Insisted Upon Going To Jail

New York, 1895

Pyles Accused Himself in Order to Spend Two Months in Prison.

John Pyles, a boy vagrant, was arraigned before Justice MacKenna at Whitestone on Friday by Police Captain Carll. The judge was about to impose the usual ten days' sentence when the lad objected.

"I'd like ter hev jes two months; no more en no less," he said.

Pyles then called the judge's attention to the fact that the last time he was in the village he had stolen $5 in money, a watch and chain, and other articles from Mrs. Charles McCall for whom he was working at that time.

He asked the court to send for Mrs. McCall and see if she would not make a charge against him. An officer was despatched to Mrs. McCall's house. She said it was true that Pyles had stolen the articles he named about a year ago, but she refused to make a charge against him.

When the judge heard this he said: "Well, Pyles, I charge you with the theft. Are you guilty or not guilty?"

"Guilty, yer Honor, guilty," shouted the lad.

"Sixty days in the county jail," said the judge. The lad left the court room with a smile of evident joy.

—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, N.Y., Jan. 11, 1895, p. 12.

Hotel Keeper Hahn Hurt

New York, 1895

G. Hahn, a hotel keeper of Winfield, met with an accident which, it is thought, will prove fatal while jumping from a trolley car of the Newtown and Flushing road Monday morning. Hahn was on his way home from New York, where he had been visiting friends. When the car got to Fisk avenue he asked the conductor if they had reached Winfield, and upon being informed that they were passing through the village Hahn rushed to the platform and jumped off. The car was going at a rapid rate, and before the conductor had time to stop it Hahn jumped and landed on his head on the frozen ground.

—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, N.Y., Jan. 18, 1895, unknown page number.

Care of Food In The Home

1916

All cooked food should be cooled as soon as possible before being placed in the ice box. Butter may be kept from taking up the flavors of other food by keeping it in a tightly covered receptacle. Milk requires more access of air, but in a clean ice box in which no strong smelling food is kept milk should remain uninjured in flavor for twelve to twenty-four hours. If vegetables or other foods of pronounced odor are kept in glass jars with covers or in covered earthenware receptacles there will be fewer odors to be communicated. Portions of canned food should never be put into the ice box in the tin can. Such food does not of necessity develop a poisonous product, as has sometimes been claimed, but experiments show that ptomaines are particularly liable to develop in such cases. Casting out this somewhat remote possibility, keeping is enough to condemn the "tinny" taste acquired by such practice.

Foods that are to be eaten raw, such as lettuce and celery, should be carefully cleaned before being placed in the ice box, and may with advantage be wrapped in a clean, damp cloth. If they are to be kept for some days they should, however, be put in without removing the roots, the further precaution being taken to wrap them carefully in clean paper or to put them into grocers' bags,

The following hints regarding the keeping of different kinds of food may be found useful:

Potatoes are kept without difficulty in a cool, dry, and dark place. Sprouts should not be allowed to grow in the spring.

Such roots as carrots, parsnips, and turnips remain plump and fresh if placed in earth or sand filled boxes on the cellar floor.

Sweet potatoes may be kept until January if cleaned, dried, and packed in chaff so that they will not touch each other.

Pumpkins and squash must be thoroughly ripe and mature to keep well. They should he dried from time to time with a cloth and kept, not on the cellar floor, but on a shelf, and well separated from each other.

Cabbages are to be placed in barrels, with the roots uppermost.

Celery should be neither trimmed nor washed, but packed, heads up, in long, deep boxes, which should then be filled with dry earth.

Tomatoes may be kept until January, if gathered just before frost, wiped, and placed on straw- covered racks in the cellar. They should be firm and well-grown specimens, not yet beginning to turn. As they ripen they may be taken out for table use, and any soft or decaying ones must be removed.

Apples, if for use during the autumn, may be stored in barrels without further precaution than to look them over now and then to remove decaying ones; but if they are to be kept till late winter or spring they must be of a variety known to keep well and they must be handpicked and without blemish or bruise. They should be wiped dry and placed with little crowding on shelves in the cellar. As a further precaution they may be wrapped separately in soft paper.

Pears may be kept for a limited time in the same way, or packed in sawdust or chaff, which absorbs the moisture which might otherwise favor molding.

Oranges and lemons are kept in the same way. Wrapping in soft paper is here essential, as the uncovered skins if bruised offer good feeding ground for mold. Oranges may be kept for a long time in good condition if stored where it is very cold but where freezing is not possible.

