A Train in a Snowdrift

New York, 1895

When a quarter of a mile east of Southhold Tuesday morning the early Greenport express, bound for Long Island City, butted into a nine-foot snowdrift. The train came to a standstill with a shock, and the locomotive was thrown from the track.

The passengers were shaken up. The pilot of the locomotive was bent double and the air brakes were wrecked, while the forward truck of the passenger car next to the locomotive was also badly shattered. The thermometer was 5 degrees above zero. It took three hours to clear away the drift and get the train back on the track.

—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, NY, Feb. 8, 1895, p. 1.

Dwellings of Eskimos

1901

It is a mistake to suppose that the Eskimos of Greenland live in huts made of ice or snow, even though some of the writers of geographies do say so. The huts in which they pass the winter are rudely conical in shape, a little more than five feet high, made of stone, with the cracks and spaces filled with earth and the whole covered with turf or sod.

A passageway about six feet long and less than three feet square leads to the interior, and there is a small window in the hut directly over the passageway. The hut, which is called an igloo, contains only one room and has built around its sides a rude platform or bench of stone.

When summer arrives, the Eskimos abandon their igloos and dwell in skin tents, called tupics. Huts made of ice and stone are never used except temporarily, as, for example, when they are traveling long distances during the winter or when for some reason they do not return to their winter settlements.

Fits Horse With Snowshoes

1919

Mail Carrier Fulfills Contract Despite Heavy Drifts.

VANCOUVER, B. C., Canada. — By fitting his horse with snowshoes, "Ole the Bear" (A. R. Westerberg) was last week able to live up to the terms of his contract and deliver the mail from Downie Creek to Revelstoke, a distance of forty-five miles, making the trip in three days. Ole built the snowshoes out of birch bark, making them circular and about a foot in diameter. To protect his horse's legs he covered the upper part with old blankets and gunny sacks.

Up the Big Bend district, where Ole takes King George's mail, the snow is several feet deep, and is covered with a breaking crust. A short time ago George Laforme, a packer, lost thirty horses and mules in trying to bring them out over the treacherous surface.

Faithful Shepherd Dogs

1901

A cold spell in Montana killed a sheep herder in the Great Falls district. Two feet of snow covered the range in places, and the thermometer indicated 40 degrees below zero. The herder was frozen to death on the prairies while caring for the sheep, and it was three days before his fate was known to his employers.

Two shepherd dogs were with him when he died, and one of these stayed with his body while the other attended to the sheep, just as though the herder had been with him. The dog drove them out on the range in the morning and back again at night, guarding them from wolves and preventing them from straying off.

Neither dog had anything to eat during the three days' vigil, so far as could be ascertained, but the 2,500 sheep thrived as well apparently as though directed by human agency. The singular fact about the matter is that these faithful creatures would have starved to death rather than harm one of the sheep left in their charge. — Portland Oregonian.

A Faithful Dog

1900

How He Saved The Lives Of Some Prospectors

Deeds of heroism have been enacted in Alaska which history will never chronicle. Truth prints a story of one party of prospectors who owe their lives to a dog.

Upon the desolate waste of that inhospitably glazier, the Valdes, which has proved a sepulchre to so many bright hopes and earnest aspirations, last winter a party of prospectors were camped. Day after day they had worked their way forward, death disputing every foot with them, until it was decided that the main party should remain in camp and two of their number accompanied only by a dog should endeavor to find a trail which would lead away from the glazier.

For days the two men wandered, until nature succumbed and they lay down, weary and exhausted. Their faithful companion clung to them and the warmth of his body was grateful as they crouched low with the bitter ice ladened wind howling about them.

Their scanty stock of provisions was well nigh exhausted, when one of them suggested sending the dog back to camp. This was a forlorn hope, but their only one. Quickly writing a few words on a leaf torn from a book they made it fast around the dog's neck and encouraged him to start back on the trail.

The sagacious animal did not appear to understand but after repeated efforts they persuaded him to start and he was soon swallowed up in the snow, the mist and the storm.

Two days and nights passed, during which the men suffered untold agonies. On the evening of the third day when all hope had gone and they were becoming resigned to their fate out of the blinding and drifting snow bounded the dog, and close behind him came ready hands to minister to their wants.

The remainder of the story is simple. The whole party returned having abandoned their useless quest and on the last Topeka going south were two grateful men and a very ordinary looking dog. "That dog will never want as long as we two live," said a grizzled and sunburnt man.

—The Hartford Republican, Hartford, KY, Jan. 19, 1900, p. 1.

