--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Wallace, E. M. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 28 number: 1 published: 1924-11 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: "E. M. Wallace, “Celestine’s Real Thanksgiving,” *Improvement Era 28, no. 1 (November 1924)*: 21–29." source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2801unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera2801unse start_page: 21 end_page: 29 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1924-11) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2801unse publication_year: 1924 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1924, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Celestine’s Real Thanksgiving CELESTINE'S REAL THANKSGIVING By Mrs. E. M. Wallace When Dicky Daring brought home his little bride somewhere in the year of 1912, his friends wondered what he was going to do with her. She wasn't pretty enough for a glass show case, and she couldn't cook; she did not know how to keep house, so she said; but for Dicky dear, she was willing to learn- Dick had big ideas of being a prosperous farmer some day, and when asked what his wife could do to help him out, he answered laconically, "Oh, she's make me happy!" and so it turned out. Celestine Nixon had been spoiled in her bringing up, Mother having always done the heavier of the work and having waited upon her like she was a baby. But she had a sweet, amiable disposition, and nothing seemed too great an undertaking, as long as Darling Dicky was there to aid and dircet her. Some fourteen months afterward an old friend, calling upon them in their simple suburban home, found Dick still at his old job at the foundry, laying up a few dollars at a time toward the little farm home. The little wife, through patient toil and many mis- takes, had learned to be quite a housekeeper, and more. She met her friends at the door with a happy, smiling countenance, and introduced them to her son Deane, a fine lusty boy of three or four months. And such a little mother! It was surely good to see her, and when Dick came in the evening, one had but to look at him to know she had made good as a helpmate. When the war broke out, the call to arms found Dick Daring among the first to volunteer. His people were English, he said, he went overseas early with the Canadian forces, and when the U. S. forces joined them, he was in the ranks and went "over the top" with his friends. Celestine heard from him from the ranks quite regularly for a time; not much, but oh, how she appreciated the little he was allowed to tell her of his life. She had kept a little secret from him when he left. He must not have that to worry him, she said, and she would be brave as he would have had her be. So when he received word there was a little sister to Deane, though his heart yearned toward her, yet he rejoiced at their good fortune. For he felt with his army pay and what they had been able to lay up, she would be provided for, for some time, with economy, and she had learned that lesson with the others during their first year of married life. After some months in action in France, word came he was 11 IMPROVEMENT ERA wounded by a flying shell. A letter came weeks later that he was recovering, and then there was silence. Celestine waited; she hoped, she prayed, but still no further news. What could the matter be? He had written as often as she could have expected before; why not now? Her means were running low. The new baby, with its attendant extras, had exhausted much of her little hoarding. She was well and strong now, and felt she must find employment to help the little folks. This she did quite readily through the aid of the Y. W. C. A. Months of hopeful waiting grew into years, and she concluded that he was either dead or a prisoner in a foreign country. No use of tears or sighs, she must earn a livelihood for her children, and she did it with a patience and persistence of one inured to hardships, but she did it bravely and usually cheerfully. An old suitor of days gone by made tempting offers to her, assuring her that Daring was dead. Tired of battling for a livelihood, discouraged and lonely, she was strogly tempted to listen to his plead- ings. But the guardian angel whispered, "Wait, he will return!" As she hesitated, the opening came that she had longed for- Friends, who were going further West, asked her to accompany them to where she could take up a homestead. She accepted gladly, although she was a little fearful of leaving the old home, lest Dick should return and not find her. Still she went on, thinking that in the long run it would be for the best. Three years of struggle and hardships on her little farm, and she was