Chapter VII: Front Matter (7)

I have run hastily over this account of the condition of Maine in the old rum time to show that our people, according to the general opinion on this subject, were most unlikely to adopt a policy of prohibition to the liquor traffic, which was spread everywhere all over the state, and was intimately interwoven into all the habits and customs of the time. All over the state there was a general appearance of neglect and dilapidation in houses, barns, school houses, farms, churches. By their habits of drinking a great many of our people were disinclined to work, and many of them were unfitted for it. It used to be said that three-fourths of the farms were mortgaged to the town, village and country traders, all of whom kept in stock liquors of all sorts as the most important and most profitable part of their supplies.

A few men in Maine resolved to change all that by changing the law by which the liquor traffic was licensed, and by substituting for it the policy of prohibition. This was supposed to be a great undertaking, as in fact it was. An indispensable preparatory step was to change public opinion, on which all law is supposed to be founded. To do this meetings were held all over the state—not only in the larger towns, but in villages and in all the rural districts. There was hardly a little country church or town house or roadside school house where we did not lay out before the people the fact that the liquor traffic was inconsistent with the general good; that it was in deadly hostility to every interest of nation, state and people. In our missionary work about the state, traveling in our own carriages in summer, and in our own sleighs in winter, we took with us large supplies of tracts relating to the liquor traffic and its results. These were prepared for the purpose, and were distributed freely at all our meetings, and we threw them out to the people as we passed their houses, and as we met them on our way; and to the children as we passed the country school houses. In this way, by persistent work, we changed the public opinion upon the matter and fired the hearts of the people with a burning indignation against the liquor traffic, by which they were made poor and kept poor.

This work was continued for several years without intermission; we had a definite object in view, and that was to overthrow the liquor traffic, to outlaw it, to put it under the ban, and to drive it out as a pestilent thing, the whole influence of which was to spread poverty, pauperism, suffering, wretchedness and crime broadcast among the people, at the same time that no possible good came from it. In due time we made earnest application to the legislature for a law of prohibition, but our prayers were not heeded. We were regarded as having no rights which politicians were bound to respect, and we were treated with small courtesy. We soon took in the situation, and addressed ourselves at once to the only instrumentality through which we could possibly succeed—that is, the ballot box. We sent in great numbers of petitions to the legislature, but we were beaten by more than two to one. At the next election we swept the State House clear of almost every man who had voted against us; we did this irrespective of all party ties and affiliations.

To the legislature thus elected we sent no petitions; we went there in person, with a bill all prepared, and offered it as one that would be acceptable to temperance men. It was on Friday, the 30th of May, 1851, that we did this. We had a public hearing in the Representative Hall on the afternoon of that day. Saturday, the 31st of May, was to be the last day of the session. The committee voted unanimously to accept the bill as it was, with no change whatever. It was printed on Friday night and laid upon the desks of the members the next morning. Immediately after the morning hour it was taken up for consideration.

Now this was the situation on that Saturday morning. The liquor traffic was a lawful trade in Maine, as it was throughout the civilized world. There were liquor shops, wholesale and retail, all over the state, with large stocks of liquor for sale, as there are now in all our states, where the traffic is yet prosecuted by authority of law, and under its protection. The bill lying upon the members’ desks proposed to change all that; it forbade the trade absolutely; it declared that there was no property in intoxicating liquors kept for unlawful sale; that such liquors so kept, or supposed to be so kept, should be seized on complaint and warrant, or on sight, without warrant, and should be confiscated and destroyed, unless the claimant could show to the satisfaction of the court that they were not intended for sale. They might be seized wherever seen; on railway cars, on steamboats, or in transitu by any other mode of transportation; they might be hunted like wild and dangerous beasts, and like them, if resistance was offered, they might be destroyed upon the spot. If it be decided that the liquors are kept for unlawful sale, the party is sentenced, in addition to the loss of the liquor, to a fine of one hundred dollars and costs, and on the second conviction, to the same fine and to imprisonment at hard labor for six months. And it was expressly provided that no action should be had or maintained in any court in the state for the recovery of intoxicating liquors nor for the value thereof. The liquor traffic was put by that bill outside the law, beyond its protection, and was denounced as an enemy to the state and people—utterly inconsistent with the public welfare.