Drifted Together; Hogs Freeze Fast

1909

Sad Plight of Porkers Near Lake City During Blizzard.

LAKE CITY, Feb. 20. — Fred Fry, who lives north of town, relates a mighty interesting incident which occurred on his farm the night of the big storm.

The following day, Mr. Fry heard some hogs squealing and he went out to investigate. The sounds seemed to come from a snow drift and he went over to the drift and, lo and behold a couple of hogs emerged from that drift. The astonishing part was the fact that they had lived through the night in that drift, but that was not the most astonishing part. When those hogs came from that drift they were frozen together, frozen so hard that when they were separated the hide came off and the hogs bled profusely.

It certainly was a peculiar experience.

—Des Moines News, Des Moines, IA, Feb. 21, 1909, p. 3.

Captured Baby Lynx

1905

W. W. Bridges of Athens, while hunting recently, came upon a peculiar track of some animal, which he followed. He captured the animal, which is pronounced by people who profess to know to be a baby lynx, a very fine specimen, weighing 22½ pounds and measuring four feet from tip to tip.


Boat Made From Paper

In Vienna a paper boat, sixteen feet long, has been built out of the back numbers of a leading daily paper of that city. Hull, spars and sails have all been made from the pulped brains of the literary staff. Four hundred thousand copies of this journal will make a yacht — sails and all.


Many Sheep From Colorado

One hundred thousand sheep will be prepared for the market this winter at the beet-sugar factories in the vicinity of Eaton, Greeley, Windsor, Longmount, Fort Collins and Loveland, Col. The beet pulp makes the best of feed for lambs.


Cost of Removing Snow

Removing snow in New York City is a large item in the city's annual expense bill. It costs about $35,000 for every inch of recorded snowfall. Last year it cost the city $755,000 to remove the snow from the streets. The average fall in New York is thirty inches, but though the snow season hardly has begun, twenty-three inches have fallen this winter, and the cost this season promises to reach considerably over $1,000,000.

Runaway Returns Home

1915

This is going to be a Merry Christmas at the Mohr home, 10 St. Mark's place, New York City. For Sophia has returned. Her voluntary return cleared up her mysterious disappearance. She had been working as a "stripper" in a cigar factory at Hartford, Conn., while the police of the country were searching for her.


Miss Snow Elopes With Mr. Blizzard

PHILADELPHIA, Pa., Dec. 16. — It has just been learned that Miss Bessie Snow, 25 West High street, Germantown, eloped with George Blizzard. The bride is 19 years old, the bridegroom 27.


Troubles

Making light of your troubles is the best way to dispel darkness.

Puzzle Jugs

1896

Water or puzzle jugs were made in England as early as the seventeenth century, and at the beginning of the present century were still being produced. They are now seen only in museums or private collections.

These tantalizing vessels, though not always equally complex, have generally some features in common. In spite of their many spouts, a perforated neck usually prevented the abstraction of their contents in the ordinary way. But a secret passage for the liquor up the hollow handle and through one spout or nozzle afforded the means of sucking the contents. Of course all other spouts and a small concealed hole under the top of the handle had to be closed by the fingers judiciously employed during the imbibing process.

The inscriptions found on some of these puzzle jugs usually relate to the difficulty of getting at their contents; the following is an example, written in "scratch blue," on a salt-glazed jug: "From Mother Earth I claim my birth, I'm made a joke for man; But now I'm here, filled with good cheer, Come, taste me if you can."


Snow Experiment

Some experiments at Leavenworth, Kan., show that packed snow offers an excellent resistance to bullets.

Melting of Winter Snows in Alaska

1899

Daily Freshets

To most people who live in the temperate zones, the annual freshets occasioned by the melting of the winter snows and by the unusually heavy rains of spring are a matter of familiar observation. Under a higher latitude and in the neighborhood of glaciers, other phenomena are to be studied.

An English traveller in Alaska has the following to report about the rivers of that country:

The Takheena, like most streams of glacial origin, was subject to a daily rise and fall. The distance of its sources caused the water to increase in volume and in swiftness from noon to midnight, after which it continued to decrease from midnight to noon.

The daily rise measured from six to ten inches, according to the heat of the weather; the daily fall measured from five to eight inches during the time the fine weather lasted.

After a few days of cloudy, rainy weather, I found the river falling from day to day about as fast as it had risen during the fine weather.

