Thanksgiving Day – 2
And the baby! Why, he made a big hole, with two incisors, in a big pippin, and bit the finger presumptuously poked into the little mouth to arrest the peel! Then he was caught walking! one, two, three steps, – and papa knew that he could walk, but grandpa was taken napping. Now! baby has tumbled, soft as thistle-down, on the floor; and instead of a real set-to at crying, a look of cheer and a toy from mamma bring the soft little palms patting together, and pucker the rosebud mouth into saying, “Oh, pretty!” That was a scientific baby; and his first sitting-at-table on Thanksgiving Day – yes, and his little rainbowy life – brought sunshine to every heart. How many homes echo such tones of heartfelt joy on Thanksgiving Day! But, alas! for the desolate home; for the tear-filled eyes looking longingly at the portal through which the loved one comes not, or gazing silently on the vacant seat at fireside and board – God comfort them all! we inwardly prayed – but the memory was too much; and, turning from it, in a bumper of pudding-sauce we drank to peace, and plenty, and happy households. (Eddy, Mary Baker, Miscellaneous Writings, p.231:16-4)
WATCHKEEPERS 