On that Saturday this extraordinary measure, such as had never been heard of in the world before, with no change whatever, was passed through all its stages to be enacted, and on Monday, at nine o’clock in the morning, it was approved by the Governor, and from that moment it was the law, because the act provided that it should take effect when signed by the executive. All the stocks of liquors in the state were then liable to be seized and destroyed, but the local authorities allowed the parties having them in possession a reasonable time in which to “send them away to other states and countries where they could be lawfully sold;” and this was done. There was a hasty departure of these liquors from all parts of the state. It was not an appeal to the legislature by petitions that accomplished this wonderful overturn in the status of the liquor traffic in Maine, it was simply and only because the people put their will in relation to it into the ballot box. There is no other way in which it can be done in any other states, or in the nation. This movement against the liquor traffic is now, as it was then, a far more important political question than any other, more important than all others combined, to every interest of the nation, state, and people. What has been the result of this legislation?

“In some places liquor is sold secretly in violation of law, as many other offences are committed against the statutes, but in large districts of the state, the liquor traffic is nearly or quite unknown, where formerly it was carried on like any other trade.

“SIDNEY PERHAM,
“Governor of Maine.”

“I can and do, from my own personal observation, unhesitatingly affirm that the consumption of intoxicating liquors in Maine is not to-day one-fourth so great as it was twenty years ago; in the country portions of the state the sale and use have almost entirely ceased. In my opinion our remarkable temperance reform of to-day is the legitimate child of the law.

“WM. P. FRYE,
“M. C. of Maine, and ex-Att’y Gen’l of the State.”

“I have the honor unhesitatingly to concur in the opinions expressed in the foregoing by my colleague, Hon. Wm. Frye.

“LOT M. MORRILL,
“U. S. Senate.”

“I concur in the foregoing statements; and on the point of the relative amount of liquors sold at present in Maine and in those states where a system of license prevails, I am very sure from personal knowledge and observation that the sales are immeasurably less in Maine.

“J. G. BLAINE,
“Speaker U. S. House of Representatives.”

“I concur in the statements made by Mr. Frye. Of the great good produced by the Prohibitory Liquor Law of Maine, no man can doubt who has seen its result. It has been of immense value.

“H. HAMLIN,
“U. S. Senate.”

“We are satisfied that there is much less intemperance in Maine than formerly, and that the result is largely produced by what is termed prohibitory legislation.

“JOHN A. PETERS, M. C of Maine.
“EUGENE HALE, M. C. of Maine.”

“I fully concur in the statement of my colleague, Mr. Frye, in regard to the effect of the enforcement of the liquor law in the state of Maine.

“JOHN LYNCH, M. C. of Maine.”

These certificates are from both Senators and all the Representatives of Maine in Congress.

These statements are indorsed by many mayors and ex-mayors of cities, and many other officials in every part of the state; by General Chamberlaine, ex-Governor and President of Bowdoin College, and by many clergymen in every county in the state.

The convention of Good Templars resolved, “That by the operation of the Maine law in this state, the traffic in intoxicating liquors has been greatly diminished, and that the happy effects of this change are everywhere apparent, and that the quantity of liquors now sold in this state can not be one-tenth as much as it was formerly.”

The State Conventions of the Republican party of Maine have always adopted resolves relating to this matter. I have some of them before me now.

Republican State Convention of 1878: “Temperance among the people may be greatly promoted by wise prohibitory legislation, as well as by all those moral agencies which have secured us beneficent results; and it is a source of congratulation that the principle of prohibition, which has always been upheld by Republicans, is now concurred in by so large a majority of the people that it is no longer a party question, the Democrats having for several years declined to contest and dispute it.” 1879: “We recognize temperance as a cause which has conferred the greatest benefits on the state, and we sustain the principle of prohibition which in its operation has so largely suppressed liquor selling, and added incalculably to the sum of virtue and prosperity among the people.” 1880: “Experience has demonstrated the wisdom of the policy of prohibition as an auxiliary of temperance, and as contributing to the material wealth, happiness and prosperity of the state; and we refer with confidence and pride to an undeviating support of the same as one of the cardinal principles of the Republican party of Maine.”