Lemons and limes are often kept in brine, an old-fashioned household method.

Cranberries, after careful looking over to remove soft ones, are placed in a crock or firkin and covered with water. A plate or round board placed on top and weighted serves to keep the berries under water. The water should be changed once a month.

In winter large pieces of fresh meat may be purchased and hung in the cellar; thin pieces, as mutton chops, are sometimes dipped in mutton suet, which keeps the surface from drying and is easily scraped off before cooking.

Turkeys, chickens and other birds should be carefully drawn as soon as killed and without washing hung in the coolest available place.

Smoked ham, tongue, beef, and fish are best put in linen bags and hung in the cellar.

Salt pork and corned beef should be kept in brine in suitable jars, kegs or casks, and should be weighted so as to remain well covered. A plate or board weighted with a clean stone is an old-fashioned and satisfactory device.

Eggs may be packed for winter use in limewater or in water-glass solution. Many housekeepers have good success in packing them in bran, oats, or in dry salt, but according to experiments summarized in the aforementioned bulletin, the preference is to be given to the 10 per cent solution of water glass. Exclusion of the air with its accompanying micro-organisms and the prevention of drying out are what is sought in all cases. Packed eggs are not equal to fresh eggs in flavor, but when they are well packed are of fairly good quality and perfectly wholesome.

Paper has many uses in the kitchen. The cook needs a piece of paper on which to drain the fried croquette or fritter and she reaches out for the brown paper that came around the meat or for the grocer's bag. She turns to the same source when she wishes paper for lining a cake pan. A little reflection will show how far from cleanly is this practice.

In every kitchen should be found a roll of grocers' paper on its frame. You are sure here of something that has not been handled since it was rolled up by machinery in the factory. Paraffin paper should also be at hand for covering food, for wrapping up sandwiches for school lunches, and for similar purposes. — Maine Farmer.

Postage Stamps In Winter Garb Oct. 1.

1916

HEAVY COATS FOR WASHINGTON AND FRANKLIN.

George and Ben to Doff Summer Attire and Appear Well Clad for Cold Season.

Some people prefer to change to their winter things later, but on October 1 George Washington and Ben Franklin will put on their heavy gum coats. It's their wish and the Government respects it.

Whether the first frosts of winter come in September or November, these two old sticklers for convention put on their heavy gums Oct. 1, and keep them on until the 1st of next May. If they didn't they would never be able to stand the climate, the Government stamp doctors say.

The next time the man who somehow "never seems able to keep any stamps of his own" asks for the loan of a 2-cent pale-pink lithograph of George Washington you will be absolutely within your rights as an American citizen If you reply:

"Sure thing. How will you have George — summer or winter style?"

The same also applies to that other popular favorite, Ben Franklin, whose profile now appears almost as many times as George's on the all-steel art work turned out by the Government presses.

If your query does not stump the perennial stamp-borrower he will be one of the very few American citizens who know that George and Ben are being turned out in two styles — to catch the winter and summer trade — but with no tempting reductions in prices. A 2-cent stamp still costs 2 cents.

Educated people are supposed to know that in spring a young man's fancy lightly turns somewhere or other; that the hardest-shelled crabs turn soft-shelled, and that one's heavy winter flannels are put away in camphor and one's light summer affairs are made ready for one to put on. But ever so many well educated and patriotic persons are totally ignorant of the fact that George and Ben are built on the crab pattern and need a change of wearing apparel in the hot sultry days.

Notables In Summer Attire.

Just at present George and Ben are wearing their summer weight clothing. They made the change along about May 1, when the warm days set in and the crabs began to shed their armor plate and shop windows were decked out in the latest things in hot weather toggery. George and Ben suffer terribly from the heat. Keep them in their winter things beyond the May 1 limit and Whole sheets of Georges and Bens will curl up and crack and stick to the furniture and otherwise make eloquent protest against the cruel disregard of their feelings and the dictates of fashion.

Kind-hearted souls in the Postoffice Department down in Washington were the first to discover this little human failing on the part of George and Ben. Gum experts were called into consultation and the problem was soon solved. What George and Ben needed was a change of glue. And so, you buy — or borrow — your Georges and Bens done summer style these days, and you will continue to do so until Oct. 1.

No Change in Flavor.

