In Winter Quarters 



am potentially; made one maybe by 

 long observation and a somewhat ex- 

 tended acquaintance with men and 

 other mammals, saying nothing of 

 those old gray willows across the way 

 and the tulip bulbs hibernating in the 

 turf beneath. From my library win- 

 dow I can see the bare branches of the 

 trees nodding their approval this De- 

 cember day. They know one thing at 

 least: that "the wind bloweth where 

 it listeth," and if those wretched home- 

 sick Polar bears imprisoned over there 

 behind the rocks and steel of the Lin- 

 coln Park "zoo," swaying from side to 

 side from morn till night in endless 

 misery, were to be asked their opinion 

 of the ruling race, you know as well 

 as I that their comments would never 

 pass the censor. 



I understand fully that such obser- 

 vations may read me out of the party. 

 If so, I shall be sorry. Really I am not 

 yet quite a cynic. I like some folks 

 and certain of their ways. However, 

 [20] 



