Part 16

He helped her to her feet, and then, for the first time, he saw that she was blind. Carefully he took her arm, and led her along the road to the inn.

“Sit here and warm yourself,” he said, placing her gently in a comfortable chair. In a few moments he led her to the table, and gave her a good dinner.

On that Thanksgiving Day an angel took up her pen, and struck out all account of the gold piece from the book where the mayor recorded his good deeds. Another angel wrote in the traveler’s book of deeds an account of the old beggar woman’s Thanksgiving dinner at the village inn.--Adapted.

A THANKSGIVING PSALM

Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands. Serve the Lord with gladness: Come unto his presence with singing.

Know ye that the Lord he _is_ God; It is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves; We are his people and the sheep of his pasture. Enter into his gates with thanksgiving And into his courts with praise, Be thankful unto him, _and_ bless his name.

For the Lord is good; his mercy is everlasting: And his truth endureth to all generations. --_Psalm C._

THE CROWN OF THE YEAR

Ah, happy morning of autumn sweet, Yet ripe and rich with summer’s heat.

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Near me each humble flower and weed---- The dock’s rich umber, gone to seed, The hawk-bit’s gold, the bayberry’s spice, One late wild rose beyond all price; Each is a friend and all are dear, Pathetic signs of the waning year.

The painted rose-leaves, how they glow! Like crimson wine the woodbines show; The wholesome yarrow’s clusters fine, Like frosted silver dimly shine; And who thy quaintest charm shall tell, Thou little scarlet pimpernel?

In the mellow, golden autumn days, When the world is zoned in their purple haze, A spirit of beauty walks abroad, That fills the heart with peace of God; The spring and summer may bless and cheer, But autumn brings us the crown o’ the year. CELIA THAXTER.