. Sow bugs and roses, and pounded coral, and toad* caught in March and burned to a char, aud ambergris were some of the uruga. Of course they were bled and physicked to the last degree. They used to make up parties or classes and go to a retreat, where they would all be inoculated for smallpox—not vaccinated, but inocu lated with the real disease. There they “broke out” together, had the lever to gether, sweat together, scaled off to gether, and umuy a love affair sprung 9 up amid such highly unromantic cir cumstances. The greatest of all trials, ono would- think, was tho way tho neighbors all got into the sickroom and prayed all day long. It was no good tho nonr badgered creature telling them to hold their tongues aud to let him alone. They kept at him till he told thorn so pray, and they fairly hectored him into heaven. But they had glorious times at fu neral* They must have all got tight a* drums from the amount of liqnor they drank. Funeral odes were about the only punning poetry the Puritans wrote. They had no prayers or sermons—just put the man into the ground with great pomp. Everybody had to have glove* and rings were often given away by the family of tho deceased. They had soda lovely things on them as— Prepared be To follow me. Dr. Buxton of Salem left when h* died a quart mug full of rings he had “made,” as the thrifty phrase was, by going to funeral* Strangest of all, in New England, tb* land of rocks, where they plant field* with shotguns and the sheep's nose*, have to be ground so that they can nib ble the grass between the pebbles, they used to Import the gravestones from old England. And these were tho folks who invent ed Thanksgiving day.