There was no election in 1881, and no convention, but the resolve of 1882 is:

“We refer with confidence and pride to the general result of
the Republican party in support of the policy of prohibiting
the traffic in intoxicating liquors, the wisdom and efficiency
of which legislation in promoting the moral and material
interests of Maine have been demonstrated through the practical
annihilation of that traffic in a large portion of the state;
and we favor such legislation and such enforcement of law as
will secure to every portion of our territory freedom from that
traffic. We further recommend the submission to the people of a
prohibitory Constitutional amendment.”

Such is the latest authoritative and comprehensive testimony to the actual results of prohibition in Maine. Similar testimonies could easily be obtained from the most influential sources in every part of the state. Every brewery and distillery has been suppressed. Molasses, which is yet imported into the state in large quantities, is no longer converted into rum, but is used exclusively for domestic purposes, while a large part of it is converted into sugar by improved processes. The share of Maine of the national drink bill would be about $13,000,000, but I am far within the truth in saying that one million will cover the cost of all liquors smuggled into the state in violation of law. From the poorest state in the Union, Maine has become one of the most prosperous, and it has gained immeasurably in many other ways from the policy of prohibition.

THE INDUSTRIAL SCHOOLS OF BOSTON.

By E. E. HALE.

I.

It was the morning after the funeral. Aunt Fanny had tried to make the breakfast seem cheerful to the children, or at least tolerable. She had herself gone into the kitchen to send up some trifle a little out of the way for the family meal. She talked to the children of the West, of the ways in which her life in Wisconsin differed from their lives in Boston. And Aunt Fanny succeeded so far that George passed his plate for oatmeal a second time, and little Sibyl did not ask leave to go before her aunt had poured out her second cup of coffee.

Aunt Fanny made the breakfast as long as she could. Then she folded her napkin slowly, and led the children into the other room for morning prayer. They read the last chapter of Proverbs, and then all knelt down and said the Lord’s Prayer. Then Aunt Fanny took Nahum’s hand and took little Sibyl on her lap, and she said to all four of the children, “It is very hard for us all, dear children, but I must tell you all about what the plans are. I have a letter from Uncle Cephas, and you know I had a long talk with Mr. Alfred after he came here yesterday. We will not break up here yet.”

“Oh, I am so glad of that,” said poor, sturdy Belle, who generally said so little.

“No, we will not break up here yet. In the spring we will all go to Wisconsin, and you shall learn to like my home at Harris as much as you like Roxbury.” So spoke Aunt Fanny, as cheerfully as she could. And not daring to wait a reply, she hurried on: “See here, Uncle George writes that I may stay till late in March, or early in April, if I think best, but that then we must all be ready to go on.”

You must know that the four children were orphans. Their father had died in April, and now, in the middle of December, their mother had died. Aunt Fanny had been with them for the last month. But she knew, and they knew, that their pleasant home was to be broken up forever.

“And now,” she said, “we must all see what we have to do this winter, to be ready for Wisconsin. Belle and Sibyl, you may come up stairs with me, and we will look through your clothes and the boys’. I must not be lazy this winter, and I will have it for my morning work to put everything in order.”

And when they came up stairs, and this business like, energetic Belle took their frocks and underclothes from the drawers, Aunt Fanny was indeed surprised. The girl was grave beyond her years; so long had her poor mother been ill, and so much of the care of the family had fallen on her. “I should think you were an old housekeeper,” said Aunt Fanny, in admiration, as Belle explained how she had mended this, and, on the whole, determined to retain that. And when Belle took her into the little room which she called the “sewing room,” and showed her drawers, and even shirts for the boys, which she had under way, Aunt Fanny squarely told her that she was quite her own equal in such management.

“How did ever come to be such a thorough seamstress?” said she. “Dear Mary has been sick so long that I had somehow imagined that such things as these must slip by.”

“Oh! of course mamma told us everything. But you know we learn this at school.”

“I do not know any such thing,” confessed Aunt Fanny, promptly.

“Oh, yes,” said Belle, “we learn more or we learn less. But so soon as I found I could help mamma about it I went into the advanced class. There we learned to cut shirts and to make them. I can make a shirt now as well as anybody,” said the girl, laughing. “But of course I do not in practice.”

“Why of course?” persisted Aunt Fanny.

Belle opened her eyes as much as to say, “How little these people in Wisconsin know.” But she did not say so in words, she only said: “Oh, I can buy my collars and wristbands and fronts ready made a great deal cheaper than I can make them, if my time is worth anything. And you must not laugh, Aunt Fanny, but papa said my time is worth a good deal.”

