In Winter Quarters 



Some day when a heavy snow is 

 falling, put on your cap and coat and 

 boots and mittens, cut all your wires 

 behind you and head deep into the 

 woods. Not those man-planted ones 

 in Lincoln, or any other, park or in 

 ornamented private grounds, but God's 

 own woods, where the briars and brush 

 and undergrowth still form the sur- 

 face-mulch for big old oaks or pines 

 or sycamores. You will gain more there 

 in an hour than you can make any- 

 where else in a month. That is, unless 

 all those attributes that belong to man 

 as the Lord intended him to be, have 

 been bred out of you, as the horns 

 have been bred off certain types of 

 animals. Unfortunately twentieth cen- 

 tury standards are steadily transform- 

 ing us from wholesome natural rational 

 beings into something not found on 

 Creation's list of original specifications. 



Go out into the forest when the 

 great, lazy, six-pointed crystals are 

 softly sifting downward through the 

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