“Oh, mother, mother!” exclaimed Lucy Welford, as she bounded into her
mother’s room, one bright, frosty morning in November, “Uncle John is in
the parlor, and he has come to ask you if he may take Mary and me home
with him to pass Thanksgiving. O, please, mother, let us go.
Thanksgiving in the country is so delightful, much more so than in the
city. Such fine sleigh-rides, and such grand slides on the pond.”
“And the delicious pumpkin pies, and the roast turkeys, and the bowls of
sweet milk and cream,” continued Mary, who had followed her sister to
hear their mother’s decision. “Oh, it will be so pleasant. And only
think, mother, Uncle John is going to have a large party—a regular
feast—he says; and Aunt Clara thinks that Lucy and I can assist her very
much if you will be so kind as to let us go.”
“Very well,” replied their mother, smiling; “we will go and talk with
Uncle John about it, and see if father thinks he can spare both of his
girls for a few days.”
To the great joy of Mary and Lucy, father and mother at length gave
their consent; and, warmly wrapped in hoods and cloaks, with a large
carpet-bag to contain such articles as would be necessary for them
during their stay, they sprang lightly into Uncle John’s comfortable
sleigh, and with many a kind good-by to the dear ones at home, were soon
riding swiftly away, leaving far behind the various sights and sounds of
the busy city.
A pleasant ride of fifteen miles brought them to the old-fashioned farm
house, where the sound of the merry bells soon called Aunt Clara to the
door, and with a most affectionate welcome, she embraced her young
nieces, and expressed her joy that their parents had consented to spare
them to her for a short time.
The ride in the fresh air had given the girls fine rosy cheeks and
excellent appetites, and they were quite ready to accept Aunt Clara’s
invitation to take a luncheon of bread and milk, and some of her nice
doughnuts.
“And now, dear aunt, do tell us all about the party,” exclaimed Lucy.
“Will there be any young folks, or is it only for grown up people like
you and Uncle John? We tried to make him tell us about it as we rode
along; but he only laughed, and said we should find out when the day
came.”
“There will be both young and old,” replied their aunt, smiling, “about
fifty in all; so you see I shall be much in need of your assistance in
entertaining so large a company.”
“We will do everything we can to help you,” said Mary, “and we have
brought our new winter frocks to wear, and new ribbons for our hair; and
mother said, if anything else was needed, we could send her word
to-morrow, as Uncle John said he should be obliged to go into town.”
“Oh, your dress will do very well, I have no doubt,” replied her aunt.
“Our friends are not very showy people, and will come in plain attire.
But I must leave you and Lucy to entertain yourselves for a short time,
as a part of my morning work is unfinished. I suppose you will not be at
a loss for amusement.”
“Not at all,” answered both of the girls. “We will go to the barn, and
find Uncle John, and see if our old pets among the sheep and the cows
have forgotten us.”
The remainder of the day passed pleasantly away, and the girls were so
much fatigued with the unusual exercise they had taken in running about
the farm, that they were quite glad when bed-time came, and slept
soundly until the bright rays of the morning sun were beaming in at
their window.
“To-morrow will be the day for the party,” exclaimed Lucy, as she and
her sister hastened to dress for breakfast, fearful that they had
already kept their aunt waiting. “I expect to enjoy it so much.”
“So do I,” replied Mary. “I am very glad that there are young people
coming. There are some sweet little girls in the neighborhood. I hope
Aunt Clara has invited Mrs. Carlton’s family. They live in the great
white house on the hill, and are very genteel, pleasant people.”
“No doubt they will be here,” returned Lucy, “and the Wilsons and
Smiths, and, perhaps, Mr. Marion’s family. There must be many others
coming whom we do not know, for aunt said there would be about fifty
guests. O, I am sure it will be delightful!”
