Thanksgiving on the Edge of the Frontier

On Thanksgiving day it was our privilege to be present at a dinner festival at Robert Weedin's, near Green Lake. Mr. Weedin has, within the past few years, carved from the primeval forest a pleasant home surrounded with all the necessaries of life, and above all, a pleasant, cheerful and happy family of eight children—every member being present. J. Warren Anderson and uncle Daniel Brownfield also shared the festivities. A part of the young folks spent the morning reading and discussing the topics of the day, while a band of Nimrods went to the lake to interview that festive bird, the goose. Soon our band returned, and as the dinner hour approached, our olfactory nerves began to convey some pleasant sensations to the brain. Before we could ascertain the cause, dinner was announced, and at the summons we quickly repaired to a table sumptuously filled to overflowing with eatables that would make the most fanatical epicure feel that it was good to be there. Mrs. Lizzie Weedin acted as chief cook, seconded by her estimable daughters, Mary and Maggie. We cannot say as to the rest, but as 'ye pedagogue' managed to get on the outside of a vast deal of nourishment—not a vestige of turkey remained to tell the story. After drinking wine to the health of all, we retired from the dining room to listen to some of the thrilling adventures of Mr. Brownfield during the early settlement of Washington Territory and Oregon. All the day passed pleasantly, and at night we could look back upon a day well spent.