Kevin Stilley

  • Home
  • Blog Posts
  • On the Air
  • Quotes
  • Site Archive

May 23, 2014 by kevinstilley

How Many?

There are 31,557,600 seconds in a year.

56,000,000 people go to Major League baseball games each year.

The average American will eat 35,000 cookies in their lifetime.

Coffee is the most popular beverage worldwide with over 400 billion cups consumed each year.

Americans consumed 76 billion pounds of red meat and poultry in the year 2000, up 21% from a decade earlier.

Americans consume 29 billion, or 58 percent, of the 50 billion aspirin tablets which are taken worldwide each year.

Golfers use an estimated $800 million worth of golf balls annually.

There are more than 900,000 known species of insects in the world.

Annually, approximately 46 millions Cokes, five million pounds of french fries, and seven million hamburgers are consumed at Walt Disney World Resort.

The Mills Brothers have recorded more songs than any other artist(s): about 2,250.

Over 40 percent of the women in the U.S. were in the Girl Scouts organization. Two-thirds of the women listed in “Who’s Who of Women” were Girl Scouts.

In any given week, an average of 2.3 million Americans are on paid vacation.

By the time a child finishes elementary school he/she will have witnessed 8,000 murders and 100,000 acts of violence on television.

About twenty-five percent of the population sneezes when they are exposed to light.

The longest alphabet is Cambodian. It has 74 letters compared with the 26 in English.

Over 36 million Americans have Irish ancestry. That’s almost nine times the population of Ireland, which has 4.4 million people.

__________

RELATED

  • Master List of Great Quotes
  • Trivia Compendium

Filed Under: Blog, Front Page, Trivia Tagged With: numbers, Trivia

May 10, 2014 by kevinstilley

Mothers – select quotes

Any mother could perform the jobs of several air traffic controllers with ease.
~ Lisa Alther

The mother’s heart is the child’s schoolroom.
~ Henry Ward Beecher

The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness.
~ Honore de Balzac

If evolution really works, how come mothers only have two hands?
~ Milton Berle

Men are what their mothers made them.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Mother love is the fuel that enables a normal human being to do the impossible.
~ Marion C. Garretty, quoted in A Little Spoonful of Chicken Soup for the Mother’s Soul

It’s not easy being a mother. If it were easy, fathers would do it.
~ Dorothy on The Golden Girls

A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.
~ Washington Irving

A father may turn his back on his child, brothers and sisters may become inveterate enemies, husbands may desert their wives, wives their husbands. But a mother’s love endures through all.
~ Washington Irving

All that I am or ever hope to be I owe to my angel mother.
~ Abraham Lincoln

I remember my mother’s prayers and they have always followed me. They have clung to me all my life. ~ Abraham Lincoln

The bravest battle that ever was fought;
Shall I tell you where and when?
On the maps of the world you will find it not;
It was fought by the mothers of men.
~ Joaquin Miller

Grown don’t mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown? What’s that suppose to mean? In my heart it don’t mean a thing.
~ Toni Morrison, in Beloved

Few women realize what great service they are doing for mankind and for the kingdom of christ when the provide a shelter for the family and good mothering—the foundation on which all else is built. A mother builds something far more magnificent than any cathedral—the dwelling place for an immortal soul.
~ Dorothy Patterson, in Recovering Biblical Manhood and Womanhood

God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers.
~ Jewish proverb

An ounce of mother is worth a pound of clergy.
~ Spanish Proverb

Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the place to make it well?
My Mother.
~ Anne Taylor

Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of children.
~ William M. Thackeray

All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That’s his.
~ Oscar Wilde in The Importance of Being Earnest

Filed Under: Blog, Front Page, Quotes Tagged With: Blog, children, mother, motherhood, mothers day, parent, Quotes

February 28, 2014 by kevinstilley

C.S. Lewis – select quotes

A book which is enjoyed only by children is a bad children’s story. The good ones last. A book which is not worth reading at age 50 is not worth reading at age 10.
~ in “On Three Ways of Writing for Children”

But if the lords were glum, the common people in the streets were huzzaing and throwing caps in the air. It would have puffed me up if I had not looked in their faces. There I could read their mind easily enough. Neither I nor Glome was in their thoughts. Any fight was a free show for them; and a fight of a woman with a man better still because an oddity–as those who can’t tell one tune from another will crowd to hear the harp if a man plays it with his toes.
~ Character in Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold

Christianity, if false, is of no importance, and if true, of infinite importance. The only thing it cannot be is moderately important.

Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art…. It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival.

From all my lame defeats and oh! much more
From all the victories that I seem to score;
From cleverness shot forth on Thy behalf
At which, while angels weep, the audience laugh;
From all my proofs of Thy divinity
Thou, who wouldst give no other sign, deliver me
Thoughts are but coins. Let me not trust instead
Of Thee, their thin-worn image of my head.
From all my thoughts, even from my thoughts of Thee
O thou fair Silence, fall, and set me free.
Lord of the narrow gate and the needle’s eye,
Take me from all my trumpery lest I die.
~ The Apologists Evening Prayer

God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts to us in our pains. Suffering is God’s megaphone to rouse a deaf world.

Good and evil both increase at compound interest. That is why the little decisions you and I make every day are of such infinite importance.

He that but looketh on a plate of ham and eggs to lust after it hath already committed breakfast with it in his heart.

He wants a child’s heart, but a grown up’s head.

He who converts his neighbour has performed the most practical Christian-political act of all.
~ in God in the Dock

Human history is the long terrible story of man trying to find something other than God which will make him happy.

I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.

I didn’t go to religion to make me happy. I always knew a bottle of Port would do that. If you want a religion to make you feel really comfortable, I certainly don’t recommend Christianity.

I had known Redival’s tears ever since I could remember. They were not wholly feigned, nor much dearer than ditchwater…. It’s likely enough she meant less mischief than she had done (she never knew how much she meant) and was now, in her fashion, sorry; but a new brooch, much more a new lover, would have had her drying her eyes and laughing in no time.
~ Character in Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold

I want God, not my idea of God.

If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.

If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair.

It burned me from within. It quickened; I was with book, as a woman is with child.
~ Character in Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold

It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.

The one sin the gods never forgive us is that of being born women.
~ Character in Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold

The safest road to hell is the gradual one—the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts.

There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal.

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless–it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.

We all want progress, but if you’re on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road; in that case, the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive.

“We’ve had scores of matches together. The gods never made anyone–man or woman–with a better natural gift for it. Oh, Lady, Lady, it’s a thousand pities they didn’t make you a man.” (He spoke it as kindly and heartily as could be; as if a man dashed a gallon of cold water in your broth and never doubted you’d like it all the better.)
~ Character in Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold

When I fail as a critic I may yet be useful as a specimen.

Yet it surprised me that he should have said it; for I did not yet know that, if you are ugly enough, all men (unless they hate you deeply) soon give up thinking of you as a woman at all.
~ Character in  Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold

A man can eat his dinner without understanding exactly how food nourishes him. A man can accept what Christ has done without knowing how it works: indeed, he certainly would not know how it works until he has accepted it.

We have a strange illusion that mere time cancels sin. But mere time does nothing either to the fact or the guilt of sin.

We ought to give thanks for all fortune: if it is good, because it is good, if bad, because it works in us patience, humility, and the contempt of this world along with the hope of our eternal country.

__________

Book Cover

__________

RELATED

  • Master List of Great Quotes


Filed Under: Blog, Front Page, Quotes Tagged With: Apologetics, C.S. Lewis, quotations, Quotes, Theology, wisdom

February 14, 2014 by kevinstilley

Winston Spencer Churchill – select quotes

winston churchill

“What shall I do with my books?” was the question; and the answer “Read them” sobered the questioner. “But if you cannot read them, at any rate handle them and, as it were, fondle them. Peer into them. Let them fall open where they will. Read on from the very first sentence that arrests the eye. Then turn to another. Make a voyage of discovery, taking soundings of uncharted seas. . . . Arrange them on your own plan, so that if you do not know what is in them, you at least know where they are. If they cannot be your friends, let them at any rate be your acquaintances. If they cannot enter the circle of your life, do not deny them at least a nod of recognition.”