The difference between the summer and winter coats worn by George and Ben is one entirely of weight. Suggestions that the flavor of the gum be varied also, so as to appeal more to the taste of those who go in for crushed fruit and chocolate concoctions in the warm days, have never been seriously considered by the attending physicians of the Postoffice Department. Their concern is solely with the general well-being of George and Ben.

As one of the visiting nurses in the cashier's department of the old postoffice explains it, George and Ben have become inordinately fussy in their old age and won't stick to their jobs — or to letters — unless their whims are attended to.

"You see," he said, "the winter gum is so heavy it soaks up all the moisture in summer and stamps curl up and crack and spoil on our hands. The summer gum, being lighter, keeps better during the hot season and sticks just as well. The stamps don't curl up and there is less waste. But this light gum won't do in cold weather. It dries up and the stamps won't stick, no matter how hard you lick them. So we go back to the winterweight gums."

Winter Weights Being Made.

All of which works out very well here in Chicago, where Ben and George are in such great demand that the postoffice officials have to send to Washington every week or ten days for a fresh supply. The Government bureau of engraving and printing is already beginning to manufacture winterweight Bens and Georges, and along toward the end of September, when the local office calls for more, it will get its Bens and Georges with their new heavyweight gum coats.

But out in the rural districts the law of demand and supply works less smoothly and there is intense suffering for Ben and George when the cold snap comes. In these places supplies of Bens and Georges are ordered at longer intervals — enough to last three or four months sometimes — and it frequently happens that Oct. 1 finds the supply still going strong. Thus Ben and George are obliged to enter upon their winter labors wearing their last summer's garments, which is tough on Ben and George, to say nothing of the home folks who have to do the licking.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Sept. 16, 1916, p. 9.

Note: It seems odd, but 'post office' was spelled as one word back in those days.

Crippled By Fall on Ice

1919

Fractured Bone Can Never Heal, Say Physicians.

DENVER, Colorado — Joe H. Ruffner, widely known mining man, secretary of the Sons of Colorado, will be crippled for life as a result of falling off a patch of ice, according to the report of a physician who made an X-ray examination.

Ruffner is 49 years old. The fall resulted in a fracture of the femur bone of the hip, of such character that it can never heal, according to the examining surgeon.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Jan. 3, 1920, p. 12.

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.

Ice Boating Sure To Recover Fame

1920

WINTER SPORT BOOMS AFTER WAR LAPSE.

Many New Racers Being Fitted Out and Contests Are Now in Planning.

DETROIT, Mich., Jan. 1. — It is expected that the ice boating sport will again come into its own this winter after a lapse during the war period.

Already the announcement of a new club out Grosse Pointe way, which will foster the sport has been made and should inject added impetus to the season's prospects.

The fact that many of the skippers were overseas last winter together with the mild weather that provided little ice, served to put a damper on the sport, but the ice sailors are making more elaborate plans than ever to make up for lost time and some spirited racing is expected.

Among the new boats are the Kangaroo, built by Sid Mitchie and said to be a boat that will climb over any obstacle and leap the open water. It was designed by Mitchie himself. 100 Proof owned by Captain Bill Footes, is another and is credited with the fastest trip to Canada and return.

Frank Diegel and his Moonshine, one of the fast ones, will be in better racing form than ever and many spirited races between the Kangaroo and Moonshine have been staged in the past and probably will be repeated this season.

N. P. Neff is busy overhauling his Stonewall and expects to make her faster than ever. Charles Hilgendorf's White Lightning runs true to its name and should make trouble for the others as will a number of dark horses.

Leonard Neff will pilot the Wasp again. This boat has captured the Frontenac and Dodge Bors trophies, and is again being put in sailing trim after a two-year layoff due to the war.

The Lake Shore Ice Yacht Club is the latest addition to the ice boat club ranks and will conduct some big regattas. The Grosse Pointe and L'Anse Yacht Club, pioneers in the game hereabouts, also will make every effort to boom the wind and ice racing.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Jan. 3, 1920, p. 10.

Wild Ducks Freeze in Ice, and Fly Away with the Lake

1919

Hunter Catches One of Struggling Birds by "Hind" Leg and Pulls It Down — Then the Whole Flock Becomes Exhausted and Falls Into His Eager Hands.