It is worthy of remark that during fine weather I invariably found the wind during the daytime in the Chilcat valley blowing up from the sea. It began in the forenoon with a gentle breeze, which gradually increased to a smart gale, that died quite away by sunset. During the night there was either no wind, or else it blew in the contrary direction. This regular movement of the atmosphere no doubt has much to do with producing the regular daily rise and fall of the river. — Youth's Companion.

Five Hens Lay Eggs in Deep Snow Nests

Feb. 1920

Fowls Dig Their Own Snug Roosts on Roof of Barn

HILERTON, New York — It being the warmest day of the winter, Chester Wasselton, a poultryman of this village, opened the door of his hen house to allow his hens to come out and enjoy the sunshine. Late in the afternoon Wasselton went to the hen house and seeing the hens were on the roosts closed the door.

Next morning the poultryman heard a loud cackling which came from the roof of the hen house. He secured a ladder, placed it against the structure and climbed to the roof, which was covered with three feet of snow. Wasselton says that when he reached nearly to the peak of the roof he was surprised to find five of his white leghorns buried in the snow. Furthermore, he says that when he removed the hens he was dumbfounded to find that each hen had laid an egg.

Wasselton placed the eggs in his coat pocket and threw the hens from the roof. He expresses the opinion that the hens flew to the roof the night before, dug their way down to the shingles through the snow and, as it was warm, made no effort to leave.


Cake 14 Years Old, Served At Wedding

First in Family to Marry Won the Fruity Confection

ST. LOUIS, Missouri — A wedding cake made fourteen years ago was served as a breakfast following the wedding her of Miss Geraldine Isabelle Buchanan, of California, Mo., to Lieut. Austin Smith Parker of Greenville, S.C.

The cake was made from a recipe for Chinese fruit cake and preserved in brandy to be served at the first wedding in the family of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas J. Buchanan, parents of the bride.

Chicken Thief Pursued, Riddled

Pennsylvania, 1908

Enraged Farmer, After Chase, Puts Twelve Holes Through Him

Pottsville, Pa., Feb. 7. — Exhausted after a long chase, Isaac Bevan of Shenandoah, Pa., was riddled with bullets from two revolvers which his pursuer, Anthony Sinkiewicz, emptied into his body as he lay helpless in a snow drift. Twelve shots took effect, one passing through the heart, causing instant death.

Sinkiewicz had for some time been annoyed by chicken thieves and fixed up a burglar alarm. He was awakened by this alarm and he and a boarder at his home armed themselves and gave chase to the intruder by means of tracks in the newly, fallen snow. The chase continued for more than a mile, when Bevan dropped from exhaustion. Seven chickens were found in a bag which he carried. He was unarmed. Sinkiewicz gave himself up to the authorities and has been charged with murder.


Leap Year Girl's Quick Work

Philadelphia, Feb. 7. — Miss Louisa M. Hahn has led to the altar of the Mount Airy Methodist Episcopal church J. Horace Laucks of Germantown. Miss Hahn on New Year's day, ten hours after she became acquainted with Laucks, said to him: "I like you very much. Let us get married. I suggest you take time to think it over, say until tomorrow." Laucks made up his mind within four hours.

Loss of Wife's Love Worse Than Jail

Feb. 1920

Released Spy Hopeless When He Learns She Will Rewed

SAN FRANCISCO — The highest hope of Wilhelm von Brincken, cherished by the former attache of the old German consulate in San Francisco during his twenty months' imprisonment for violation of American neutrality, was shattered upon his liberation a few days ago when he learned that his divorced wife was engaged to marry another.

"She is all I have been living for," said Von Brincken, referring to the beautiful Milo Ambercrombie, mother of his two children, who divorced him on patriotic grounds while he was serving his terms at McNeil's Island. "I had expected to effect a reconciliation, to take out citizenship papers and to father my children in the land I love above all others. Now — with these other plans — I am too shocked to think."

The former Mrs. Von Brincken, who has resumed her maiden name, has announced her forthcoming marriage to Lieut. Lyman K. Swenson of the United States Navy.


Demands $500 for Snow Bath

WOOD CENTER, N. Y. — Byron Smith went to the depot here to take the train to Yonkers. He purchased his ticket and a few minutes later heard the approaching train. As he left the depot a quantity of snow fell from the roof of the building completely burying him. Smith crawled out and went home. He demands $500 for his snow bath and says the company must pay.

Courtesy All Too Scarce

Ohio, 1914

Cleveland Man Set Fine Example of the Duty of a Gentleman to the Fair Sex

The youthful Walter Raleigh spreading his velvet cloak on muddy walk for his queen to pass, is a pleasant historical picture. But the heart of a courteous gentleman may beat under the blouse of a workingman as well as under the cloak of a courtier.