A baboon in a forest is a matter of legitimate speculation; a baboon in a zoo is an object of public curiosity; but a baboon in your wife’s bed is a cause of the gravest concern.
~ in regard to the growing German threat

Battles are won by slaughter and manoeuvre. The greater the general, the more he contributes in manoeuvre, the less he demands in slaughter.
~ Winston Churchill, The World Crisis, vol. 2

I would make them all learn English: and then I would let the clever ones learn Latin as an honor, and Greek as a treat.
~ in Roving Commission: My Early Life

Never believe any war will be smooth and easy or that anyone who embarks on that strange voyage can measure the tides and hurricanes he will encounter. The statesman who yields to war fever must realize that once the signal is given, he is no longer the master of policy but the slave of unforeseeable and uncontrollable events… incompetent or arrogant commanders, untrustworthy allies, hostile neutrals, malignant fortune, ugly surprise, awful miscalculations. … Always remember, however sure you are that you could easily win, that there would not be a war if the other man did not think he also had a chance.
~ as quoted in This Time It’s Our War by Leonard Fein

I think a curse should rest on me — because I love this war. I know it’s smashing and shattering the lives of thousands every moment — and yet — I can’t help it — I enjoy every second of it.
~ in a letter to a friend, 1916

It is a good thing for an uneducated man to read books of quotations. Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations is an admirable work, and I studied it intently. The quotations when engraved upon the memory give you good thoughts. They also make you anxious to read the authors and look for more.
~ in Roving Commission: My Early Life, chapter 9

I now began for the first time to envy those young cubs at the university who had fine scholars to tell them what was what; professors who had devoted their lives to mastering and focusing ideas in every branch of learning; who were eager to distribute the treasures they had gathered before they were overtaken by the night. But now I pity undergraduates, when I see what frivolous lives many of them lead in the midst of precious fleeting opportunity. After all, a man’s Life must be nailed to a cross either of Thought or Action. Without work there is no play.
~ in Roving Commission: My Early Life

It is better to be making the news than taking it; to be an actor rather than a critic.
~ in The Story of the Malakand Field Force

How dreadful are the curses which Mohammedanism lays on its votaries! Besides the fanatical frenzy, which is as dangerous in a man as hydrophobia in a dog, there is this fearful fatalistic apathy. The effects are apparent in many countries. Improvident habits, slovenly systems of agriculture, sluggish methods of commerce, and insecurity of property exist wherever the followers of the Prophet rule or live. A degraded sensualism deprives this life of its grace and refinement; the next of its dignity and sanctity. The fact that in Mohammedan law every woman must belong to some man as his absolute property, either as a child, a wife, or a concubine, must delay the final extinction of slavery until the faith of Islam has ceased to be a great power among men. Individual Moslems may show splendid qualities — but the influence of the religion paralyses the social development of those who follow it. No stronger retrograde force exists in the world. Far from being moribund, Mohammedanism is a militant and proselytizing faith. It has already spread throughout Central Africa, raising fearless warriors at every step; and were it not that Christianity is sheltered in the strong arms of science, the science against which it had vainly struggled, the civilisation of modern Europe might fall, as fell the civilisation of ancient Rome.
~ in The River War, volume II pp. 248–50

The late M. Venizelos observed that in all her wars England—he should have said Britain, of course—always wins one battle – – the last.
~ Winston Churchill, in a speech at the Lord Mayor’s Luncheon in London, on November 10, 1942

What is the use of living, if it be not to strive for noble causes and to make this muddled world a better place for those who will live in it after we are gone? How else can we put ourselves in harmonious relation with the great verities and consolations of the infinite and the eternal? And I avow my faith that we are marching towards better days. Humanity will not be cast down. We are going on swinging bravely forward along the grand high road and already behind the distant mountains is the promise of the sun.
~ in a speech in Dundee, Scotland, 10 October 1908

The truth is incontrovertible. Panic may resent it, ignorance may deride it, malice may distort it, but there it is.
~ in a speech in the House of Commons, May 17, 1916

One may dislike Hitler’s system and yet admire his patriotic achievement. If our country were defeated, I hope we should find a champion as indomitable to restore our courage and lead us back to our place among the nations.
~ in “Hitler and His Choice”, The Strand Magazine, November 1935

Britain and France had to choose between war and dishonour. They chose dishonour. They will have war.
~ to Neville Chamberlain in the House of Commons, after the Munich accords, 1938

I cannot forecast to you the action of Russia. It is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma: but perhaps there is a key. That key is Russian national interest.
~ in a speech broadcast on October 1, 1939

I would say to the House, as I said to those who have joined this Government: ‘I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears, and sweat.’ We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. We have before us many, many long months of struggle and suffering. You ask, what is our policy? I can say: It is to wage war, by sea, land and air, with all our might and with all the strength that God can give us: to wage war against a monstrous tyranny, never surpassed in the dark, lamentable catalogue of human crime. That is our policy. You ask, what is our aim? I can answer in one word: It is victory, victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory, however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival.
~in a speech in the House of Commons, after taking office as Prime Minister, May 13, 1940

Nothing is more exhilarating than to be shot at without result.
~ Winston Churchill, in The Malakand Field Force

The Navy can lose us the war, but only the Air Force can win it.
~ Winston Churchill, to the War Cabinet, September 3, 1940

We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender, and even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this Island or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our Empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the British Fleet, would carry on the struggle, until, in God’s good time, the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the Old.
~ in a speech in the House of Commons, June 4,1940

We shall show mercy, but we shall not ask for it.
~ in a speech in the House of Commons, July 14, 1940

Upon this battle depends the survival of Christian civilisation. Upon it depends our own British life and the long continuity of our institutions and our Empire. The whole fury and might of the enemy must very soon be turned on us now. Hitler knows that he will have to break us in this island or lose the war. If we can stand up to him, all Europe may be free and the life of the world may move forward into broad, sunlit uplands. But if we fail, then the whole world, including the United States, including all that we have known and cared for, will sink into the abyss of a new Dark Age, made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by the lights of perverted science. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, ‘This was their finest hour.’
~ in a speech in the House of Commons, June 18, 1940

The gratitude of every home in our Island, in our Empire, and indeed throughout the world, except in the abodes of the guilty, goes out to the British airmen who, undaunted by odds, unwearied in their constant challenge and mortal danger, are turning the tide of the World War by their prowess and by their devotion. Never in the field of human conflict have so many owed so much to so few. All hearts go out to the fighter pilots, whose brilliant actions we see with our own eyes day after day; but we must never forget that all the time, night after night, month after month, our bomber squadrons travel far into Germany, find their targets in the darkness by the highest navigational skill, aim their attacks, often under the heaviest fire, often with serious loss, with deliberate careful discrimination, and inflict shattering blows upon the whole of the technical and war-making structure of the Nazi power.
~ in a speech in the House of Commons complimenting the pilots in the Royal Air Force during the Battle of Britain, August 20, 1940

If Hitler invaded Hell, I would make at least a favourable reference to the devil in the House of Commons.
~ in a speech after the German invasion of the Soviet Union, June 1941

Never give in — never, never, never, never, in nothing great or small, large or petty, never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.
~ in a speech given at Harrow School, October 29, 1941

Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.
~ in a speech given after the British victory over the German Afrika Korps at the Second Battle of El Alamein in Egypt, November 10, 1942

I hate nobody except Hitler — and that is professional.
~ to John Colville during WWII, quoted by Colville in his book The Churchillians

From Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Adriatic an iron curtain has descended across the Continent.
~ in a speech at Fulton, Missouri, March 5, 1946, regarding Soviet communism and the Cold War

Many forms of Government have been tried and will be tried in this world of sin and woe. No one pretends that democracy is perfect or all-wise. Indeed, it has been said that democracy is the worst form of government except all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.
~ in a speech before the House of Commons, November 11, 1947

No American will think it wrong of me if I proclaim that to have the United States at our side was to me the greatest joy. I could not fortell the course of events. I do not pretend to have measured accurately the martial might of Japan, but now at this very moment I knew the United States was in the war, up to the neck and in to the death. So we had won after all! … Hitler’s fate was sealed. Mussolini’s fate was sealed. As for the Japanese, they would be ground to powder.
~ in The Second World War, Volume III : The Grand Alliance, chapter 12

This was a time when it was equally good t live or die.
~ in Their Finest Hour, 1949

He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire.
~ referring to Sir Stafford Cripps

There’s less to him than meets the eye.
~ referring to Clement Attlee

History will be kind to me, for I intend to write it.