Aunt Fanny did not laugh. She smiled very kindly, and drew Belle to her and kissed her.

“You see, the boys run the machine for me, and Sibyl can do perfectly well any plain sewing we need. We do not think a set of shirts such a very heavy job,” said the little matron, quite unconscious of the amusement she was giving Aunt Fanny.

“Do you mean that every girl in Boston learns to do this?”

“Why yes, if she goes to a public school. She learns it, or she may. I think perhaps she might shirk a good deal. But if the teacher sees you are interested, and you do as well as you can, she helps you on. I know a great many girls who have made dresses for their friends. And I know there are girls who went directly to dress-makers from schools, and earned good wages at once. Some girls, you know, have a gift for cutting and fitting.”

II.

It must be confessed that Aunt Fanny went down stairs a little relieved in mind after this talk with Belle. Here was one, at least, of her little charges, who would be worth her weight in the new home to which they were to be transferred. As the boys came in from school, she had another such lesson. She asked Nahum who would be a good man to whom to send her trunk, which needed some repair. The boy gave her his views, and then asked what she wanted to have done. Aunt Fanny explained that in coming on she had, wisely or not, left the dress tray of her trunk at home. In going back she was sure she would need a tray, and she must have a new one made.

“Is that all?” said Nahum. “I should never send to Sage’s for that.”

“What would you do?” asked Aunt Fanny.

“I should make the tray myself,” said Nahum, quite unconsciously. “When Belle made her famous visit to Swampscott, she found that that trunk she has now would not take in some dandy-jack hat she wanted to carry. And I made a new tray for her.” So he brought his aunt to the “trunk closet,” dragged out Belle’s trunk, and showed her a neat tray, made of white-wood, and very perfectly fitted. “Is that good enough?” asked the boy.

Of course it was good enough, and Aunt Fanny explained that she had not known that Nahum was fond of tools.

“Oh, I might have been as fond of tools as of candy,” said Nahum. “But that would not have come out for much. I learned to handle tools at school.”

“School!” said Aunt Fanny.

“Yes, they wanted to try it at the Dwight, where I was. So they got some benches put into the Ward Room, which is in their building, and is only used by the voters twice a year. They had a first rate teacher, Mr. Batchelder. We had one lesson a week. They would not let us go on unless we kept up in the regular school lessons. So it made the fellows spur up, I tell you, because we all liked the shop, though that was extra.”

“How many lessons have you had?” said Aunt Fanny.

“Oh, I was in the first class, and so I had only one year’s course. It was eighteen lessons. The first day we tried to strike square blows with the hammer. Some of us did not strike very square, I tell you. All the beginning with nails came the first day. The last lesson was ‘planing and squaring, marking, making tenon, making mortise, and fastening mortise and tenon.’ I wrote a letter to another fellow, and I copied it from the school regulations.”

So Nahum went out to his own work shop in the shed, which, as it happened, Aunt Fanny had never seen before, because Nahum kept it under his own key. In the afternoon the tray was made.

“This will make you no end of comfort in Wisconsin, Nahum.”

“But if I am to do carpenter work, really,” said the boy, “I ought to go to the Technology.”

He meant to the Institute of Technology.

“Would you like to go there?”

“Of course I would. Why, if I went there I could make the frame of my own house, and raise it, if the neighbors would help.”

Nor was the boy wrong. And his Aunt Fanny and Uncle Asaph determined he should go, and go he did. He spent three months of that winter there, four days of every week; and worked steadily eight hours a day. Still it was different from what it would have been had he gone to a carpenter as an apprentice. For then he would have had to do whatever the carpenter was doing; and he would have had to take his chance for instruction. But at the Technology he had regular teachers and regular practical lessons. Of course he needed practice, and in the long run, it is only practice which makes a first rate workman. But at the end, he had seen every important part of a good carpenter’s work done, he knew why it was done, and had had a hand in the doing of it.

The Institute of Technology is not a public school as the Dwight School is, where Nahum had picked up his elementary instruction; and for his lessons here they had to pay thirty dollars. But when, the next summer, all the barns on his uncle’s farm in Harris were carried fourteen miles by a tornado, and Nahum found himself directing the framing of a new barn, and doing half the work, he and his aunt thought that those thirty dollars had been well invested.

