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Life seemed worth livin', the cold waves of death seemed lit up with a heavenly glow, the hosts of evil seemed to back off before the Angel of Deliverance. I don't spoze that from Maine to Florida, or from Jonesville to San Francisco there wuz a happier Thanksgivin' party than we had.

We make a practice of givin' presents in our own family Thanksgivin', for it always seemed so kinder appropriate that while we wuz givin' thanks we might just as well give a few more. And their presents to us wuz just what we wanted and ourn to them proved to be just what they wanted.

So, while there is a kind o' mist in Father's eyes, I can see he is dreamin'-like of sweet an' tender things, and a-communin' with memory hearin' voices I never heard, an' feelin' the tech of hands I never pressed; an' seein' Father's peaceful face I find it hard to think of a Thanksgivin' sweeter than Father's is.

I done told th' old man he'd better herd him fer a spell, fer if he was t' get loose in these woods, there wouldn't be nary deer er bear left come Thanksgivin' time. Uncle Ike said 'Ba thundas! he'd let me know that he warn't runnin' no dummed asylum. He 'lowed he was postmaster, 'Ba thundas! an' had all he could do t' keep th' dad burned gov'ment straight."

"Here I 've been in this plaguy country for goin' on a year, and yes, I'm sick of it, powerful sick of it. What a miser'ble Thanksgivin' this has been! They don't know what Thanksgivin' is out this way. I wish I was back in ol' Mass'chusetts that's the country for me, and they hev the kind o' Thanksgivin' I like!"

What's the matter of us hoppin' over an' shootin' up Red Dog?" says Dan Boggs. 'That bunch of tarrapins ain't been shook up none for three months. "'Technical speakin', says Doc Peets which Peets, he shorely is the longest-headed sharp I ever sees, an' the galiest 'shootin' up Red Dog, while it's all right as a prop'sition an' highly creditable to Boggs, is not a Thanksgivin' play.

She had been a faithful daughter, and now that she seemed, in so mysterious a way, to be growing like her mother, even men of her own age regarded her with deference. "Mr. Stevens," said she, "I didn't bring so much money with me as I might if I'd had my wits about me. Should you jest as soon trust me for some Thanksgivin' things?" "Certain," replied Jonathan. "Clean out the store, if you want.

I want to know if y' be." "Well, you'll find out." "Goin' to start tomorrow, Mother?" "No, sir, I ain't; but I am on Thursday. I want to get to Sally's by Sunday, sure, an' to Silas's on Thanksgivin'." There was a note in the old woman's voice that brought genuine stupefaction into the face of Uncle Ripley. Of course, in this case, as in all others, the money consideration was uppermost.

Both Huldah and Cyrus hoped that this would end the subject of Thanksgiving; but it did not. The very next day Cyrus encountered neighbor Wiley in the village store. Wiley's round red face shone like the full moon. "Well, well, Cy, what ye doin' down your way Thanksgivin' eh?" he queried.

It was while they were strolling through a little glade, which they came upon unexpectedly, that Washington, who was in the lead called out: "Gracious goodness! It must be Thanksgivin'!" "Why so?" asked Jack. "'Cause here's th' remarkablest extraordinary and expansionist of a pumpkin that ever I laid eyes on!" the colored man cried. They all hurried to where Washington had come to a halt.