Last November the city of Cleveland was cut off from the outer world by the worst storm of wind and sleet and snow in its history. Traction lines and railways were tied up for several days. Four days after the storm, a woman reached Cleveland to visit her sister. She knew that the cars were not yet running on the line she wished to take, and so she took a car on another line that would take her to the city limits, where she hoped to connect with a car that would take her where she wanted to go.

Forty minutes later she stepped from the car at the edge of the city. Between her and the curbstone a wide stream of water six or eight inches deep was running. As she looked helplessly about, a workingman whose hair was touched with gray left a group on the sidewalk, waded out to her and said: "Madam, you don't know me, and I don't know you, but if you'll let me, I'll be glad to help you to the sidewalk." She thanked him, and he took her suitcase to the curb, splashed back, and taking her up in his arms, waded with her to the walk. There he put her down dry-shod, carried her suitcase into a near-by store, and told her he would tell her when her car came; for he was also waiting for it.

Two hours later he waded with the suit case to the long-delayed car, returned, and splashed once more through the stream of melting snow as he carried her to the step. Then he said "I hope you'll be all right," and took a place at the opposite end of the car. — Youth's Companion.


Daily Thought

As the flowers carry dewdrops trembling on the edge of the petals, and ready to fall at the first waft of wind or brush of wing of bird, so the heart should carry its beaded words of thanksgiving, and at the first breath of heavenly favor let down the shower perfumed with the heart's gratitude. — Beecher.

Mail Carrier Puts Snowshoes on Horse

Feb. 1920

Man and Beast Finish 45-Mile Trip in Three Days

SEATTLE, Wash. -- "Old the Bear" (A. R. Westerberg), mail carrier between Revelstoke, B.C., and Downie Creek, forty-five miles up the Big Bend, succeeded in accomplishing a feat that established a new record in this district.

The great depth of snow up the Big Bend, together with the heavy crust caused by raining and freezing, made it practically impossible for a horse to travel the roads, but "Ole" conceived the idea of making snow shoes for his horse, which he did out of birch, constructing them circular in shape and more than a foot across.

For protection he covered the horse's legs with blankets.



Rope, Poison Fail -- Shoots Self

ELGIN, Ill. -- After two attempts at suicide -- one by taking poison and one by hanging -- had failed, Swain Wilkinson, an Elburn farmer, shot himself through the heart.

"Rides" Avalanche, Killed

1914

Rancher Thought It Great Sport to Slide Down Mountain Side on Mass of Snow

Jackson, Wyo., Feb. 7. — That "Windy" Hickman, a rancher, of the Jackson's Hole district, was killed while trying to "ride an avalanche," was the word brought here by James Fitzmeier. Fitzmeier himself was buried, but escaped alive after digging himself out of the snow.

The two men were on the Conant trail when the snow slide struck, carrying them down a mountain side. Hickman was delighted and shouted a suggestion that they "ride her; it's great sport!"

"Hickman was shouting and laughing like a schoolboy as the avalanche swept him down," said Fitzmeier. "He seemed to regard the experience as a lark. When I went under he was about 15 feet ahead of me, balancing himself on one leg."

Novel Snow-Plows — Kurds Use Horses, Charge the Drifts

1878

Novel Snow-Plows

In his recent travels in Asia Minor Captain Burnaby on one occasion, between Erzeroum and Van, found his road blocked by a snow-drift. It was cleared in the following original fashion.

Ordering one of the Persians to make his camels retire about two hundred yards, the Kurd by which the captain was accompanied called twelve of the best mounted of the villagers to his side; then, striking his horse and shouting wildly, he galloped along the track and charged the drift.

"In a second or two," says our traveler, "nothing could be seen but the head on the rider; his steed was entirely hidden from our view. After a few struggles the man backed the animal out of the snow, having made a hole in it some twenty feet long by four wide. The next horseman rode at the place like his leader. Each Kurd followed in succession. They finally forced a passage. It was a wild sight to witness — these Kurds in their quaint head-dresses, and on strong, fine-looking steeds of Turkoman breed, many of them quite sixteen hands high, charging the snowdrift, yelling and invoking Allah; Persians, phlegmatic and still, seemingly not caring a straw about the matter; the lieutenant encouraging the Kurds by cries and gesticulations, but having too great regard for his own safety to gallop at the ridges, and the leading horseman now far in front, his horse apparently swimming through the snow as he slowly burst the barrier."