She took very good care that George should go into the carpenter’s class at the Dwight School while they staid in Boston. He would not have been obliged to go. No scholar took this course, excepting as an extra, but _he_ took it because he wanted to. And, as Nahum had said, they were obliged to keep in good standing in their other studies.

As for little Sibyl, Aunt Fanny judged, after full consultation with her confidential adviser, Belle, that Sibyl had better stay where she was—at the Grammar School. Aunt Fanny went down and made a state call on Miss Throckmorton, the teacher of the school, and also saw Miss Bell, the sewing teacher. She explained to them that while she did not want to break any school rules, she should be well pleased to have as much attention as possible given to Sibyl’s sewing. Miss Bell was really pleased with the attention. She said a good many parents did not seem to care anything about it. But if Sibyl would really give her mind to it, she would see that she was able, before she left them in the spring, to cut and fit a frock for Aunt Fanny or for her sister. And before they went to Wisconsin, it proved that Miss Bell was as good as her word to her little friend, and Sibyl made a very pretty dress for Aunt Fanny, before she left school.

III.

As Aunt Fanny herself made her inquiries into these practical matters, she resolved to try an experiment, which she would have laughed at when she left Wisconsin. She was asked to a lunch party of ladies one day, and was a little amused and a little amazed at first, when she observed how much they said about what they had to eat. Aunt Fanny had been trained to a little of the western ridicule of Boston, and had supposed that a bubble rechauffée or a fried rainbow was the most material article that anybody would discuss. And here these ladies were volubly telling of the merits of oysters in batter and oysters in crumbs—of one and another way to serve celery—in a detail which Aunt Fanny found quite puzzling, and, indeed, quite out of place in the manners to which she had been bred, which had taught her never to criticise what was on the table.

Perhaps her silence showed her surprise. This is certain, that all of a sudden a very pretty and gay Mrs. Fréchette turned round and said, “Here is Mrs. Turnbull, horrified because we talk so much of what we eat. Dear Mrs. Turnbull, it is not what we eat, it is the cooking we care for. You must know we have all been to the Cooking Schools—all who are not managers.”

Aunt Fanny confessed that she had been puzzled a little, and Mrs. Fréchette and Mrs. Champernom, her hostess, explained. In point of fact this very lunch had been cooked, “From egg to apple,” as the Romans would say, by Mrs. Champernom and her two daughters. It may be worth while, therefore, to give the bill of fare:

Raw Oysters on the shell.
Bouillon in cups.
Scalloped Lobster in its own shell.
Quails on Toast, with White Sauce.
Sweet Breads, with Green Peas.
Capons, with Salad.
Ice Creams. Frozen Pudding. Jelly.
Fruit. Coffee.

How good cooks the mother and daughters had been before, they did not explain. But these particular results were due to their training at the Cooking School. They had made the rolls as well.

“I came out of it so well,” said Mrs. Champernom, laughing, “and Mary Flannegan approved the results so well, that when I told her and Ellen Flynn, my waiter girl, that if they liked to go to the cooks’ class, which is a class for special instruction to servant girls, I would pay half, they both consented to go; Mary Flannegan to keep Ellen Flynn company, and to see that she was not taught wrong. The cooks’ class is twelve lessons, and costs three dollars each. I shall pay a dollar and a half for each of them, and as Ellen Flynn is a bright girl, I shall have four good cooks in the house instead of three. For really,” she said, “there is nothing that Hester and Maria can not do. They went down to the beach with their father and the boys, and for a week they cooked everything that was eaten. They made the boys wash the dishes.”

This started Aunt Fanny herself. She found there were four classes she could attend:

1. The Cooks’ Class, for people who had some experience. Twelve lessons would have cost three dollars.

2. The Beginners’ Class of twenty lessons, for which she must pay eight dollars. Here she would be trained to make bread, and to prepare the ordinary dishes for family use at breakfast and dinner and supper.

3. The Second Class, also of twenty lessons, but more advanced. Here she must pay twelve dollars. But here more elegant dishes, what Mrs. Fréchette called “company dishes,” were part of the program.

4. What Mrs. Fréchette called “The Swell Course.” Here every lady paid fifteen dollars for her twenty lessons. _Per contra_, they had what they cooked, and very jolly parties they seemed to make, when they dared ask their friends to their entertainments.

Aunt Fanny was a good housekeeper, but she thought she should like to astonish her friends at Harris with some of the best seaboard elegancies, so she and Belle entered the “second class.” And pleasant and profitable they found it.