I have always felt that a politician is to be judged by the animosities he excites among his opponents.

I like a man who grins when he fights.

If you are going through hell, keep going.

We shape our buildings. Thereafter, they shape us.

You can always count on the U.S. to do the right thing–once it has exhausted the alternatives.

Success is never final; failure is never fatal.

We shall draw from the heart of suffering itself the means of inspiration and survival.

Men occasionally stumble over the truth, but most of them pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing ever happened.

The inherent vice of Capitalism is the unequal sharing of blessings; the inherent vice of Socialism is the equal sharing of miseries.

A fanatic is one who can’t change his mind and won’t change the subject.

Plans are of little importance, but planning is essential

I like pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.

In time of war, when truth is so precious, it must be attended by a bodyguard of lies.

In war it does not matter who is right, but who is left.

Success is the ability to go from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm.

The biggest argument against democracy is a five minute discussion with the average voter.

The further back I look, the further forward I can see.

The nose of the bulldog is slanted backwards so he can continue to breathe without letting go.

There are a terrible lot of lies going around the world, and the worst of it is half of them are true.

This paper by its very length defends itself against the risk of being read.

War is mainly a catalogue of blunders.

We didn’t come this far because we are made of sugar candy.

When I am abroad, I always make it a rule never to criticise or attack the government of my own country. I make up for lost time when I come home.

When you have to kill a man it costs nothing to be polite.

It’s not enough that we do our best; sometimes we have to do what’s required.

A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.

We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give.

You have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life. ~ Winston Churchill

__________

Related

  • War – Select Quotes
  • Master List of Great Quotes

__________

Book Cover

Filed Under: Blog, Front Page, Politics, Quotes Tagged With: architecture, Blog, Britain, Churchill, History, Latin, Politics, Prime Minister, proverbs, quips, Quotes, wisdom

November 28, 2013 by kevinstilley

Thanksgiving Day Trivia

The first Thanksgiving was celebrated to give thanks to God for helping the Pilgrims of Plymouth Colony survive the brutal winter. Fifty-three pilgrims and ninety Indians from the Wampanoag tribe participated. The feast included fowl, venison, fish, lobster, clams, berries, fruit, pumpkin, and squash.

During the eighteenth century days set aside for thanksgiving were often days of fasting rather than feasting.

The first national Proclamation of Thanksgiving was initiated by the Continental Congress in 1777.

Following the example of the Continental Congress, George Washington issued a Thanksgiving Day proclamation in 1789.

President Thomas Jefferson scoffed at the idea of a national day of Thanksgiving, calling it “the most ridiculous idea” ever conceived.

Sarah Josepha Hale was an influential magazine editor and author who waged a relentless campaign to make Thanksgiving a national holiday in the mid-19th century. She was also the author of the classic nursery rhyme “Mary Had a Little Lamb.

President Abraham Lincoln issued an 1863 decree proclaiming a day of national thanksgiving.

Texas Governor Oren Roberts refused to issue a Thanksgiving proclamation, saying that Thanksgiving was a “damn Yankee tradition”.

Thanksgiving is celebrated on the fourth Thursday of November in the United States and on the second Monday of October in Canada.

Thanksgiving became a federal holiday in 1941.

Thanksgiving Day and the day following are paid holidays for 78% of the American workforce.  Employees of retail operations are a notable exception for whom Black Friday, the Friday following Thanksgiving, is one of busiest work days of the year.

Approximately 80 percent of Americans traveling during the Thanksgiving holidays (31.2 million) travel by automobile, 12 percent (4.7 million) by airplane and the rest (2.8 million) by other modes of transportation.

Nearly 50 million people watch the annual Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade; 3 million attend it in person and the rest watch it on television.

88% of Americans eat turkey on Thanksgiving Day.

Of all the turkeys consumed in the United States during a year, approximately 20% are eaten during the Thanksgiving holiday.

The first TV dinners were created in 1953 when someone at Swanson overestimated the number of turkeys Americans would consume for Thanksgiving. Inspired by prepackaged airline food, Gary Thomson, a company representative, combined the leftover turkeys with dressing, peas and potatoes in aluminum trays and thus TV dinners were invented.

__________

Related:

  • Thanksgiving – select quotes
  • A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving
  • Insufficiently Thankful
  • Abraham Lincoln’s Declaration of Thanksgiving
  • 1st National Proclamation of Thanksgiving
  • A Thanksgiving Pop Quiz
  • An Old-Fashioned Thanksgiving
  • A Thanksgiving Poem

 

thanksgivingA

The First Thanksgiving, by Jean Leon Gerome Ferris

Thanksgiving B

The First Thanksgiving at Plymouth, by Jennie A. Brownscombe

Filed Under: Blog, Front Page

November 28, 2013 by kevinstilley

A Thanksgiving Poem

A Thanksgiving Poem
by Paul Laurence Dunbar

The sun hath shed its kindly light,
Our harvesting is gladly o’er,
Our fields have felt no killing blight,
Our bins are filled with goodly store.

From pestilence, fire, ‘flood, and sword
We have been spared by thy decree,
And now with humble hearts, O Lord,
We come to pay our thanks to thee.

We feel that had our merits been
The measure of thy gifts to us,
We erring children, born of sin,
Might not now be rejoicing thus.

No deed of ours hath brought us grace;
When thou wert nigh our sight was dull,
We hid in trembling from thy face,
But thou, O God, wert merciful.

Thy mighty hand o’er all the land
Hath still been open to bestow
Those blessings which our wants demand
From heaven, whence all blessings flow.

Thou hast, with ever watchful eye,
Looked down on us with holy care,
And from thy storehouse in the sky
Hast scattered plenty everywhere.

Then lift we up our songs of praise
To thee, O Father, good and kind;
To thee we consecrate our days;
Be thine the temple of each mind.

With incense sweet our thanks ascend;
Before thy works our powers pall;
Though we should strive years without end,
We could not thank thee for them all.

__________

Related:

  • Thanksgiving – select quotes
  • A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving
  • Insufficiently Thankful
  • Abraham Lincoln’s Declaration of Thanksgiving
  • 1st National Proclamation of Thanksgiving
  • A Thanksgiving Pop Quiz
  • An Old-Fashioned Thanksgiving

Filed Under: Blog, Front Page Tagged With: poem, poetry, Thanksgiving

November 28, 2013 by kevinstilley

An Old-Fashioned Thanksgiving

by Louisa May Alcott

SIXTY YEARS AGO, up among the New Hampshire hills, lived Farmer Bassett, with a houseful of sturdy sons and daughters growing up about him. They were poor in money, but rich in land and love, for the wide acres of wood, corn, and pasture land fed, warmed, and clothed the flock, while mutual patience, affection, and courage made the old farmhouse a very happy home.

November had come; the crops were in, and barn, buttery, and bin were overflowing with the harvest that rewarded the summer`s hard work. The big kitchen was a jolly place just now, for in the great fireplace roared a cheerful fire; on the walls hung garlands of dried apples, onions, and corn; up aloft from the beams shone crook-necked squashes, juicy hams, and dried venison–for in those days deer still haunted the deep forests, and hunters flourished. Savory smells were in the air; on the crane hung steaming kettles, and down among the red embers copper saucepans simmered, all suggestive of some approaching feast.

A white-headed baby lay in the old blue cradle that had rocked six other babies, now and then lifting his head to look out, like a round, full moon, then subsided to kick and crow contentedly, and suck the rosy apple he had no teeth to bite. Two small boys sat on the wooden settle shelling corn for popping, and picking out the biggest nuts from the goodly store their own hands had gathered in October. Four young girls stood at the long dresser, busily chopping meat, pounding spice, and slicing apples; and the tongues of Tilly, Prue, Roxy, and Rhody went as fast as their hands. Farmer Bassett, and Eph, the oldest boy, were “chorin` `round” outside, for Thanksgiving was at hand, and all must be in order for that time-honored day.

