Two Men's Thanksgiving Reveries

'M WÊ T Mr. Romain's flne country house there was a great Than k s g i v i n g d inner. Wits, authors, actors and artists of high degrce were to grace the board; for, be it known, Mr. Romain is famous. His books sell the world over. Pens less renowned than his own hang upon his favors. The guests went np the broad steps and were ushered into the handsome parlors. Mrs. Romain received theui; but the great author was not to be seen. The trutb, was Thanksgiving was an anniversary of which he never spoke to a soul; and althougb he intended to be as cheerful and entertaining as possible to his friends, he had been overtaken by melaneholy reminiseence. It had all come from reading a little oíd newspaper, too. Lighting a eigar he walked out and strolled toward the bilis. If his stylish wife and admiring guests iiad been able to photogïapb his mind just then they would havo been surprised. He was thinking of a Thanksgiving twpnty years ago He had been very poor then; hut his early love, his first wife, was with htm. Ile was thinking as he strolled back and forth on the lawu this raorning that that Thanksgiving was the happier. The little poem he had just read jmgled through bis miud. It seerned to have been written especially for him: We were paupers, she and I, And the bread was bard to win: Eut our garret, near the sky, Let tïod's pufest sunlight in. Slie was meanly dressed, you see, In üer faded cotton gown, Eut her smile was heaven to me, And I never saw her frown. W w ere young, and life was sweet. And we loved each other more Vbeu there scarce was food to eat t Anti the wolf was at the door. There was always hope, you know ; We could dream that skies were blue, But my darling had to go Just before the dream came true. The verses drifted through Mr. Romain's mind Hke far off bells, making sweet, sad mnsic. He was back in "the garret near the sky," aud the picture eemed sweeter to liis fancy than all his fine possessions of today. ïie wished he were poor tgain, if poverty could bring back his carly love and his youth. With this thoiighi in his mind he sighing turned toward liome. In a shabby little house on a lonesome hill was a gray haired, dim eyed man, wño looKed out oí a winaow ana saw Mr. Romain strolliug idly by. He, too, sighed. "I don 't understand the rulings of this world," lie said. "There is T'omain, he has everything lie wants. Money and lamo have come at bis cali. Twenty years ago I was rich and be was poor. Now, 1 am growing old in poverty, which 1 hare not brought upon myself by dissipation or recklessness. If I could only go back twenty years to another Thanksgiving," and be sighed again. Mr. Romain went back home to bis distinguished guests. The man who envied him turned to bis table of pork and beans. Both envied the past. Mr. Eomain was still dreamily liumming some lines from the newspaper poem as. he went up the steps of nis handsonie house. They were these: And we loved each other more Wbeo there scarce was food to eat, And the wolf was at the door.