NEW YORK, N. Y. — Here is a real duck story. It is from South River, N. J., and the correspondent swears to its truthfulness. He walked five miles to deliver it to a South River editor, but has since been missing. The story follows:

Mayor-elect George L. Burton is never happier than when aiming his shotgun at a flock of ducks. However, according to a friend, he has never been known to bag a single duck until the recent zero weather. Here's how it happened: He was snugly stowed away in his houseboat when a flock of ducks flying over the bay with loud squawking awakened him at 10 a. m.

He rushed on deck and discovered he was surrounded by a flock of ugly ducklings, who threatened to carry away his boat. The leader of the squawky tribe decided, however, to take a swim in the icy water.

No sooner had they alighted than they were frozen fast by the zero weather. George noticed that the ducks were struggling to get away, but could not force themselves from their icy mooring.

This is my chance to get one, murmured Burton. Seizing his trusty gun, he jumped on the meadows and set out to bag a few. His approach frightened them, and with one supreme effort they struggled into the air, carrying with them a heavy sheet of ice, which bound them together. They flew directly over his head and were so low that George caught one of them by the "hind" leg and pulled it loose.

The loss of this duck — a large one — made the ice too heavy for the rest of the flock, which began to settle slowly. As they were circling over the houseboat, the old drake became exhausted. He could not hold up his end and, with a resounding crash, the entire flock fell through the cabin door.

When George returned he found he had captured a whole flock of ducks without the use of his gun. He is now telling his friends that he shot them.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Jan. 3, 1920, p. 8.

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.

Man, 82, is Clever Skater

1919

Wants to Have Fun Now for He'll Be Too Old Soon, He Says.

VANCOUVER, B. C., Canada. — Though skating is primarily an exercise for the young, boys and girls in Vancouver have no monopoly of the sport, for John Williams is an enthusiast on the blades, in spite of his 82 years. As soon as outdoor skating was possible this winter Mr. Williams headed for the natural rink in a local park and put in a strenuous two hours, covering possibly ten or twelve miles in that time.

The old gentleman does not care for indoor skating, and reserves all his energy for those odd years when it gets cold enough to skate outside on the coast. "I must get all the fun I can while it lasts," he says, "for I'm afraid that in a few years I'll be getting too old for this frivolous exercise."

Utilizing the Mayor

Dec. 1919

Several infuriated citizens took it on themselves to jump all over Mayor Chamberlin last week because of a current rumor that "the rest of the towns were getting all the coal they needed," says the Pleasant Hill (Mo.) Times. But the mayor took it good-naturedly and said that's what a mayor is for.


"Nobody Home."

Real prosperity item from the Springfield (Mo.) Leader: Despite the cold weather in Springfield during the past week, the city jail has not yet had any of its "annual guests" who apply for refuge from the elements. The record made by the city's "hotel" so far this year has been remarkable, Chief Rathbone said, as in previous years the holdover usually was in great demand by persons known to the police department as "sleepers."

Very Cooling To Think Of

1910

Artificial Ice is Purer and Can Be Sold Cheaper Than Natural Product

No longer are dealers and users of ice compelled to stand sentinel over nature, with all her vagaries, and wait for ice to be frozen for them. Only a few years ago ice was gathered from anywhere and everywhere, and none could guess what sort of refuse contaminated the waters, rivers, canals, ponds and pools where it was gathered.

No longer does the citizen in the midst of a mild winter take alarm at the prospect of no ice or ice at an almost prohibitive price on account of its scarcity. The manufactured ice is purer than that of nature, without flaw or blowhole, free from admixture of snow and therefore more lasting.

Artificial ice is one of the great discoveries of the last few years and has been reduced to such system that it can be sold at a good profit cheaper than that which was formerly sawed out, loaded in vehicles, hauled to railroad or steamer landing and shipped by rail or by sea to the vast and ugly storage houses, where it was taken from masses of sawdust as it was sold.

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.

Cold Winter Signs

Nov. 1917

There is always a great deal of predicting by old-fashioned prognosticators at this time of year, of what kind of a winter we are going to have.

Some are saying the winter will be a cold one, because the corn husks and the fur on the animals are thicker than usual. It sounds reasonable. But, it really isn't. The corn husks and the fur are thicker because we had a cool summer, not because we are going to have a cold winter.