IV.

“Sibyl, my dear,” said Aunt Fanny one morning, “I have only just found out that you and Belle make my bed. You need not do it again; I always make it at home, and I should have done it here, but you have been too quick for me.”

“We shall not give you a chance, Aunt Fanny; we shall not let you.”

“But when do you do it, you little witches; you are always at breakfast and at prayers; and when I go up into my room, it is all in order. I supposed Delia did it while we were at breakfast.”

Then, with much joking, it was made clear that every day, while Aunt Fanny saw George and Nahum off, and spoke to the butcher in the kitchen, Sibyl and Belle slipped up stairs, and “did” her room.

“That is a piece of your dear mother’s training,” said Aunt Fanny, as she patted Sibyl’s head.

“As it happens, it is, Aunt Fanny,” said Belle. “But dear mamma said even she got points from Miss Homans, and I am sure Sibyl and I both learned the reasons of some things at the Kindergarten that we did not know before.”

“Reasons for making a bed,” said Aunt Fanny. “Why, you do not tell me that you learn to make beds at school.”

“We did not, because mamma had taught us. But the kitchen Kindergarten was such fun that we liked to go; and if you like to see it, we will take you.” So Aunt Fanny was taken to see that very pretty sight. And she understood at once, how even very little children can be taught housework thoroughly, and taught to like it too. Each child had a doll’s bed to make, and to unmake; and each child, in unison with thirty or forty others, made it and unmade it, singing little songs and going through other such exercise as made the thing amusing, while it was methodical. In the same way each child set a baby house table with the most perfect precision, and swept a floor, and dusted a room. It was play to them, but they learned what they never forgot, as Aunt Fanny had occasion to see every day in the neat order of her dear brother’s orphaned household.

Thus was it that it happened that when Aunt Fanny took home in April her little flock of orphans, she did not bring to their wholly new life four mere cumberers of the ground.

NOTE.—In preparing this little sketch of “Industrial Education in
Boston,” at Dr. Flood’s request, I have selected what seem to me,
on the whole, the most important branches of such education for
illustration. It has not seemed advisable to introduce too much
detail.

1. The instruction in sewing is given in all public schools to
all girls.

2. The instruction in carpenter work has been attempted only in
two public schools. A central school is now to be established,
where classes of volunteers from the different grammar schools
will be received. The full course described, of eight hours a
day, for four days a week, of thirteen weeks, is one of the
Technology courses, and there is a fee for instruction.

3. The Cooking Schools are under the direction of a society for
that purpose. It also maintains Normal Classes for teachers of
cooking. Different churches and charitable societies maintain
free cooking classes, and free carpenter classes.

4. Drawing is taught in all public schools.

5. Schools of design and of carving are maintained by different
societies.

I have confined myself to instruction which is to a certain
extent training in handiwork, and in this I have not included
musical or other artistic performance.

ECHOES FROM A CHAUTAUQUA WINTER.

By REV. H. H. MOORE.

Now that winter is gone and the time for the singing of birds is near, the readers of THE CHAUTAUQUAN, especially those who have spent a summer at this place, will inquire: “How does Chautauqua appear in autumn, with flowers withered, trees naked, and not a robin or thrush to be seen or heard? What a contrast must be the sudden change from a summer world to the wild desolations of a semi-Arctic winter!” and perhaps it seems to them that the place was dead and buried beneath a monument of snow and ice. A feeling of chilliness comes over them, and possibly they half resolve never to visit these groves again. Pity, and possibly a prayer are indulged for the poor unfortunates resident here. Lonesome things, shut up in the woods, how can they stand it? With all respect and due thanks for good intentions, we will excuse the pity, that it may be bestowed where it is more needed, and will be better appreciated. If contentment, good cheer, and the elements of good society can be found anywhere, it is at Chautauqua.

Let man’s environments, duties and responsibilities be what they may, if his mind and heart are in harmony and sympathy with them, he is satisfied, and at rest.

