rboard from the _Mayflower_ in Provincetown harbour while
her husband was coasting along the bleak shore in search of a place
for a home.

The first Thanksgiving took place nearly three hundred years ago.
Since that time, almost without interruption, Thanksgiving has been
kept by the people of New England as the great family festival of the
year. At this time children and grandchildren return to the old home,
the long table is spread, and brothers and sisters, separated often by
many miles, again sit side by side.

To-day Thanksgiving is observed in nearly all the states of the Union,
a season of sweet and blessed memories.

THANKSGIVING AT TODD'S ASYLUM[6]

By Winthrop Packard.

Many a chuckle lies in wait for the reader in the pages of
this story. And the humour is of the sweet, mellow sort that
sometimes brings moisture to the eyes as well as laughter to
the lips.

People said that if it had not been for that annuity Eph Todd would
have been at the poor farm himself instead of setting up a rival to
it; but there _was_ the annuity, and that was the beginning of Todd's
asylum.

[Footnote 6: From the _Outlook_, November 19, 1898.]

No matter who or what you were, if you were in hard luck, Todd's
asylum was open to you. The No. 4 district schoolhouse clock was a
sample. For thirty years it had smiled from the wall upon successive
generations of scholars, until, one day, bowed with years and
infirmities, it had ceased to tick. It had been taken gently down,
laid out on a desk in state for a day or two, and finally was in
funeral procession to the rubbish heap when Eph Todd appeared.

"You're not going to throw that good old clock away?" Eph had asked of
the committeeman who acted as bearer.

"Guess I'll have to," replied the other. "I've wound it up tight, put
'most a pint of kerosene in it, and shook it till I'm dizzy, and it
won't tick a bit. Guess the old clock's done for."

"Now see here," said Eph; "you just let me have a try at it. Let me
take it home a spell."

"Oh, for that matter I'll give it to you," the committeeman replied.
"We've bought another for the schoolhouse."

A day or two after the old clock ticked away as soberly as ever on the
wall of the Todd kitchen.

"Took it home and boiled it in potash," Eph used to say; "and there it
is, just as good as it was thirty years ago."

This was true, with restrictions, for enough enamel was gone from the
face to make