Then too, these wiseacres say the birds left early and that means a long, cold winter, which is also arguing from a lack of knowledge. Most birds have a certain time for leaving the northern latitudes and leave on schedule time, irrespective of the weather. The swallows go while we are still drinking ice tea and hunting the shady side of the street. But the hardier birds, like the robins, bluebirds, meadowlarks, stay as long as the food supply is good. A well-fed bird is a warm bird. That is why we sometimes have large flocks of robins wintering with its even in zero weather.

On the other hand, the fact that we are over 700 degrees behind on temperature for the year doesn't mean that this will be all straightened out this year. It may take 10. So the only thing to do is to sit tight and take what comes. A warm winter would be pleasant, but a cold one is better for us. — Ohio State Journal.

The Polka Dot

1919

Because in 1835 a Bohemian peasant girl danced a new step in a little village near the Polish border a Hungarian dancing master introduced it in Europe under the name of Polka, which is the feminine of Polak or Pole. By 1844, at the time James K. Polk was running for the presidency, the dance had spread to America and the name "Polk" and the word "Polka" formed a coincidence at once appealing to everyone. The manufacturers, merchants and designers immediately presented Polka hats, Polka shoes, Polka gauze and the "newest design in fabrics for gentlewomen."


Pretty Smart Chickens

A recent morning a Missouri farmer placed three crates of chickens and five bushels of potatoes in his trailer, hitched the trailer to his automobile and started for town. He was almost there when he discovered he had no trailer. He found he had parted company with it a quarter of a mile from home, and when he got back to it the crates were empty and the potatoes frozen.

He presumed, of course, the chickens had been stolen, and was greatly surprised when he went to the henhouse early next day after breakfast to find every one of the chickens there. Not one was missing. They had all returned home, but how they got out of the crates probably will always remain a mystery.

Plan to Play Ice Baseball

1915

Big Leaguers Get a New Idea — Scheme In the Making

Winter baseball played on the ice by major leaguers will be offered to New York fans who can't get enough of the old ball game in the summer, if plans of the promoters pan out.

"Wild Bill" Donovan, Heine Zimmerman, Rube Oldring and Harry McCormick are the promoters, and they reason it this way:

The winter rent on the Polo grounds could be paid from the proceeds of the skating ball game; the games would be played on skates with an indoor baseball; the ice would benefit the sod of the field, and the tariff on pleasure skaters when games are not in progress would leave a nifty profit.

The plans are only in the making, however.


Athletics Sign Boy of Seven?

The claim has often been made that Connie Mack, manager of the Philadelphia American League team, signs his ballplayers when they are infants, and Jack Doyle, Chicago White Sox scout, claims to have the dope in one case.

"I got a tip on Davies, an outfielder," says Doyle, "watched him in several games and decided to sign him.

"I found he had been signed by Connie Mack when he was only 7 years old. He is only 17 now and was with Mack's team last season."

Care of the Cows

1896

Have you ever watched your cows on a bitter cold day sneak slowly up to the water trough where you have broken the ice and stick her tongue in the cold water several times until she got used to it, then take a little sip and a little more until she could stand no more of it. Then she will walk slowly over the frozen ground until she gets in the shelter of an old wagon, and there with her back humped up she will stand for two or three hours shivering until what feed she has eaten has had time to warm that water up to a living temperature?

How long ought it to take a sensible man to find out where all of his feed is going, no matter whether it is a milk cow or a dry one. Nearly every pound she eats is needed to warm that water, and little is left to repair the body, much less to make milk or fat of. The simplest kind of a heating apparatus will cost not over ten cents a day to heat the water for a small herd twice a day. It will pay for itself twice over during the winter in food it will save and the milk it will allow the cows to make, and it will do the same in adding flesh to the other cattle, especially the young ones.

Then go a step further and buy some boards to build a shed that the poor things may have a dry place to stand and lie down under with a wind break against the cold piercing storms. These are not only acts of humanity, but they appeal directly to the pocketbook. They make the stacks of hay, the corn fodder and the meal bin go nearly twice as far, to say nothing of increasing the profits of the milch cows.

If a liberal allowance of straw, leaves or other trash is scattered under the shed the amount of manure saved will far more than repay the cost and trouble of collecting it, while it greatly adds to the comfort of the animals. If you are not too tired by this time, then get you a sharp butcher's saw and take the horns off dent from the boss cow and steers, and then the younger ones. This is the best time of year to do it, when there are no flies to bother. — Home and Farm.

