In Winter Quarters 



and the waves, the hemlocks and the 

 pines, voice the never-ending struggle 

 that is life, demanding always the best 

 one has to give. 



It may be that there is more real 

 happiness along the Congo or the 

 Niger than can be found on Riverside 

 Drive, but one thing is certain red 

 beef, white bread and blizzards breed 

 sterner-fibred brains than are common- 

 ly possessed by those who grow bana- 

 nas instead of bullocks, who prefer the 

 milk of a cocoanut to good certified 

 Guernsey, and who wear palm leaves 

 instead of sealskin. 



There is everything, however, in the 

 permanent gripping power of early 

 associations. Winter really ushered in 

 most of the good times enjoyed in the 

 community where these early experi- 

 ences in life began. True, there was 

 live stock still to be tended just as in 

 the summer dawn and dusk; and wood 

 had to be chopped. These "chores," 

 however, in willing hands were quickly 

 [62] 



