But he who
dies in a noble cause leaves sweet and fragrant memories behind,
which shall ever after make it pleasant to think of him.
Thanksgiving morning dawned foggy and cold. Yet there is
something in the name that warms the heart and makes the dullest
day seem bright. The sunshine of the heart more than compensates
for the absence of sunshine without.
Frank had not been idle.
The night before he helped Jacob kill a turkey and a pair of
chickens, and seated on a box in the barn they had picked them
clean in preparation for the morrow,
Within the house, too, might be heard the notes of busy
preparation. Alice, sitting in a low chair, was busily engaged in
chopping meat for mince pies. Maggie sat near her paring
pumpkins, for a genuine New England Thanksgiving cannot be
properly celebrated without pumpkin pies. Even little Charlie
found work to do in slicing apples.
By evening a long row of pies might be seen upon the kitchen
dresser. Brown and flaky they looked, fit for the table of a
prince.
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