THE SQUIGGSES ARE GRATEFUL.
THANKSGIVING is strictly a New-England day. Its religious element makes it
harmonious with
the well-known sentiment of New England. It is a day for
feasting, and giving thanks unto God for his care and love during the year;
and was observed by the Squiggses, a representative family, in an eminently
characteristic manner. They had chicken for dinner. Mr. Squiggs won the chicken
the night before at a raffle. The day dawned auspiciously. The young Squiggses,
three in number, after a late breakfast, went out to slide on the ice. Mr.
Squiggs proceeded to fix up a length in the back-fence, which had needed
repair for several weeks. Mrs. Squiggs busied herself with the affairs of
the house, in the intricacies of which she was soon completely submerged.
When the church-bells pealed forth their glad notes, calling a grateful people
to the temple of a merciful God to worship him for his goodness, Mr. Squiggs
was trying to saw a barrel in two for a chicken-coop, and was carrying on
like a corsair because of the eccentricity of the saw; and Mrs. Squids was
disembowelling the chicken. At half-past twelve, when the worshippers were
coming from church, Mr. Squiggs was beating the soot out of a length of
stove-pipe; and Mrs. Squiggs was sweeping out the parlor, or "front-room"
as the Squiggses called it. The three little Squiggses, with appetites like
a shark, had returned from the sliding on the ice, being driven therefrom
by hunger, and were huddled about the kitchen-fire, with a dreadful heart-sick
look in their
faces, produced by the dinner-hour, when there is no visible
prospect of a dinner at hand. The kitchen was all confusion; the "front-room"
was cold, and floating with dust, in which Mrs. Squids appeared like a being
of mythology, with red arms, and a towel wrapped about her head; the air
outside was cold and cheerless in the contemplation of an empty stomach;
and the blows on the stove-pipe sounded most dismally. About three o'clock
P.M., the dinner was served. The little Squiggses, having been cuffed alongside
the head by their impatient father, and walked over several times by the
hurrying mother, were in an active condition for an onslaught on the meal,
and fell to work in a most vehement manner. The father, who had omitted to
ask God to bless the food, or to thank him for his mercies, said they acted
like hogs. This was a harsh criticism; but it had no visible effect on their
enthusiasm. When the meal was over, the three boys slid out for the pond,—their
faces shining with the friction of the feast,—the father went out to hunt
up some bits of board for a coal-bin, and the mother went to work to "clear
up." Late in the afternoon the boys returned, having succeeded in swapping
off a three-wheeled wagon for a quart of walnuts. In the evening the father
went down to the saloon and lost seventy-five cents at raffling, and about
ten o'clock returned. The boys, having had a good time, were lying on the
floor close to the stove, asleep; and the mother was busy letting in a square
of dark cloth into the rotunda of a pair of light pants. With the memory
of his losses still upon him, the father intimated to the boys, with his
boot-toes, that it was time to retire, which they did. Then he pulled off
his boots, and moved around in his stocking-feet, occasionally pausing to
make some vivid observation on nut-shells, preceded by that simple but fervent
expression,—
"Ouch!"
Shortly after, the twain retired; and thus closed a day set apart for rejoicing
and thankfulness before God.
[Description: A Peculiar Torture. — Page 224.]