To and fro, from table to hearth, bustled buxom Mrs. Bassett, flushed and floury, but busy and blithe as the queen bee of this busy little hive should be.

“I do like to begin seasonable and have things to my mind. Thanksgivin` dinners can`t be drove, and it does take a sight of victuals to fill all these hungry stomicks,” said the good woman, as she gave a vigorous stir to the great kettle of cider applesauce, and cast a glance of housewifely pride at the fine array of pies set forth on the buttery shelves.

“Only one more day and then it will be the time to eat. I didn`t take but one bowl of hasty pudding this morning, so I shall have plenty of room when the nice things come,” confided Seth to Sol, as he cracked a large hazelnut as easily as a squirrel.

“No need of my starvin` beforehand. I always have room enough, and I`d like to have Thanksgiving every day,” answered Solomon, gloating like a young ogre over the little pig that lay near by, ready for roasting.

“Sakes alive, I don`t, boys! It`s a marcy it don`t come but once a year. I should be worn to a thread paper with all this extra work atop of my winter weavin` and spinnin`,” laughed their mother, as she plunged her plump arms into the long bread trough and began to knead the dough as if a famine were at hand.

Tilly, the oldest girl, a red-cheeked, black-eyed lass of fourteen, was grinding briskly at the mortar, for spices were costly, and not a grain must be wasted. Prue kept time with the chopper, and the twins sliced away at the apples till their little brown arms ached, for all knew how to work, and did so now with a will.

“I think it`s real fun to have Thanksgiving at home. I`m sorry Gran`ma is sick, so we can`t go there as usual, but I like to mess `round here, don`t you, girls?” asked Tilly, pausing to take a sniff at the spicy pestle.

“It will be kind of lonesome with only our own folks.” “I like to see all the cousins and aunts, and have games, and sing,” cried the twins, who were regular little romps, and could run, swim, coast, and shout as well as their brothers.

“I don`t care a mite for all that. It will be so nice to eat dinner together, warm and comfortable at home,” said quiet Prue, who loved her own cozy nooks like a cat.

“Come, girls, fly `round and get your chores done, so we can clear away for dinner jest as soon as I clap my bread into the oven,” called Mrs. Bassett presently, as she rounded off the last loaf of brown bread which was to feed the hungry mouths that seldom tasted any other.

“Here`s a man comin` up the hill lively!” “Guess it`s Gad Hopkins. Pa told him to bring a dezzen oranges, if they warn`t too high!” shouted Sol and Seth, running to the door, while the girls smacked their lips at the thought of this rare treat, and Baby threw his apple overboard, as if getting ready for a new cargo.

But all were doomed to disappointment, for it was not Gad, with the much-desired fruit. It was a stranger, who threw himself off his horse and hurried up to Mr. Bassett in the yard, with some brief message that made the farmer drop his ax and look so sober that his wife guessed at once some bad news had come; and crying, “Mother`s wuss! I know she is!” Out ran the good woman, forgetful of the flour on her arms and the oven waiting for its most important batch.

The man said old Mr. Chadwick, down to Keene, stopped him as he passed, and told him to tell Mrs. Bassett her mother was failin` fast, and she`d better come today. He knew no more, and having delivered his errand he rode away, saying it looked like snow and he must be jogging, or he wouldn`t get home till night.

“We must go right off, Eldad. Hitch up, and I`ll be ready in less`n no time,” said Mrs. Bassett, wasting not a minute in tears and lamentations, but pulling off her apron as she went in, with her head in a sad jumble of bread, anxiety, turkey, sorrow, haste, and cider applesauce.

A few words told the story, and the children left their work to help her get ready, mingling their grief for “Gran`ma” with regrets for the lost dinner.

“I`m dreadful sorry, dears, but it can`t be helped. I couldn`t cook nor eat no way now, and if that blessed woman gets better sudden, as she has before, we`ll have cause for thanksgivin`, and I`ll give you a dinner you won`t forget in a hurry,” said Mrs. Bassett, as she tied on her brown silk pumpkin-hood, with a sob for the good old mother who had made it for her.

Not a child complained after that, but ran about helpfully, bringing moccasins, heating the footstone, and getting ready for a long drive, because Gran`ma lived twenty miles away, and there were no railroads in those parts to whisk people to and fro like magic. By the time the old yellow sleigh was at the door, the bread was in the oven, and Mrs. Bassett was waiting, with her camlet cloak on, and the baby done up like a small bale of blankets.

“Now, Eph, you must look after the cattle like a man and keep up the fires, for there`s a storm brewin`, and` neither the children nor dumb critters must suffer,” said Mr. Bassett, as he turned up the collar of his rough coat and put on his blue mittens, while the old mare shook her bells as if she preferred a trip to Keene to hauling wood all day.

“Tilly, put extry comfortables on the beds to-night, the wind is so searchin` up chamber. Have the baked beans and Injun-puddin` for dinner, and whatever you do, don`t let the boys get at the mince-pies, or you`ll have them down sick. I shall come back the minute I can leave Mother. Pa will come to-morrer anyway, so keep snug and be good. I depend on you, my darter; use your jedgment, and don`t let nothin` happen while Mother`s away.”

“Yes`m, yes`m–good-bye, good-bye!” called the children, as Mrs. Bassett was packed into the sleigh and driven away, leaving a stream of directions behind her.

Eph, the sixteen-year-old boy, immediately put on his biggest boots, assumed a sober, responsible manner and surveyed his little responsibilities with a paternal air, drolly like his father`s. Tilly tied on her mother`s bunch of keys, rolled up the sleeves of her homespun gown, and began to order about the younger girls. They soon forgot poor Granny, and found it great fun to keep house all alone, for Mother seldom left home, but ruled her family in the good old-fashioned way. There were no servants, for the little daughters were Mrs. Bassett`s only maids, and the stout boys helped their father, all working happily together with no wages but love; learning in the best manner the use of the heads and hands with which they were to make their own way in the world.

The few flakes that caused the farmer to predict bad weather soon increased to a regular snowstorm, with gusts of wind, for up among the hills winter came early and lingered long. But the children were busy, gay, and warm indoors, and never minded the rising gale nor the whirling white storm outside.

Tilly got them a good dinner, and when it was over the two elder girls went to their spinning, for in the kitchen stood the big and little wheels, and baskets of wool rolls ready to be twisted into yarn for the winter`s knitting, and each day brought its stint of work to the daughters, who hoped to be as thrifty as their mother.

Eph kept up a glorious fire, and superintended the small boys, who popped corn and whittled boats on the hearth; while Roxy and Rhody dressed corncob dolls in the settle corner, and Bose, the brindled mastiff, lay on the braided mat, luxuriously warming his old legs. Thus employed, they made a pretty picture, these rosy boys and girls, in their homespun suits, with the rustic toys or tasks which most children nowadays would find very poor or tiresome.

Tilly and Prue sang, as they stepped to and fro, drawing out the smoothly twisted threads to the musical hum of the great spinning wheels. The little girls chattered like magpies over their dolls and the new bedspread they were planning to make, all white dimity stars on a blue calico ground, as a Christmas present to Ma. The boys roared at Eph`s jokes, and had rough and tumble games over Bose, who didn`t mind them in the least; and so the afternoon wore pleasantly away.

At sunset the boys went out to feed the cattle, bring in heaps of wood, and lock up for the night, as the lonely farmhouse seldom had visitors after dark. The girls got the simple supper of brown bread and milk, baked apples, and a doughnut all `round as a treat. Then they sat before the fire, the sisters knitting, the brothers with books or games, for Eph loved reading, and Sol and Seth never failed to play a few games of Morris with barley corns, on the little board they had themselves at one corner of the dresser.

“Read out a piece,” said Tilly from Mother`s chair, where she sat in state, finishing off the sixth woolen sock she had knit that month.

“It`s the old history book, but here`s a bit you may like, since it`s about our folks,” answered Eph, turning the yellow page to look at a picture of two quaintly dressed children in some ancient castle.

