Canadian Forestrij Journal, March, 1918 



1581 



day? We have had community 

 everything else, why not invite all the 

 men to a big bee, and cut enough wood 

 to make the town snug for a time? 

 The woods were at liand. If no one 

 else would do it for us, why not go our 

 selves? We had visions of town 

 chopping days all over the State. 

 Then it would sweep through New 

 England, carry the whole country, 

 and, presto-chango! the National pro- 

 blem of fuel would be solved. 



Tommy appointed a whole harness 

 of committees, enough to hold the best 

 town that ever put its neck under the 

 yoke of community effort. He had an 

 enrollmelit committee to rout out the 

 citizens, a transportation committee, 

 a coffee committee, a publicity com- 

 mittee, an ax-grinding committee, and 

 a general oversight committee. 



Lighting the Fuse 



Fred Babcock put the first notice in 

 the paper something like this: 



Mr. Haynes states that he is con- 

 fident he can cut as much wood in a 

 given time as Captain Huntington, 

 and Frank L. Saunders is willing to 

 put up a small side bet that he can 

 outcut Constable James F. Bugbee, 

 John Hoskins is willing to try con- 

 clusions with Dr. E. K. Devitt, and 

 George Babcock is confident he can 

 cut more wood than Nat. Sheffield. 

 John Sterling, while a little out of 

 practice, is willing to have his pile 

 measured against Captain Voorhees' 

 and Griswold Perkins thinks he can 

 measure up a bigger pile than the 

 Rev. K. B. Welles, and so it goes. 



That fetched them all right. George 

 Babcock, the plumber, really did say, 

 "I'll be darned if they can cut more 

 wood than me." When you walked 

 up the street, the men would say, 

 "Well, got your ax sharpened?" 

 "Hey, Where's your ax?" Andrew 

 AIcGaw, the all-around man, set up a 

 grindstone in the hbrary cellar. It 

 travelled about five hundred miles the 

 first day. 



Then a fine pair of boots were seen 

 hanging in Bugbee's store — ^the prize 

 for the fellow who cut the most wood. 

 That was the finishing touch. It 

 lined up all the old regulars, so that 

 when the enrollment committee, for 



form's sake, asked the fellows who 

 only come to town on election day, to 

 every one's surprise, they "allowed" 

 they would be present. Fifteen 

 "huskies" from South Lyme calculat- 

 ed to come up to get those boots. 



Starting for the Woods 



The selectmen were to pay $ 1 a cord 

 for the standing timber and $2 50 a 

 cord to the men for chopping. They 

 would have it hauled and would sell 

 it to any citizen at just what was paid 

 plus the cartage. The wood should 

 all belong to the town. It was to be 

 a genuine community enterprise. 



Then came the day, cold and 

 clear — -ideal for chopping. An early 

 start seemed easy that morning. We 

 met at the town hall, like a lot of 

 kids out for a picni?. There were 

 Clark Voorhees, the landscape paint- 

 er, and Jack Noyes, the house painter; 

 there were the Hon. Joseph Hunting- 

 ton and Bob Appleby, farmer, father 

 of two boys in the service. The 

 minister, the store-keeper, the plumb- 

 er, the carpenter, the woodman, and 

 Tommy Haynes all were there. It 

 was a town holiday. The stores even 

 had closed to be in the swim. 



We got in the woods at Stone 

 House Ledge with shouts of glee, and 

 then the fun began. What music it 

 was to hear the play of axes through 

 the trees! An English cock pheasant, 

 frightened by such unwonted activity, 

 flew over the heads of the line of 

 workers. We shouted and lifted a 

 little prayer of thankfulness that we 

 were alive in the beauty of that 

 morning and sharing in the fellowship 

 and service of the day. 



It is marvelous how fast the 

 morning passed, and how happily. 

 Tommy Haynes, accompanied by the 

 State Fuel Commissioner's represen- 

 tative, urged us on to more heroic 

 efforts. 



Then came twelve o'clock, and 

 summonses from the cooks. There 

 never was such coffee, we are sure of 

 that. A wash-boiler full, and milk 

 and sugar! 



Mixed Company 



There we all lay on the ground 

 eating our victuals. Chris Anderson, 