November In Georgia (poetry)

1899

By Francis Barine

Is this November—late November, too?
The woods have scarce a bough stripped wholly bare;
And soft and clear and kindly is the air,
And Summer's skies are not more deeply blue.
No richer roses in her garden grew,
Nor are these her "Good-by," — these roses rare:
The year has many roses yet to wear
Ere Winter comes, even here to claim his due.
Here Summer lingers — all the garden-ways
Are fragrant still. The bamboo's tangled green
Is mirrored where the warm brown water shines.
The distant hills are unobscured by haze —
Across a league of rolling land between
How clear the sky-line rampart of tall pines!

Yet there is something in the air to-day —
What is it? — sighing Summer's day is done,
Though Psyche float and circle in the sun,
And wayside-weed and garden-bed be gay.
Here waves the cotton-sedge, grown ghostly-gray—
There stretch the withered corn-fields. One by one
Queen Summer's brilliant courtiers vanish — none,
Except the roses, to the end will stay.
It is as if, arrested, Summer stood —
A fugitive queen, yet royal — with raised hand
Commanding silence, wherefore not a breath
Breaks the deep stillness of the waiting wood,
While with sad eyes she looks across the land
For his approach whose coming is her death.

— Youth's Companion.

Lumbermen May Return To Use of Oxen

1908

Workers in Northern Wisconsin Believe Them More Serviceable

Milwaukee. — The determination of the lumbermen to return to the employment of oxen in the woods of northern Wisconsin and Minnesota will recall the days of the pioneer of 40 and 50 years ago, when horses in the woods were a curiosity or luxury.

Horses succeeded oxen for the reason that they make quicker time in hauling over long roads, and for the reason that feed became more plentiful as the country became settled by homesteaders. It was when feed was impossible to obtain that cattle were employed, for they were generally able to forage with the deer through summer and winter months. Those were the days of the dense pine forests when feed was plentiful and the climatic changes were not so sudden as a present, but the present day has its advantages, though the winters are more severe.

Feed for the oxen may be had at any railroad station or of almost any farmer or homesteader. Oxen require less feed than horses, and here is the first stroke of economy, though not a large one. They are sure of foot and will haul as large a load as horses. In skidding logs they are said to be much preferable to horses, and, unlike horses, they may be slaughtered and served to the lumberjacks when they have served their purpose.

In some of the northern counties oxen are being employed by the new settlers for the cultivation of the farm. They move along slowly it is true, but they accomplish the work of clearing the land and bringing it to a state of cultivation. The only drawback to this new movement is the lack of trainers and drivers. The oxen men of the last generation have or are passing away, and it will be difficult to get men who will condescend to desert the horse for the ox.

Lessons of Winter

1874

There is no season of the year so well calculated to bind us together in the ties of a common brotherhood as is winter. Nature claims and receives our sympathy in all her varied aspects.

In the spring we rejoice in her renewed activity, and greet with delight her balmy air and budding beauty. As the summer approaches, we disperse to behold her in new phases and to enjoy her cool breezes from mountain and sea. In the fall we witness with tender sadness the departure of the gorgeous foliage and rich bloom, and still linger lovingly among her shadows. But when nature puts on her winter's dress, she bears a different message to us all.

With the bleak wind and stinging frost she sends us from her presence for a time, and bids us draw closer to one another for warmth and comfort. She brings more forcibly to the mind the delights of home and friends, and at the same time speaks impressively of the pain and sorrow, poverty and woe that call for sympathy and help.

Each season has its appropriate lesson, and that of winter is surely intended to strengthen within us the spirit of humanity that shall blossom into brotherly love and kindness. As the dusk of twilight calls the children away from outdoor play to assemble in the home, and brighten the family with their cheerful presence, so winter calls the human family from their summer rambles into a more intimate communion and sympathy with each other.

It is a pleasant task to learn one part of winter's teachings, that which relates to social and domestic union. The festivities of Thanksgiving and Christmas, the long winter evenings, the cheerful fireside, the lectures, concerts and social gatherings, the hilarity of the young, and the cheerful sympathy of the old all draw families and friends together in closer bonds.

All honor to the merry pastimes, the genial society, the friendly harmony which winter inaugurates. Let parents and children devote themselves more assiduously to each other, let brothers and sisters strengthen fraternal love by kindly offices and close companionship, let acquaintances blossom into friends, and friendly intercourse ripen affection, and, above all, let the sympathy thus developed serve to inspire each with higher purposes and nobler aims, and one part of winter's mission, will have been accomplished.