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AMERICAN FORESTRY 



VOL. XXIV 



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NOVEMBER, 1918 



NO. 299 



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THE HOLOCAUST IN MINNESOTA 



A GREATER HINCKLEY 



BY E. G. CHEYNEY 



THE afternoon of October 12, 1918, differed but solid ground beneath their feet. It was dry? Yes, 



little from many another afternoon that Cloquet twenty inches short of rain in twenty months, but the 



had seen in years gone by and her busy life pulsed fire ranger was an able man and surely he could handle 



on with normal beat. Her five great sawmills hummed the little tract of 107 townships that were his to watch 



Photograph by Underwood and Underwood 



NOT WHAT IT SEEMS TO BE AT ALL 



This is not a reconstruction committee visiting a scene of devastation left by the vandal Hun, but it shows all that is left of the Country Club 



of the Golf Association of Duluth after the terrific fire had swept on. 



and coughed as was their wont, the toothpick factory 

 turned out its accustomed thousands of surgeon's pad- 

 dles, the planers whined plaintively, the endless stream 

 of pulpwood went its jerky way down the long conveyor 

 into the paper mill, and 150 million feet of lumber in 

 high, neat piles lay drying in the two miles of valley at 

 the foot of the prosperous town. 



To be sure the wind was rising steadily, but what of 

 that? Let sailors cast their eyes aloft and trim their 

 sails with cautious care, it mattered not to men with 



alone. Wind and smoke had come and gone before 

 and no one been the worse for it. 



So, "On with the dance." Why worry over things 

 that are none of one's business? 



Better had the land lubbers heeded the wind and 

 not rested so contemptously secure in their fancied 

 safety. Far away to the west and north that very wind 

 was preparing some weird rites ordained to recover its 

 lost prestige. Persistently it whispered to many a little 

 bunch of coals left smoldering in some lakeside swamps 



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