ople's hall,
The ballot-box my throne!"

WHITTIER.

=Thanksgiving Day=

Appointed by the President--usually the last Thursday in November.

Now observed as a holiday in all the States, but not a legal holiday in
all. The President's proclamation recommends that it be set apart as a
day of prayer and rejoicing. The day is of New England origin, the first
one being set by Governor Bradford of the Massachusetts colony on
December, 1621. Washington issued a thanksgiving proclamation for
Thursday, December 18, 1777, and again at Valley Forge for May 7, 1778.
The Thanksgiving of the present incorporates many of the genial features
of Christmas. The feast with the Thanksgiving turkey and pumpkin-pie
crowns the day. Even the poorhouse has its turkey. The story of "An
Old-Time Thanksgiving," in "Indian Stories" of this series, well brings
out the original spirit of the day.

=A THANKSGIVING DINNER THAT FLEW AWAY=

BY H. BUTTERWORTH

"Honk!"

I spun around like a top, looking nervously in every direction. I was
familiar with that sound; I had heard it before, during two summer
vacations, at the old farm-house on the Cape.

It had been a terror to me. I always put a door, a fence, or a stone
wall between me and that sound as speedily as possible.

I had just come down from the city to the Cape for my third summer
vacation. I had left the cars with my arms full of bundles, and hurried
toward Aunt Targood's.

The cottage stood in from the road. There was a long meadow in front of
it. In the meadow were two great oaks and some clusters of lilacs. An
old, mossy stone wall protected the grounds from the road, and a long
walk ran from the old wooden gate to the door.

It was a sunny day, and my heart was light. The orioles were flaming in
the old orchards; the bobolinks were tossing themselves about in the
long meadows of timothy, daisies, and patches of clover. There was a
scent of new-mown hay in the air.

In the distance lay the bay, calm and resplendent, with white sails and
specks of boats. Beyond it rose Martha's Vineyard, green and cool and
bowery, and at its wharf lay a steamer.

I was, as I said, light-hearted. I was thinking of rides over the sandy
roads at the close of the long, bright days; of excursions on the bay;
of clam-bakes and picnics.

I was hungry; and before me rose visions of Aunt Targood's f