**WHAT SHALL I NEED?" 177 



ing the fires and hauling more wood for the second night's 

 campaign. 



Over at the post-office, a group of blue-lipped, blue- 

 skinned, blue-all-over neighbors were comparing notes — 

 they were all on one key — F(roze) sharp ; as to oranges, 

 "Trees not hurt," so far. 



We pulled an orange from one of our scattering trees, 

 outside the fire protection, and it was a curiosity. A trans- 

 verse cut showed particles of ice to its very center. 



It was a joke we had never expected to see played on us 

 in Florida (our joyous, genial Florida !) to try to pour water 

 from our pitcher in the morning, tAvo hours after the fire 

 had been kindled in the stove, and find it literally '* no go" 

 because a thick covering of ice shut it in. But we don't 

 blame Florida, it was all Jack Frost's fault. She did not 

 like him any more than we did — pulled down a brown veil 

 all over her face and went into a brown study ; she was 

 very absent-minded, particularly with regard to Jack, 

 feeling she could cherish his memory more warmly if he 

 were to absent himself. How can he expect to make warm 

 friends when he treats them so frigidly ? 



When we stepped out of doors Sunday morning the first 

 thing we saw called forth an exclamation — Jack Frost's 

 card, in the shape of a long, thick icicle depending from 

 the ice-coated stone filter that stands on our porch, and 

 reaching from its point down into the bucket below, where 

 it rested on a sea of ice, "more or less." In the provision 

 closet, on the piazza, the butter was so solid that it had to 

 be chopped ; the beefsteaks were stiff* as boards, and the 

 potatoes, cooked the day before, were so solid that they 

 actually bent the knife that foolishly essayed to cut them, 

 and had to be put in the oven to thaw out before a second 

 attack was made on them. 



Did n't we wish we had a servant to take the brunt of 



12 



