# The Lutheran Pioneer_St. Louis_1887_S15 # Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration) The Lutheran Pioneer. 15 Thanksgiving Ann. In the kitchen doorway, underneath its arch of swaying vines and dependent purple clus- ters, the old woman sat, tired and warm, vigor- ously fanning her face with her calico apron. It was a dark face, surmounted by a turban, and wearing, just now, a look of troubled thoughtfulness not quite in accordance with her name—a name oddly acquired from an old church anthem that she used to sing some- what on this wise: ‘‘Thanksgivin’ an’— ‘Johnny, don’t play dar in the water, chile!”’ “‘Thanksgivin’ an’—”’ ‘“Run away now, Susie, dearie.”’ “Thanksgivin’ an’—"’ ‘Take care dat bressed baby! gingerbread for him.” Here’s some “Thanksgivin’ an’ the voice of melody.” You laugh? But looking after all these little things was her appointed work, her duty; and she spent the intervals in singing praise. Do many of us make better use of our spare moments? So the children called her Thanksgiving Ann; her other name was forgotten, and Thanksgiving Ann she would be, now, to the end of her days. How many these days had already been, no one knew. She had lived with Mr. and Mrs. Allyn for years, whether as mistress or servant of the establishment they could scarcely tell; they only knew that she was invaluable. She had taken a grandmotherly guardian- ship of all the children, and had a voice in most matters that concerned the father and mother, while in the kitchen she reigned supreme. The early breakfast was over. She had bestowed unusual care upon it, because an agent of the Bible Society, visiting some of the coun- try places for contributions, was to partake of it with them. But while she was busy with a final batch of delicate wafiles, the gentleman had pleaded an appointment, and, taking hasty leave of his host and hostess, had departed unobserved from the kitchen windows; and Thanksgiving Ann’s ‘‘Bible money’’ was still in her pocket. ‘‘Didn’t ask me, nor give me no chance. Just’s if, cause a pusson’s old an’ colored, dey didn’t owe de Lord nuffin, an’ wouldn’t pay it if dey did,’? she murmured, when the state of the case became known. However, Silas, the long-limbed, untiring, and shrewd, who regarded the old woman with a curious mixture of patronage and veneration, had volunteered to run after the vanished guest, and ‘catch him if he was anywhere this side of Chainy.’’? And even while Thanksgiving sat in-the doorway, the messenger returned, apparently unwearied by his chase. “Wa-ll, I come up with him—told ye I would—and give him the three dollars. He | seemed kind of flustered to have missed such a} wid prayin’s an’ thinkin’s dat I mos’ b’'lieve nugget; and he said ’twas a ginerous donation|dey weigh double when dey does go. —equal to your master’s. Which proves,” said Silas, shutting one eye, and appearing to survey the subject meditatively with the other, | ‘that some folks can do as much good just off- |hand as some other folks can with no end of j pinchin’ an’ screwin’ beforehand.’’ | ‘Think it proves dat folks dat don’t have no |} great mount can do as much in a good cause by thinkin’ ’bout it a little aforehand, as other folks will do dat has more, and puts der hands in der pockets when de time comes. I believe | in systematics ’bout such things, I does;’’ and | with an energetic bob of her head, by way jof emphasizing her words, old Thanksgiving | walked into the house. “Thanksgivin’ an’ the voice of melody,” she began in her high, weird voice. But the ‘dened to sing. “He is not Here.” “Only three dollars out’n all the *bun- dance!” she murmured to herself. ‘‘ Well, mebby I oughtn’t to judge; but then I don't judge, I knows. Course, I knows, when I’se here all de time, and sees de good clo’es, an’ de carr'ages, an’ de musics, an’ de fine times — folks an’ hosses an’ tables all provided for, an’ de Lord of glory lef’ to take what happens when de time comes, an’ no prep’ration at all! Sure ’nough, He don’t need der help. All de world is His; and He can send clo’es to His naked, an’ bread to His hungry, an’ Bibles to His heathen, if dey don’t give a cent; but den dey're pinchin’ an’ starvin’ der own dear souls. Well—'taint my soul! But I loves ’em—I loves em, an’ dey’re missin’ a great blessin’.’”’ But there wasno one to hear her comment, and affairs followed theiraccustomed routine. Mean- while, out of her own little store, she carefully laid aside one-eighth. ‘‘*Cause if dem ole Israel- ites was tol’ to give one-tenth, I’d jist like to frow in a little more, for good measure. Talk *bout it’s bein like a tax to put some away for such things! ’Clare! I get studyin’ what each dollar mus’ do, till I get ’em so loadened up “¢Q de Lamb! de lovin’ Lamb! De Lamb of Calvary! De Lamb dat was slain, an’ lives again, An’ intercedes for me!’”’ 4 ~ emo > A New Heart. An anecdote was published many years ago, concerning the Indian chief Teedyuscung, King of the Delawares. ‘‘One evening he was sit- ting at the fireside of a friend. . Both of them were silently looking at the fire, indulging their own reflections. At length the silence was broken by the friend, who said, ‘I will tell thee what I have been thinking of. I have been thinking of a rule delivered by the au- thor of the Christian religion, which, from its words died on her lips; her heart was too bur-| excellence, we call the Golden Rule.’ ‘*«Stop,’ said Teedyuscung, ‘don’t praise it to me, but rather tell me what it is, and Jet me think for myself. I do not wish you to tell me of its excellence; tell me what it is.’ ‘**Tt is for one man to do to another as he would have the other do to him.’”’ ‘««That’s impossible; it cannot be done,’ Teedyuscung immediately replied. Silence again ensued. Teedyuscung lighted his pipe and walked about the room. In about a quarter of an hour he came to his friend with a smiling countenance, and taking the pipe from his mouth, said, ‘ Brother, [have been thoughtful of what you told me. If the Great Spirit that made man would give him a new heart, he could do as you say, but not else.’ Thus the Indian saw the necessity of a new heart.”” —_—__—> - o~o In a Hollow Place. A mother in New York was quietly engaged in her domestic work, when the dreadful news came: ‘“