In Winter Quarters 



Speedometers are frequently over- 

 worked on the winding roadways that 

 are the pride of the New England of 

 today, and I could not help but 

 wonder what Paul Revere would think 

 of my ride from Harvard Square 

 through Lexington as compared with 

 one he took on horseback on a certain 

 memorable midnight. Cord-and-rub- 

 ber hoofs are the kind that now do all 

 the hurrying down the village streets. 

 Another thing that would surely rouse 

 the ire of my old friend is the way in 

 which he has been dressed up in recent 

 years by Houghton-Mifflin. I have 

 Lowell and Longfellow and Emerson 

 and Holmes in really nice full-calf 

 bindings, and in an evil moment added 

 a set of Thoreau in the same good 

 garb, for which outrage upon his simple 

 taste I humbly beg his pardon. Plain 

 cloth is dressy enough for "The Maine 

 Woods," but muskrat, mink or beaver 

 skin would surely be a lot more be- 

 coming to the dear old tramp. 