now beginning to get results. This year they had raised a few bushels of wheat, enough for bread for her little family for a year, she told one of her neighbors, proudly, and a few pounds of good beans, green and ripe, peas, carrots, and potatoes, onions, and a dozen nice squash. "I only had four seeds, but just see what they have done," and she displayed the small store of needful things with pleasure. "Now, come and see Deane's chickens. He is very proud of them." The child came along to show Mr. Bronson his work. "Where did you get your start, Deane? You surely have some fine birds." "Well," the lad explained, "I guess God sent my start, for I wanted some chickens so much, and one morning last spring when I come out to the garden, here was a nice, big, white biddy picking around in the garden hunting something to eat, and acting lonesome like — " he paused for breath for it was a story he loved to tell. The visitor listened attentively to his story, never hinting he had seen that hen before. Deane continued, "After she laid us three dozen and two nice white eggs, me and Lettie counted 'em careful, then she sit on the nest CELESTINE'S REAL THANKSGIVING 23 all day an' wouldn't come off to cat. Then I thought she was sick and told mama, and she laughed and said, 'The old hen just wants to be a mother hen and raise some baby chickens.' So me an' Lettie walked over to old man Corlett's, five miles over there, an' we give him some uv our eggs, 'cause ours wouldn't hatch, Mama said, an* he laughed an' counted me out thirteen of his an' said 'These'll give you a fine start, little man,' and he give me an' Lettie a nice drink of milk an' a cookie, an' we brought the eggs an' fixed her up fine, I tell you. Come an' see, we'll show you how we did it." And with as much pride as and more happiness than a millionaire would show his wares, they showed their neighbor how they managed. An old drygoods box in which their clothes had been packed when they came, had been battened with odds and ends too numerous to mention. A nest, fashioned in one corner of willows and wild grass, a broomstick for a roost and finally, after some marauding wild animal or, possibly, some passing bullet hawk had robbed them of two of their fine flock (for every egg had brought out a good chicken), they manufactured a fence of wild brush and willows, making an enclosure which afforded both shelter and seclusion for the little flock. The visitor leaned against the chicken coop, as he smilingly listened to the ltitle boy's story, and Deane cried out anxiously, "Don't lean against it, or you'l knock it over." The visitor sprang away laughingly, and said, "I'll tell you what we'll do, Deane. This is a banner year for all of us, so if you want to go in with me, we'll sell two or three of these splendid cockerels. They'll bring a good price, for they are fine specimens, and we'll buy materials and build you a regular chicken-house; one that won't tip over if you lean on it." "Yes, and Mr. Corlett said if I'd take them to the fair, at Court- ney, he believed I'd get a first prize, an' that'd help a lot, wouldn't it? Yes, an' that newcomer over there," pointing to a little new house to the left, "said if I'd give him one uv mine he'd give me two uv his biggest roosters, 'cause he wanted a start uv mine, an' his are such big ones thye'd do for Thanksgiving most as good as a turkey." Here little Lettie could keep silent no longer, although she had listened with growing pride, to Deane' s story. "Yes, Sir, 'n Mama says this year we'll have a real Thanksgiving, 'cause God has blessed us with such good things, an' we got lots to Be thankful for. An' we're goin' to have pumpkin pie, only it'll be made uv squash u' course," and she tossed the fair hair from her forehead with one tiny little sun-browned hand, while her eyes lighted like twin stars at the joyous anticipation. "Didn't you remember, dear, what Mama told you about invit- es— " ,, ^ 1 1. "Oh, yes, yes, I 'member Mama. Turning to the visitor she clasped one of his strong brown hands in her baby one and smiling up U IMPROVEMENT ERA into his face said, "Mama, an' Dcane an' me wants you to come an' eat dinner with us, 'cause we're lonesome, an' we thought maybe you wus, too." "And I'll sure come, Lettie, and we'll have the best time ever, won't we?" Had he glanced at Celestine Daring's face just then, he would have seen a quick catching of her breath, as she set her teeth in her lip to keep it from quivering, while she quickly dashed the tears from her eyes. Catching the heart-hungry child in his strong arms he swung her to his shoulder, as they wended their way toward the house to complete plans for the housing of Deane's flock, and for the coming holiday, now only ten