Breakfast over, Aunt Clara soon found abundance of work for her two
young assistants. There were nutmegs to grate, eggs to beat, apples to
pare, meat to mince, and various other employments, which the girls
found very interesting. The tables were soon loaded with pies, cakes,
warm bread, and every variety of eatables, while turkeys and chickens by
the dozen were in a state of preparation, and the large pots over the
fire were filled with the nice hams which Uncle John had provided for
the occasion. Everything showed that there was to be a bountiful feast,
and our young friends danced for joy, as they thought of the pleasure in
store for them.
The much wished for day came at length, and a bright and beautiful day
it was. The guests were expected to assemble about noon, and by eleven
o’clock, Lucy and Mary, having assisted their aunt in preparing the long
table in the dining-room, hastened to their own apartment to dress, that
they might be in readiness to receive them.
The great double sleigh with the pretty gray ponies was already
harnessed, for some of the visitors, as Uncle John observed, lived at
quite a distance from the farm, and he had promised to send for them at
the proper time.
“Very kind in Uncle John,” observed Mary to her sister, “but I should
think they would prefer coming in their own carriages.”
“But it is so pleasant to load up that old double sleigh,” returned
Lucy. “The younger part of the company will enjoy the arrangement
exceedingly. Just tie this bow for me, Mary, and then, I believe, we are
all ready. Let us go down at once. I have no doubt that a part of the
company have arrived.”
But the parlors were still empty. Even Aunt Clara had not yet appeared,
and after surveying themselves with much satisfaction in the large
mirror, and impatiently walking up and down the room for a short time,
the girls resolved to seek her, and inquire if the appointed dinner hour
had not nearly arrived. To their surprise, they found the table already
loaded with the smoking plum puddings, and nicely roasted turkeys and
chickens, which Uncle John and Aunt Clara were carrying with all
possible despatch.
“But no one has come yet, Uncle John,” exclaimed both Lucy and Mary in a
breath. “Will not the dinner be cold?”
“Our friends have all arrived,” was their uncle’s quiet reply; and as he
spoke, the door leading from the great kitchen was thrown open, and a
crowd of persons, young and old, appeared.
There was the honest laborer, who had toiled hard through the year for
the support of his large family. There, too, was the cheerful wife and
the joyful little ones, and, perhaps, the aged grand-parents, whose
feeble steps were supported by their children, as they took their seats
at the bountifully spread table. In short, most of the worthy poor in
the immediate vicinity of the farm were there assembled, and some few
from a greater distance.
Mary and Lucy had not time to recover from their surprise, before all
the guests were seated at the table, and Uncle John, rising from his
chair, bade them all a kindly welcome, and after explaining in a few
words the origin of Thanksgiving Day, asked them all to unite with him
in a prayer of thankfulness to the Lord, from whom every mercy is
received.
Each guest was then plentifully supplied with the good things upon the
table, and Aunt Clara requested her nieces to attend particularly to the
little children, and see that all their wants were cared for.
A happier party was seldom seen. After dinner, presents of food and
clothing were distributed among them, and Mary and Lucy found great
satisfaction in dressing the children in new clothes, and seeing the
gratitude and joy in their smiling little faces.
After an hour or two spent in this manner, the great sleigh and the gray
horses came merrily jingling to the door, and the old people and the
children were safely conveyed to their homes, and the rest of the party,
with many thanks and blessings to their kind entertainers, took their
leave.
“Well, girls, how did you enjoy my party?” exclaimed Uncle John, as he
reëntered the parlor, after bidding farewell to the last of his guests.
“O, very much indeed,” was the reply. “It was very different from what
we expected, but still we enjoyed it very much. It is so pleasant to
make others happy.”
“It is, indeed, my children,” returned Uncle John, “and it appears to me
that on a day like this, it is the duty of all those whom the Lord has
blessed with abundance, to seek out the needy and afflicted, and
endeavor to relieve their wants.”
When the harvest is gathered in, and the farmer beholds his table loaded
with the rich fruits of the year, he should call upon the aged, the
poor, and the helpless to come in with him and share his feast.