“Yes, read that. I always like to hear about the Lady Matildy I was named for, and Lord Bassett, Pa`s great-great-great grandpa. He`s only a farmer now, but it`s nice to know we were somebody two or three hundred years ago,” said Tilly, bridling and tossing her curly head as she fancied the Lady Matilda might have done.

“Don`t read the queer words, `cause we don`t understand `em. Tell it,” commanded Roxy, from the cradle, where she was drowsily cuddled with Rhody.

“Well, a long time ago, when Charles the First was in prison, Lord Bassett was a true friend to him,” began Eph, plunging into his story without delay. “The lord had some papers that would have hung a lot of people if the king`s enemies got hold of `em, so when he heard one day, all of a sudden, that soldiers were at the castle gate to carry him off, he had just time to call his girl to him and say: `I may be going to my death, but I won`t betray my master. There is no time to burn the papers, and I can not take them with me; they are hidden in the old leathern chair where I sit. No one knows this but you, and you must guard them till I come or send you a safe messenger to take them away. Promise me to be brave and silent, and I can go without fear.` You see, he wasn`t afraid to die, but he was to seem a traitor. Lady Matildy promised solemnly, and the words were hardly out of her mouth when the men came in, and her father was carried away a prisoner and sent off to the Tower.”

“But she didn`t cry; she just called her brother, and sat down in that chair, with her head leaning back on those papers, like a queen, and waited while the soldiers hunted the house over for `em: wasn`t that a smart girl?” cried Tilly, beaming with pride, for she was named for this ancestress, and knew the story by heart.

“I reckon she was scared, though, when the men came swearin in and asked her if she knew anything about it. The boy did his part then, for he didn`t know, and fired up and stood before his sister; and he says, says he, as bold as a lion: `If my lord had told us where the papers be, we would die before we would betray him. But we are children and know nothing, and it is cowardly of you to try to fight us with oaths and drawn swords!`”

As Eph quoted from the book, Seth planted himself before Tilly, with the long poker in his hand, saying, as he flourished it valiantly:

“Why didn`t the boy take his father`s sword and lay about him? I would, if any one was ha`sh to Tilly.”

“You bantam! He was only a bit of a boy, and couldn`t do anything. Sit down and hear the rest of it,” commanded Tilly, with a pat on the yellow head, and a private resolve that Seth should have the largest piece of pie at dinner next day, as reward for his chivalry.

“Well, the men went off after turning the castle out of window, but they said they should come again; so faithful Matildy was full of trouble, and hardly dared to leave the room where the chair stood. All day she sat there, and at night her sleep was so full of fear about it, that she often got up and went to see that all was safe. The servants thought the fright had hurt her wits, and let her be, but Rupert, the boy, stood by her and never was afraid of her queer ways. She was `a pious maid,` the book says, and often spent the long evenings reading the Bible, with her brother by her, all alone in the great room, with no one to help her bear her secret, and no good news of her father. At last, word came that the king was dead and his friends banished out of England. Then the poor children were in a sad plight, for they had no mother, and the servants all ran away, leaving only one faithful old man to help them.”

“But the father did come?” cried Roxy, eagerly.

“You`ll see,” continued Eph, half telling, half reading. “Matilda was sure he would, so she sat on in the big chair, guarding the papers, and no one could get her away, till one day a man came with her father`s ring and told her to give up the secret. She knew the ring, but would not tell until she had asked many questions, so as to be very sure, and while the man answered all about her father and the king, she looked at him sharply. Then she stood up and said, in a tremble, for there was something strange about the man: `Sir, I doubt you in spite of the ring, and I will not answer till you pull off the false beard you wear, that I may see your face and know if you are my father`s friend or foe.` Off came the disguise, and Matilda found it was my lord himself, come to take them with him out of England. He was very proud of that faithful girl, I guess, for the old chair still stands in the castle, and the I name keeps in the family, Pa says, even over here, where some of the Bassetts came along with the Pilgrims.”

“Our Tilly would have been as brave, I know, and she looks like the old picter down to Gran` ma`s, don`t she, Eph?” cried Prue, who admired her bold, bright sister very much.

“Well, I think you`d do the settin` part best, Prue, you are so patient. Till would fight like a wild cat, but she can`t hold her tongue worth a cent” answered Eph; whereat Tilly pulled his hair, and the story ended with a general frolic.

When the moon-faced clock behind the door struck nine, Tilly tucked up the children under the “extry cornfortables,” and having kissed them all around, as Mother did, crept into her own nest, never minding the little drifts of snow that sifted in upon her coverlet between the shingles of the roof, nor the storm that raged without.

As if he felt the need of unusual vigilance, old Bose lay down on the mat before the door, and pussy had the warm hearth all to herself. If any late wanderer had looked in at midnight, he would have seen the fire blazing up again, and in the cheefful glow the old cat blinking her yellow eyes, as she sat bolt upright beside the spinning wheel, like some sort of household goblin, guarding the children while they slept.

When they woke, like early birds, it still snowed, but up the little Bassetts jumped, broke the ice in their jugs, and went down with cheeks glowing like winter apples, after a brisk scrub and scramble into their clothes. Eph was off to the barn, and Tilly soon had a great kettle of mush ready, which, with milk warm from the cows made a wholesome breakfast for the seven hearty children.

“Now about dinner,” said the young housekeeper, as the pewter spoons stopped clattering, and the earthen bowls stood empty.

“Ma said, have what we liked, but she didn`t expect us to have a real Thanksgiving dinner, because she won`t be here to cook it, and we don`t know how,” began Prue, doubtfully.

“I can roast a turkey and make a pudding as well as anybody, I guess. The pies are all ready, and if we can`t boil vegetables and so on, we don`t deserve any dinner,” cried Tilly, burning to distinguish herself, and bound to enjoy to the utmost her brief authority.

“Yes, yes!” cried all the boys, “let`s have a dinner anyway; Ma won`t care, and the good victuals will spoil if they ain`t eaten right up.”

“Pa is coming tonight, so we won`t have dinner till late; that will be real genteel and give us plenty of time,” added Tilly, suddenly realizing the novelty of the task she had undertaken.

“Did you ever roast a turkey?” asked Roxy, with an air of deep interest.

“Should you darst to try?” said Rhody, in an awe-stricken tone.

“You will see what I can do. Ma said I was to use my judgment about things, and I`m going to. All you children have got to do is to keep out of the way, and let Prue and me work. Eph, I wish you`d put a fire in the best room, so the little ones can play in there. We shall want the settin-room for the table, and I won t have them pickin` round when we get things fixed,” commanded Tilly, bound to make her short reign a brilliant one.

“I don`t know about that. Ma didn`t tell us to,” began cautious Eph who felt that this invasion of the sacred best parlor was a daring step.

“Don`t we always do it Sundays and Thanksgivings? Wouldn`t Ma wish the children kept safe and warm anyhow? Can I get up a nice dinner with four rascals under my feet all the time? Come, now, if you want roast turkey and onions, plum-puddin` and mince-pie, you`ll have to do as I tell you, and be lively about it.”

Tilly spoke with such spirit, and her suggestion was so irresistible, that Eph gave in, and, laughing good-naturedly, tramped away to heat up the best room, devoutly hoping that nothing serious would happen to punish such audacity.

The young folks delightedly trooped away to destroy the order of that prim apartment with housekeeping under the black horsehair sofa, “horseback-riders” on the arms of the best rocking chair, and an Indian war dance all over the well-waxed furniture. Eph, finding the society of peaceful sheep and cows more to his mind than that of two excited sisters, lingered over his chores in the barn as long as possible, and left the girls in peace.

Now Tilly and Prue were in their glory, and as soon as the breakfast things were out of the way, they prepared for a grand cooking time. They were handy girls, though they had never heard of a cooking school, never touched a piano, and knew nothing of embroidery beyond the samplers which hung framed in the parlor; one ornamented with a pink mourner under a blue weeping willow, the other with this pleasing verse, each word being done in a different color, which gave the effect of a distracted rainbow:

This sampler neat was worked by me,
In my twelfth year, Prudence B.

Both rolled up their sleeves, put on their largest aprons, and got out all the spoons, dishes, pots, and pans they could find, “so as to have everything handy,” Prue said.