days off. A year ago, they had had no Thanksgiving, they had tried to forget there was such a day. A year before that, they had had dinner with the Corletts, and had been brought home in a bobsleigh in a heavy snowstorm. This year things had been so much better all around, they were doubly thankful. The weather had been good, with the prospect of better. Celestine said she must delay no longer for it would keep her busy getting their little home in order, and getting ready for this, to them, great day. As Joe Bronson drove home that day his thoughts were in a turmoil. He had spent ten years in this lonely place, barring the two years spent for Uncle Sam over seas. His place was now prosperous, he could make a little family comfortable. Several times, well-meaning friends asked him why he didn't ask the lonely little neighbor to share his comfortable quarters, but still he hesitated. It had never occurred to him until lately that a woman was so necessary to make a house a home. He went quickly to work to put his home in order; his bedding was washed, floors scrubbed, windows cleaned — and then he looked around to see what other little touches he could add to make it more homelike, as was hers. ***** A tired soldier plodded slowly and unsteadily along the road, weary and worn, weak from long confinement in a southern hospital, several car drivers passed him by, thinking he was intoxicated. One man yelled at him as he staggered along and almost fell in front of the machine which had crowded him from the paved road into the mud. "Keep out of the way, you drunken sot, if you don't want to be run over." A man, did I say? Oh, I must have been mistaken; though he was dressed like a man, and drove a splendid machine, but his speech and attitude bespoke a machine with no more heart than the motor in his roadster. As he whirled by, unheeding the pathetic look the soldier lad gave him, the pallor of his face and the haunted look in his eyes, to- gether with the uniform, soiled and worn, as he raised his appealing CELESTINE'S REAL THANKSGIVING 25 face and stopped, facing the middle of the road — for the momentum of the speeding car almost threw him off his feet — made a strong impression upon the driver of a truck coming behind. This driver had driven a truck across seas, and the mere sight of the uniform would have won a word from him. He seemed to know instinctively what the trouble was, and drew up. "Howdy, comrade, will you ride?" The soldier gratefully ac- cepted and climbed clumsily into the seat beside the truck driver. "I take it you haven't been long out of the hospital, friend," the driver said kindly. "Are you just on your way home?" The soldier man looked at him as if uncertain how to answer. "Oh, you need not be afraid of me- I spent two years over there myself. Didn't happen to get hurt or sick, so I was soon at work again. Besides, the war is over, you know." The boy, he seemed only a boy, though years had left their traces on his countenance, raised his left hand awkwardly and lifted his cap. A thrill of pain and admiration passed over the driver's kindly features, for the motion exposed an ugly scar runing from his left temple up into his hair near the top of his head. "I've just come from the hospital, and am on my way somewhere — I don't seem to know where — I want to go — " he said, and then haltingly and uncertainly, "I guess it's home — I'm looking for." "Where is your home? I'll see if I can help you find it," the driver said heartily. Just then a lurch in the road almost threw him out. The driver caught and held him and looked very straight into the half vacant countenance pityingly. "You're sick, chum. I'm going to find some home for you for awhile." Another bump, and the sick man fell forward knocking his head on the iron frame of the wind- shield, and before the driver had a chance to catch him or stop the truck, he rolled onto the roadside. The driver threw on the brakes, and sprang out, leaned over to examine him. He was only unconscious, not so much from the fall as from the misery still upon him. Hailing another car on the road, the driver asked the occupant if he would help him to get the man to his home which was only a short distance away. "What's the matter with him," the new arrival asked. The driver pointed to the scar, tapped his own forehead and shook his head sadly. "Just come from the hospital. Looks like 'lost wits' from that," again indicating the wound- When Joe Bronson got the soldier boy into his own bed, he went through his few belongings carefully to try to identify him. Here were a few papers carefully fastened inside his coat. First, an honorable discharge from the service; here was the hospital release, he rushed over it greedily, "Lost