If Chautauqua is stirring and rosy and beautiful in summer to all people, to a nature that can appreciate it it is gorgeous, savage, grand and thoughtful in winter. At the one season we float carelessly along in the midst of scenes of sunshine, loveliness and gaiety; at the other we are more, alone with God, we commune with the stars, and become familiar with the sterner aspects of life. The change from one season to another is simply turning over a leaf in the book of nature, and receiving additional instruction, but of equal value. To our astronomers, the heavens, whenever they could be seen, have presented an aspect of surpassing beauty. Just after sunset in the west, Venus, from beyond the sun has been seen climbing toward the zenith, and is now rapidly approaching the earth, dropping down between it and the sun; we have swept by fiery Mars, which has been nearly over our heads during the winter; further to the east, Jupiter and Saturn have held high court; over the southern heavens has swept Sirius, the brightest star to be seen; to the north and northwest, Vega, the largest of the stars yet measured, has been steadily looking down upon us, and to crown all, Orion, the most magnificent of the constellations has illumined the southern sky.

January was a month of storms, and often did we contrast its desolations with the excitement of a summer Assembly, but such was our satisfaction with the present that we were in no haste for a change. The wild, weird elements of the season interested us; the opportunity afforded for reading, rest and recuperation was what was needed, and we felt that these things could not be too long continued. What, have the beautiful lake ice-locked for months, and used as a public highway? Listen day and night to the moaning and howling of the winds as they swept through the branches of the naked trees, often threatening to tear them up by the roots? Live weeks together without sight of the sun by day, or of a star by night? Yes, for all these things accorded with each other, and with the general aspect of nature. The music was of a _class_, and each note was in harmony with the general movement of the grand anthem. When nature had savagely arrayed itself in frost and snow and cloud and tempest, hiding the earth and filling the heavens, had the sun put in an appearance what a ghastly display would it have made! But in the midst of this desolation the snow-birds appeared, and they were beautiful, for they were the flowers of the season. We realized that the power of harmony could be heard in a tempest as well as in a seraph’s song. It is the extreme of folly to waste a winter watching for the coming of spring. The soul that is free from shams and is a pure part of nature itself, is attuned to the real and the true, and accepts the nature that is as the best, and would resolutely resist a change.

Our snow storm continued about twenty-eight days, and its coming was heralded by the play of lightning and the music of thunder. It never ceased to be a pleasure to watch the falling of the snow; to see the curiously wrought crystals drift out of the sky down among the branches of the trees, filling the air till it seemed mantled in white—a new creation. As an aid to the expression of our feelings we read the poem of Emerson. We quote a few lines:

“Come see the north wind’s masonry,
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof.
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door,
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he
For number or proportion. Mockingly
On coop, or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths.
A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn,
Fills up the farmer’s lane from wall to wall
Maugre the farmer’s sighs; and at the gate
A tapering turret overtops the work,
And when his hours are numbered, and the world
Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
Leaves when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone
Built in an age, the mad wind’s night work
The frolic architecture of the snow.”

Had the storm completed its work in a day, the snow at Chautauqua would have been from six to ten feet deep; but as it extended over the most of a month, changing occasionally into rain, it became so packed that at no time was it more than three feet deep. On some of the buildings, where two roofs met at right-angles it was six or eight feet deep at the angle. But we suffered no inconvenience from the long storm. Our stalwart young men, with heavy teams and strong-built snow-plows, kept the streets open to all parts of the grounds. For a short time, as our greatest trouble, in common with other places, we were a little vexed because of the irregularities of the mail.

But in our safe retreat we could but think of the time when this immense mass of snow would melt away, perhaps attended by falling rain, and of the suffering which the floods would cause in the valleys below. Our gravest apprehensions have since been more than realized. As the snows disappeared the waters of the lake began to rise, and the low lands about Ashville, the Narrows, Griffiths, and other places were flooded, and the area of the lake was sensibly enlarged. The upper dock at Chautauqua stood out at least two rods in the lake, and in the baggage room, by actual measurement, the water stood fourteen inches deep. As the stage of water was unprecedented, we intend to sink a stone at high water mark as a monument of the phenomenal flood of the year 1884.

Up to the 15th of January the game laws permit our fishermen to take with spear pickerel from the lake, through the ice, and the time was well improved, but with poor success. An almost air-tight house, about four feet square, is placed on the ice where the water is from twelve to fifteen feet deep. Brush and snow are packed about the base of the house, and not a ray of light is allowed to enter; then the fisherman, closely shut inside, can see into the clear water, but the fish cannot catch a glimpse of anything in the house. Having thus taken all the advantages to himself, he keeps a decoy chub moving about in the water, and as the pickerel comes in sight to seize its prey, it is saluted with the deadly spear. One year ago tons of pickerel were taken from the lake, and many of them were shipped to distant cities as rare luxuries; but this has been a very unfavorable season, for which all Chautauquans should be thankful. During the legal fishing season, the wind was in the north, and at such times, the fishermen say, the fish keep in deep water, and will not “run.” However, some were taken, and those left we may troll for during the August Assembly.