“Now, sister, we`ll have dinner at five; Pa will be here by that time, if he is coming tonight, and be so surprised to find us all ready, for he won`t have had any very nice victuals if Gran`ma is so sick,” said Tilly, importantly. “I shall give the children a piece at noon” (Tilly meant luncheon); “doughnuts and cheese, with apple pie and cider, will please `em. There`s beans for Eph; he likes cold pork, so we won`t stop to warm it up, for there`s lots to do, and I don`t mind saying to you I`m dreadful dubersome about the turkey.”

“It`s all ready but the stuffing, and roasting is as easy as can be. I can baste first-rate. Ma always likes to have me, I`m so patient and stiddy, she says,” answered Prue, for the responsibility of this great undertaking did not rest upon her, so she took a cheerful view of things.

“I know, but it`s the stuffin` that troubles me,” said Tilly, rubbing her round elbows as she eyed the immense fowl laid out on a platter before her. “I don`t know how much I want, nor what sort of yarbs to put in, and he`s so awful big, I`m kind of afraid of him.”

“I ain`t! I fed him all summer, and he never gobbled at me. I feel real mean to be thinking of gobbling him, poor old chap,” laughed Prue, patting her departed pet with an air of mingled affection and appetite.

“Well, I`ll get the puddin` off my mind fust, for it ought to bile all day. Put the big kettle on, and see that the spit is clean, while I get ready.”

Prue obediently tugged away at the crane, with its black hooks, from which hung the iron teakettle and three-legged pot; then she settled the long spit in the grooves made for it in the tall andirons, and put the dripping pan underneath, for in those days meat was roasted as it should be, not baked in ovens.

Meantime Tilly attacked the plum pudding. She felt pretty sure of coming out right, here, for she had seen her mother do it so many times, it looked very easy. So in went suet and fruit; all sorts of spice, to be sure she got the right ones, and brandy instead of wine. But she forgot both sugar and salt, and tied it in the cloth so tightly that it had no room to swell, so it would come out as heavy as lead and as hard as a cannonball, if the bag did not burst and spoil it all. Happily unconscious of these mistakes, Tilly popped it into the pot, and proudly watched it bobbing about before she put the cover on and left it to its fate.

“I can`t remember what flavorin` Ma puts in,” she said, when she had got her bread well soaked for stuffing. “Sage and onions and applesauce go with goose, but I can`t feel sure of anything but pepper and salt for a turkey.”

“Ma puts in some kind of mint, I know, but I forget whether it is spearmint, peppermint, or pennyroyal,” answered Prue, in a tone of doubt, but trying to show her knowledge of “yarbs,” or, at least, of their names.

“Seems to me it`s sweet majoram or summer savory. I guess we`ll put both in, and then we are sure to be right. The best is up garret; you run and get some, while I mash the bread,” commanded Tilly, diving into the mess.

Away trotted Prue, but in her haste she got catnip and wormwood, for the garret was darkish, and Prue`s little nose was so full of the smell of the onions she had been peeling, that everything smelt of them. Eager to be of use, she pounded up the herbs and scattered the mixture with a liberal hand into the bowl.

“It doesn`t smell just right, but I suppose it will when it is cooked,” said Tilly, as she filled the empty stomach, that seemed aching for food, and sewed it up with the blue yarn, which happened to be handy. She forgot to tie down his legs and wings, but she set him by till his hour came, well satisfied with her work.

“Shall we roast the little pig, too? I think he`d look nice with a necklace of sausages, as Ma fixed him at Christmas,” asked Prue, elated with their success.

“I couldn`t do it. I loved that little pig, and cried when he was killed. I should feel as if I was roasting the baby,” answered Tilly, glancing toward the buttery where piggy hung, looking so pink and pretty it certainly did seem cruel to eat him.

It took a long time to get all the vegetables ready, for, as the cellar was full, the girls thought they would have every sort. Eph helped, and by noon all was ready for cooking, and the cranberry sauce, a good deal scorched, was cooking in the lean-to.

Luncheon was a lively meal, and doughnuts and cheese vanished in such quantities that Tilly feared no one would have an appetite for her sumptuous dinner. The boys assured her they would be starving by five o`clock, and Sol mourned bitterly over the little pig that was not to be served up.

“Now you all go and coast, while Prue and I set the table and get out the best chiny,” said Tilly, bent on having her dinner look well, no matter what its other failings might be.

Out came the rough sleds, on went the round hoods, old hats, red cloaks, and moccasins, and away trudged the four younger Bassetts, to disport themselves in the snow, and try the ice down by the old mill, where the great wheel turned and splashed so merrily in the summertime.

Eph took his fiddle and scraped away to his heart`s content in the parlor, while the girls, after a short rest, set the table and made all ready to dish up the dinner when that exciting moment came. It was not at all the sort of table we see now, but would look very plain and countrified to us, with its green-handled knives, and two-pronged steel forks, its red-and-white china, and pewter platters, scoured till they shone, with mugs and spoons to match, and a brown jug for the cider. The cloth was coarse, but white as snow, and the little maids had seen the blue-eyed flax grow, out of which their mother wove the linen; they had watched and watched while it bleached in the green meadow. They had no napkins and little silver; but the best tankard and Ma`s few wedding spoons were set forth in state. Nuts and apples at the corners gave an air, and the place of honor was left in the middle for the oranges yet to come.

“Don`t it look beautiful?” said Prue, when they paused to admire the general effect.

“Pretty nice, I think. I wish Ma could see how well we can do it,” began Tilly, when a loud howling startled both girls, and sent them flying to the window. The short afternoon had passed so quickly that twilight had come before they knew it, and now, as they looked out through the gathering dusk, they saw four small black figures tearing up the road, to come bursting in, all screaming at once: “The bear, the bear! Eph, get the gun! He`s coming, he`s coming!”

Eph had dropped his fiddle, and got down his gun before the girls could calm the children enough to tell their story, which they did in a somewhat incoherent manner. “Down in the holler, coastin`, we heard a growl,” began Sol, with his eyes as big as saucers. “I see him fust lookin` over the wall,” roared Seth, eager to get his share of honor.

“Awful big and shaggy,” quavered Roxy, clinging to Tilly, while Rhody hid in Prue`s skirts, and piped out:

“His great paws kept clawing at us, and I was so scared my legs would hardly go.”

“We ran away as fast as we could go, and he came growlin` after us. He`s awful hungry, and he`ll eat every one of us if he gets in,” continued Sol, looking about him for a safe retreat.

“Oh, Eph, don`t let him eat us,” cried both little girls, flying upstairs to hide under their mother`s bed, as their surest shelter.

“No danger of that, you little geese. I`ll shoot him as soon as he comes. Get out of the way, boys,” and Eph raised the window to get good aim.

“There he is! Fire away, and don`t miss!” cried Seth, hastily following Sol, who had climbed to the top of the dresser as a good perch from which to view the approaching fray.

Prue retired to the hearth as if bent on dying at her post rather than desert the turkey, now “browning beautiful,” as she expressed it. But Tilly boldly stood at the open window, ready to lend a hand if the enemy proved too much for Eph.

All had seen bears, but none had ever come so near before, and even brave Eph felt that the big brown beast slowly trotting up the dooryard was an unusually formidable specimen. He was growling horribly, and stopped now and then as if to rest and shake himself.

“Get the ax, Tilly, and if I should miss, stand ready to keep him off while I load again,” said Eph, anxious to kill his first bear in style and alone; a girl`s help didn`t count.

Tilly flew for the ax, and was at her brother`s side by the time the bear was near enough to be dangerous. He stood on his hind legs, and seemed to sniff with relish the savory odors that poured out of the window.

“Fire, Eph!” cried Tilly, firmly.

“Wait till he rears again. I`ll get a better shot then” answered the boy, while Prue covered her ears to shut out the bang, and the small boys cheered from their dusty refuge among the pumpkins.

But a very singular thing happened next, and all who saw it stood amazed, for suddenly Tilly threw down the ax, flung open the door, and ran straight into the arms of the bear, who stood erect to receive her, while his growlings changed to a loud “Haw, haw!” that startled the children more than the report of a gun.