identity," through the wound, known to a few as, "Daring Dick," because he knew no fear, stopped at nothing that 26 IMPROVEMENT ERA was for the right." It ran on, anyone who can aid in any way to locate his family and friends, — Joe stopped and studied the face, — "Daring Dick," he repeated, then started, "can it be possible, it surely must be — " He quickly laid these things aside, here was a service medal for bravery. He leaned over the unconscious man, and saw a string about his neck; this he drew forth carefully. The sleeper stirred. Joe didn't want him to waken until he had satisfied himself as far as he could. He lifted the trinkets carefuly. A gold ring, marked R. D., and the state from which he came. Then the locket opened and Joe Bronson knew he was going to bring a great happiness not to himself but to her, for there, smiling out at him, was a picture of Celestine Daring and a little boy, who could be none other than Deane, that was certain. He carefully laid it on the sleeper's breast. "I'll let him rest 'til the doctor comes, though I'm sure he will be all right when he comes to again," he said to himself. "God, how happy she will be! No one will ever know how near I came to asking her — " He tightened his lips and drew his shoulders up with a shrug. "And day after tomorrow is Thanksgiving." He sat on the doorstep pondering on the strangeness of fate when the doctor arrived. Together they stood beside him while the doctor made a light examination, then they went to the window and again carefully went through the identification articles, Joe having shown the doctor the ring and locket. "I think you're right, Bronson, I'm not much acquainted with the lady, but we'll investigate at once-" "Why not take him right over there and let him awaken in his own home?" Joe asked. "No. that would not do at all, the sudden shock — " the doctor paused and turned toward the bed. The patient was watching them with a strange light in his eyes. Both men hurried to the bedside; the doctor acting on impulse said, "Hello, Dick, I see you are better, how do you feel now?" His hand went quickly to his head, then he looked at it and back at the watchers, "Where am I, and how — you two are surely Amer- icans— " he glanced suspiciously about — "Yes, we are Americans, arid you are with good, kind friends," the doctor spoke soothingly. Again his hand went to his head, and he looked at it as before. He threw the covers off and drew himself to a sitting postion on the side of the bed. Seeming to recollect something he asked, "Where are -he rest of the fellows? Did they get away all right?" "Sure thing, they did," again the doctor answered reassuringly, "Now you just lie down again and rest, while we tell you what a fine victory they had." He lay down obediently, still studying the room and rubbing his head with his hand. CELESTINE'S REAL THANKSGIVING 27 "You have been ill for some time, Dick, and in the mean time, all the boys are back home, and peace reigns in our glorious land once more." "I thought I was wounded by a bursting shell, and everything around me was shot to hell — " he said quite naturally. "Have I dreamed all that horrible stuff, or what ails me? I don't seem to recollect anything, how long have I been here, and where is this place anyway?" Now both watchers laughed. There was relief in Joe's laugh, and he answered kindly. "This place is in the state of Idaho, the good old U. S. A., it is my ranch, and you have been here only a short time," said Joe; "but you have been in America, quite awhile. You have been ill is the reason you don't recollect. Never mind about that, all in good time; but now tell me who this is-" And he handed him the locket and ring. He started for just a moment. Then a tender smile overspread his features. "That is my identification ring, and this (tenderly) this is my darling wife and son. Bless them, and to think I shall soon see them again." Then springing up again he said, "Did you say I was in Idaho? Why Celestine is in Kansas. How in did I get out here?" The doctor laughed and took up his question, "You must not ask so many questions all at once if you want me to answer you. But let me tell you something. I have heard of your wife, friends of mine said she had taken up a ranch somewhere in this section of the country, and if you'll lay down and sleep until tomorrow, Joe and I will locate her and take you to her." There was no vacancy now, in his looks, but one which is not often seen in the faces of men. "Thank you," and his eyes filled with tears as he settled back on the pillow to rest. "I won't forget this, friend." And he sank into slumber. Joe Bronson watched over the soldier boy until a late hour to be sure he was sleeping all right, he assured