When the ice in the lake was at its best, the Assembly ice house and many individual houses were filled, and in that respect we are prepared for a long, hot summer, and for supplying the wants of the thousands of people who may visit the place in July and August.

Late last autumn, quite a company of old Chautauquans repaired to Florida to spend the winter; but fifty-nine families remained, and some that left us have returned, so that the place is blest with the elements of good society. The Sabbath services are largely attended; a choir of excellent singers adds much to the interest of the occasion. The average attendance at the Sunday-school was about ninety-six during the winter. It is thoroughly manned and well supplied with lesson helps. The assistant superintendent, A. P. Wilder, deserves much credit for the prosperity of the school. The social and devotional exercises of the church are spiritual, and special attention is given by competent teachers to the religious education of the children. Thus an intelligent and Christian class of people are keeping watch and ward of Chautauqua interests in the absence of the Assembly authorities.

The local C. L. S. C. is under the direction of Mrs. Sarah Stephens, a lady graduate, who brings to her duties, ability, culture, and the ardor of woman’s heart. She follows closely the prescribed course of study, and by the general circulation of written questions, endeavors to reach and interest the entire community. The meetings are held Tuesday evenings, in the chapel, and are largely attended by enthusiastic students. Most of the people here live at their leisure, and much of their time is given to reading and study. I have noticed that subjects discussed at the C. L. S. C. meetings often come up for further examination in shops, stores, on the street, and in the family, and these discussions I judge go far to fix in the mind the subjects discussed. At any rate they are a splendid substitute for the empty or slanderous gossip which is bred in minds that have nothing else to do.

The Good Templars hold their meetings on Friday night and occasionally favor the public with a lecture. Sometime in the winter, under the auspices of the order, an oyster festival was given which brought together a large crowd. The evening was devoted to feasting, music, gossip and addresses. It was really an enjoyable occasion, without any discount. The addresses were so well received as to elicit, in miniature, the “Chautauqua salute.”

To accommodate the little folks who were not able to go outside the gates to the public school, Miss Carrie Leslie has kept a private school, and given entire satisfaction.

Not much has been done during the winter in the way of building and improvements. Late in autumn, A. Norton, Esq., commenced the erection of a fine cottage, at the corner of Vincent and Terrace Avenues, which is now nearing completion. He is building a private cottage for a permanent home, and will expend upon house and lot from $2,500 to $3,000. The Rev. Frank Russell, D. D., of Mansfield, Ohio, has under way a unique cottage, a little back of the Amphitheater, which, when completed, will present a fine appearance. The prospect from his upper verandas will be the widest and best on the grounds, away from the lake.

The Sixby store, embracing dry goods, groceries, drugs, and hardware, under the management of the gentlemanly and accommodating Mr. Herrick, has been open during the winter, and has done a good business.

We have had some sickness and one death since the Assembly. Mr. Crossgrove, a very good man, came here some two years ago, the victim of consumption, and passed away in September last, leaving a widow and other friends to mourn their loss.

The first notes of preparation for the next Assembly have been heard. The appointment of Mr. W. A. Duncan as superintendent of grounds gives entire satisfaction. A modification of policy in some respects is anticipated, which will reduce expenses and work general improvement.

We feel that we are nearing the time when a large group of boys will be on the ground, receiving an education according to the _enlarged_ Chautauqua Idea.

I am here interrupted by the tolling of our bell, reminding us of Longfellow, and one of our Memorial Days.

Chautauquans everywhere should know that the Chautauqua Vesper Service is read every Sunday eve, and that all these Chautauqua interests and peculiarities are cared for from one Assembly to another. Chautauqua is not a six weeks summer affair, but in spirit, and to some extent in form, it lives through all the months of the year, and twelve months are none too many for the full development of all its interests. Again am I interrupted, this time to attend a wedding at the parsonage, and here shall close this survey of Chautauqua in the winter season.