“It`s Gad Hopkins, tryin` to fool us!” cried Eph, much disgusted at the loss of his prey, for these hardy boys loved to hunt and prided themselves on the number of wild animals and birds they could shoot in a year.

“Oh, Gad, how could you scare us so?” laughed Tilly, still held fast in one shaggy arm of the bear, while the other drew a dozen oranges from some deep pocket in the buffalo-skin coat, and fired them into the kitchen with such good aim that Eph ducked, Prue screamed, and Sol and Seth came down much quicker than they went up.

“Wal, you see I got upsot over yonder, and the old horse went home while I was floundering in a drift, so I tied on the buffalers to tote `em easy, and come along till I see the children playin` in the holler. I jest meant to give `em a little scare, but they run like partridges, and I kep` up the joke to see how Eph would like this sort of company,” and Gad haw-hawed again.

“You`d have had a warm welcome if we hadn`t found you out. I`d have put a bullet through you in a jiffy, old chap,” said Eph, coming out to shake hands with the young giant, who was only a year or two older than himself.

“Come in and set up to dinner with us. Prue and I have done it all ourselves, and Pa will be along soon, I reckon,” cried Tilly, trying to escape.

“Couldn`t, no ways. My folks will think I`m dead ef I don`t get along home, sence the horse and sleigh have gone ahead empty I`ve done my arrant and had my joke; now I want my pay, Tilly,” and Gad took a hearty kiss from the rosy cheeks of his “little sweetheart,” as he called her. His own cheeks tingled with the smart slap she gave him as she ran away, calling out that she hated bears and would bring her ax next time.

“I ain`t afeared–your sharp eyes found me out: and ef you run into a bear`s arms you must expect a hug,” answered Gad, as he pushed back the robe and settled his fur cap more becomingly.

“I should have known you in a minute if I hadn`t been asleep when the girls squalled. You did it well, though, and I advise you not to try it again in a hurry, or you`ll get shot,” said Eph, as they parted, he rather crestfallen and Gad in high glee.

“My sakes alive–the turkey is all burnt one side, and the kettles have biled over so the pies I put to warm are all ashes!” scolded Tilly, as the flurry subsided and she remembered her dinner.

“Well, I can`t help it. I couldn`t think of victuals when I expected to be eaten alive myself, could I?” pleaded poor Prue, who had tumbled into the cradle when the rain of oranges began.

Tilly laughed, and all the rest joined in, so goodhumor was restored, and the spirits of the younger ones were revived by sucks from the one orange which passed from hand to hand with great rapidity while the older girls dished up the dinner. They were just struggling to get the pudding out of the cloth when Roxy called out: “Here`s Pa!”

“There`s folks with him,” added Rhody.

“Lots of `em! I see two big sleighs chock full,” shouted Seth, peering through the dusk.

“It looks like a semintary. Guess Gran`ma`s dead and come up to be buried here,” said Sol, in a solemn tone. This startling suggestion made Tilly, Prue, and Eph hasten to look out, full of dismay at such an ending of their festival.

“If that is a funeral, the mourners are uncommonly jolly,” said Eph, dryly, as merry voices and loud laughter broke the white silence without.

“I see Aunt Cinthy, and Cousin Hetty–and there`s Mose and Amos. I do declare, Pa`s bringin` `em all home to have some fun here,” cried Prue, as she recognized one familiar face after another.

“Oh, my patience! Ain`t I glad I got dinner, and don`t I hope it will turn out good!” exclaimed Tilly, while the twins pranced with delight, and the small boys roared:

“Hooray for Pa! Hooray for Thanksgivin`!”

The cheer was answered heartily, and in came Father, Mother, Baby, aunts, and cousins, all in great spirits; and all much surprised to find such a festive welcome awaiting them.

“Ain`t Gran`ma dead at all?” asked Sol, in the midst of the kissing and handshaking.

“Bless your heart, no! It was all a mistake of old Mr. Chadwick`s. He`s as deaf as an adder, and when Mrs. Brooks told him Mother was mendin` fast, and she wanted me to come down today, certain sure, he got the message all wrong, and give it to the fust person passin` in such a way as to scare me `most to death, and send us down in a hurry. Mother was sittin` up as chirk as you please, and dreadful sorry you didn`t all come.”

“So, to keep the house quiet for her, and give you a taste of the fun, your Pa fetched us all up to spend the evenin`, and we are goin` to have a jolly time on`t, to jedge by the looks of things,” said Aunt Cinthy, briskly finishing the tale when Mrs. Bassett paused for want of breath.

“What in the world put it into your head we was comm`, and set you to gittin` up such a supper?” asked Mr. Bassett, looking about him, well pleased and much surprised at the plentiful table.

Tilly modestly began to tell, but the others broke in and sang her praises in a sort of chorus, in which bears, pigs, pies, and oranges were oddly mixed. Great satisfaction was expressed by all, and Tilly and Prue were so elated by the commendation of Ma and the aunts, that they set forth their dinner, sure everything was perfect.

But when the eating began, which it did the moment wraps were off; then their pride got a fall; for the first person who tasted the stuffing (it was big Cousin Mose, and that made it harder to bear) nearly choked over the bitter morsel.

“Tilly Bassett, whatever made you put wormwood and catnip in your stuffin`?” demanded Ma, trying not to be severe, for all the rest were laughing, and Tilly looked ready to cry.

“I did it,” said Prue, nobly taking all the blame, which caused Pa to kiss her on the spot, and declare that it didn`t do a mite of harm, for the turkey was all right.

“I never see onions cooked better. All the vegetables is well done, and the dinner a credit to you, my dears,” declared Aunt Cinthy, with her mouth full of the fragrant vegetable she praised.

The pudding was an utter failure in spite of the blazing brandy in which it lay–as hard and heavy as one of the stone balls on Squire Dunkin`s great gate. It was speedily whisked out of sight, and all fell upon the pies, which were perfect. But Tilly and Prue were much depressed, and didn`t recover their spirits till dinner was over and the evening fun well under way.

“Blind-man`s bluff,” “Hunt the slipper,” “Come, Philander,” and other lively games soon set everyone bubbling over with jollity, and when Eph struck up “Money Musk” on his fiddle, old and young fell into their places for a dance. All down the long kitchen they stood, Mr. and Mrs. Bassett at the top, the twins at the bottom, and then away they went, heeling and toeing, cutting pigeon-wings, and taking their steps in a way that would convulse modern children with their new-fangled romps called dancing. Mose and Tilly covered themselves with glory by the vigor with which they kept it up, till fat Aunt Cinthy fell into a chair, breathlessly declaring that a very little of such exercise was enough for a woman of her “heft.”

Apples and cider, chat and singing, finished the evening, and after a grand kissing all round, the guests drove away in the clear moonlight which came out to cheer their long drive.

When the jingle of the last bell had died away, Mr. Bassett said soberly, as they stood together on the hearth:

“Children, we have special cause to be thankful that the sorrow we expected was changed into joy, so we`ll read a chapter `fore we go to bed, and give thanks where thanks is due.”

Then Tilly set out the light stand with the big Bible on it, and a candle on each side, and all sat quietly in the firelight, smiling as they listened with happy hearts to the sweet old words that fit all times and seasons so beautifully.

When the good-nights were over, and the children in bed, Prue put her arm round Tilly and whispered tenderly, for she felt her shake, and was sure she was crying:

“Don`t mind about the old stuffin` and puddin`, deary–nobody cared, and Ma said we really did do surprisin` well for such young girls.”

The laughter Tilly was trying to smother broke out then, and was so infectious, Prue could not help joining her, even before she knew the cause of the merriment.

“I was mad about the mistakes, but don`t care enough to cry. I`m laughing to think how Gad fooled Eph and I found him out. I thought Mose and Amos would have died over it, when I told them, it was so funny,” explained Tilly, when she got her breath.

“I was so scared that when the first orange hit me, I thought it was a bullet, and scrabbled into the cradle as fast as I could. It was real mean to frighten the little ones so,” laughed Prue, as Tilly gave a growl.

Here a smart rap on the wall of the next room caused a sudden lull in the fun, and Mrs. Bassett`s voice was heard, saying warningly, “Girls, go to sleep immediate, or you`ll wake the baby.”