himself; but really because he could not have slept. He went several times and looked long at the picture. What a strange mingling of feelings he must have had. He had learned in these three years to love the lonely but ever faithful little woman. Yet given his choice he could not have done better than this, to be able to restore her husband to her. That would be a joyful memory for him in future years- Early the next day, while the patient still slept, Joe went over to his neighbors, and carefully he unfolded the truth. Their conversation so full of tears, sadness, sighs, and tears of joy and gladness, we will not repeat, 'twas too sacred to be given to others. But when he left, there were also traces of tears on his sunburned face, but both were smiling, and as he climbed into the machine he called to her, "I'll bring him 2H IMPROVEMENT ERA over as soon as I can, but he must have his sleep out, and don't look for me over tomorrow." With that he drove away. As the two men drove along later in the day (Joe chose a longer route so he could explain a few things to Dick on the way), Dick couldn't understand how either he, or his wife, came to be way out in Idaho. "All in good time," his friend replied, "it will come back all right in time." As Joe stopped to let his friend down, the door of the little farmhouse flew open, and three happy, beaming faces appeared. He only paused long enough to see that Dick was going to make it all right, then moved on, but he heard in that moment the gladdest cry he had ever heard — "Oh, Dick, Dick darling, you have come back!" 3J: sfc * ♦ H5 When Dick Daring found that he had a baby girl four years old, he sighed, "I surely must have been lost somewhere." The three of them hung around him talking to and loving him. He must learn the truth slowly and by degrees, mama said. He sat with Lettie, his baby, on his knee, while Deane hung around his neck, and Mama arranged the table for the most wonderful dinner ever. "Celestine — " he spoke her name lovingly, "couldn't we spare enough of our joy to share the dinner with our friend Joe, who has done so much for all of us?" "I asked him," she replied, "but he said not this time; after so long a parting we should have this day to ourselves." He motioned Deane to hand him a card from the table. "Can our boy ride the old horse? If you can, Deane, bring him to the door, will you." He was only too happy to do anything Daddy wished, and ran out gladly. In a few minutes he was back at the door with the faithful animal that had done such service for them. "What do you want with him, Papa?" he asked with pride. - "Come here, son, I want your name, too, on this card-" He had written five words, besides the names, "Comrade, come, we want you." And signed, "Dick D." Celestine's name came next, then Deane, and little Lettie said, "But Papa, I can't write my name, only just print it, 'cause I haven't been to school, like Deane has." "That is just as good, lovie. Comrade Joe will understand." So the child painstakingly printed her name, adding a capital D as Papa had done. "Now, Deane, you ride over to Mr. Bronson's place and give him this." And away he went, a very happy little boy. Joe looked at the card, read and re-read it, then looked away in the distance. He saw nothing for there was a mist before his eyes. "What is the matter, Joe, ain't yu ever goin' to come, Mama said we'd wait for you?" And Joe shrugged his shoulders and smil- ingly replied, CELESTINES REAL THANKSGIVING 20 "Sure I'm coming, Dcane, I was just thinking what a fine old Thanksgiving we're all going to have after all, and hoping for many more to follow." And the welcome he received from the happy family repaid him a thousand fold for any heartaches he had felt and any kindnesses he had ever given them. St. Anthony, Idaho. Never Mind When the day is dark and dreary And your body feels quite weary, And your spirit's far from cheery, Never mind. You might get some consolation If you look upon the nation And save up the information That you find. There are others full of trouble: Life is not an empty bubble To the Plebian or the Noble In their line; Just slip on your latest glasses And note everyone that passes, Be they women, lads or lasses, Aren't they fine? Don't you see, it's what you're thinking That's the cause of all your blinking. And your happiness a sinking Out o' sight? Wake up and shake your muscle, And prepare to have a tussle, Making things around you hustle With all your might. And the sun will shine the brighter, And the snowdrops 'pear the whiter, And the load of sorrow lighter That you bear; Keep on whistling an' a humming, Keep on saying ,"Oh, what fun in Making all the blues a running." Then don't care. Rexburg. Idaho. PHINIAS TEMPEST.