“Yes`m,” answered two meek voices, and after a few irrepressible giggles, silence reigned, broken only by an occasional snore from the boys, or the soft scurry of mice in the buttery, taking their part in this old-fashioned Thanksgiving.

Filed Under: Blog, Front Page Tagged With: Louisa May Alcott, Thanksgiving

November 28, 2013 by kevinstilley

Insufficiently Thankful

Sitting at the dinner table my five-year-old volunteered to voice our family prayer.  And, he had plenty of things for which he was thankful, including “gravity” and “ants”.  In five decades of life I don’t believe I have ever thanked God for gravity.  But as my five-year-old pointed out, “Just think what would happen to you without gravity.”  I’m not sure what his thinking was regarding ants.

The Scripture tells us “in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” (1 Thessalonians 5:18) My child’s thankfulness for gravity and ants makes me ask how many blessings are there in my life for which I have failed to be properly thankful.

And you?

__________

Related:

  • Thanksgiving – select quotes
  • A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving
  • Abraham Lincoln’s Declaration of Thanksgiving
  • 1st National Proclamation of Thanksgiving
  • A Thanksgiving Pop Quiz
  • An Old-Fashioned Thanksgiving
  • A Thanksgiving Poem

 

__________

Book Cover

(click on image)

.

Filed Under: Blog, Front Page, Theology Tagged With: 1 Thessalonians 5, Thanksgiving

October 17, 2013 by kevinstilley

Power Corrupts – Select Quotes

Power Corrupts

.

Power is always dangerous. Power attracts the worst and corrupts the best.
~ Edward Abbey

Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men.
~ Lord Acton

My opinion is, and always has been, that absolute power intoxicates alike despots, monarchs, aristocrats, and democrats and jacobins and sans culottes.
~ John Adams

Because power corrupts, society’s demands for moral authority and character increase as the importance of the position increases.
~ John Adams

It is said that power corrupts, but actually it’s more true that power attracts the corruptible. The sane are usually attracted by other things than power.
~ David Brin

The Christian’s goal is not power, but justice. We are to seek to make the institutions of power just, without being corrupted by the process necessary to do this.
~ Charles Colson

If absolute power corrupts absolutely, where does that leave God?
~ George Deacon

In the United States, though power corrupts, the expectation of power paralyzes.
~ John Kenneth Galbraith

Power corrupts the few, while weakness corrupts the many. Hatred, malice, rudeness, intolerance and suspicion are the fruits of weakness.
~ Eric Hoffer, in The Ordeal of Courage

I truly believe that all power corrupts. Such is probably the thinking behind every political film ever made in Hollywood.
~ Elia Kazan

When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man’s concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.
~ John F. Kennedy

Power – Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. But it rocks absolutely, too.
~ Larry Kerston

Power corrupts. Absolute power is kind of neat.
~ John F. Lehman, Jr.

Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.
~ Abraham Lincoln

Unlimited power is apt to corrupt the minds of those who possess it.
~ William Pitt

Access to power must be confined to those who are not in love with it.
~ Plato

Politicians cannot be pure, by definition. Their motives are always mixed. Ambition, power, public adulation, always figure in somehow. Means get confused with ends.
~ Robert Reich, in Locked in the Cabinet. NY: Vintage, 1997, page 10.

Power does not corrupt men; but fools, if they get into a position of power, corrupt it.
~ George Bernard Shaw

If absolute power corrupts absolutely, does absolute powerlessness make you pure?
~ Harry Shearer

Power does not corrupt. Fear corrupts, perhaps the fear of the loss of power.
~ John Steinbeck

Power corrupts, but lack of power corrupts absolutely.
~ Adlai Stevenson

Rule your desires lest your desires rule you.
~ Publius Syrus

Too much liberty corrupts us all.
~ Terence

All Hollywood corrupts; and absolute Hollywood corrupts absolutely.
~ Edmund Wilson

__________

RELATED

Master List of Great Quotes

Conservative vs. Libertarian

Expelled: A Review

Filed Under: Blog, Front Page, Quotes Tagged With: Blog, corruption, corrupts, Leadership, liberty, ownership, political, Politics, power, Quotes

September 14, 2013 by kevinstilley

Marriage – select quotes

.

One man has never married, and that’s his hell; another is, and that’s his plague.
~ Robert Burton, in The Anatomy of Melancholy

Marriage is an adventure, like going to war.
~ G. K. Chesterton

Every woman should marry, and no man.
~ Benjamin Disraeli, in Lothair

Vitium uxoris aut tollendum aut ferendum est. Qui tollit vitium, uxorem commodiorem praestat; qui fert, sese meliorem facit. [A wife’s faults must either be corrected or put up with. Who corrects the faults, makes his wife more pleasant; who puts up with them, makes himself a better man.]
~ Lucius Afranius, in Satirae Menippeae, De Officio mariti

Getting married for sex is like buying a 747 for the free peanuts.
~ Jeff Foxworthy

A man is incomplete until he is married. After that, he is finished.
~ Zsa Zsa Gabor

The institution of marriage makes a parasite of woman, an absolute dependent. It incapacitates her for life’s struggle, annihilates her social consciousness, paralyzes her imagination, and then imposes its gracious protection, which is in reality a snare, a travesty on human character.
~ Emma Goldman

A happy marriage is the union of two good forgivers.
~ Ruth Bell Graham

Once a man’s married he’s absolutely bitched.
~ Ernest Hemingway, in The Three-Day Blow

A good marriage is when you’re married not to someone you can live with, but to someone you really cannot live without.
~ Dr. Howard Hendricks

Marriage: A legal or religious ceremony by which two persons of the opposite sex solemnly agree to harass and spy on each other for ninety-nine years, or until death do them join.
~ Elbert Hubbard

I want my time to be taken up by chores, errands, appointments, and arguments. In other words, I want to get married.
~ Jared Kintz

Marriage is three parts love and seven parts forgiveness of sin.
~ Laozi

Marriage–a book of which the first chapter is written in poetry and the remaining chapters written in prose.
~ Beverly Nichols

I think men who have a pierced ear are better prepared for marriage – they’ve experienced pain and bought jewelry.
~ Rita Rudner

Why does a woman work ten years to change a man’s habits and then complain that he’s not the man she married?
~ Barbra Streisand

If you want to become more like Jesus, I can’t imagine any better thing to do than to get married.
~ Gary Thomas

Yes, your spouse might be difficult to love at times, but that’s what marriage is for–to teach us how to love.
~ Gary Thomas

That is what marriage really means: helping one another to reach the full status of being persons, responsible and autonomous beings who do not run away from life.
~ Paul Tournier

One is the loneliest number that you’ll ever do. Two can be as bad as one. It’s the loneliest number since the number one…
~ Three Dog Night

Some people ask the secret of our long marriage. We take time to go to a restaurant two times a week. A little candlelight, dinner, soft music and dancing. She goes Tuesdays, I go Fridays.
~ Henry Youngman

__________

Related Content

  • Octopus in Love
  • Navajo Marriage Wisdom
  • Test the Strength of Your Marriage

__________

Filed Under: Blog, Family, Front Page, Quotes Tagged With: Blog, bride, Christian wedding, God, groom, love, marriage, Quotes, relationships, wedding

  • « Previous Page
  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5
  • …
  • 27
  • Next Page »

Recent Blog Posts

  • Discussion Questions for “The Language of God”
  • Billy Graham knew where he was going
  • Interesting quotes from “The Impeachment of Abraham Lincoln” by Stephen L. Carter
  • The Bible – select quotes
  • America’s Christian Heritage
  • Christian Involvement In Politics
  • Freedom – select quotes
  • Kevin Stilley on For Christ and Culture Radio
  • Early Western Civilization classroom resources
  • Early Western Civilization Final Exam

Currently Reading

Frankenstein

Twitter Feed

Tweets by @kevinstilley

Connect With Me On Twitter

Follow_me_on_Twitter

Connect With Me On Facebook

Receive My Monthly Newsletter


Copyright © 2022 · Executive Pro Theme on Genesis Framework · WordPress · Log in