Where Town and Country Meet 



turn for fullest zest in those weather com- 

 petitions that are distinctively nature's own 

 the great snows and blows; the cold that 

 splits the trunks of trees in the night with a 

 crack like a pistol shot; the tremendous 

 thunderstorms, when all the blackened day 

 is tremulous with diffused electricity, and 

 balls of fire dart hither and thither, and the 

 incessant roll of the thunder is broken only 

 by reverberating crash upon crash; the 

 floods, sweeping away farmhouses, and 

 barns, and chicken coops unwillingly navi- 

 gated by cats; the earthquake shocks un- 

 noticed in the city's roar and jar that break 

 windows and old-time crockery, and send 

 country women flying outdoors in terror. 

 These are events in which the competitive 

 American spirit may fitly exult fit to be 

 chronicled in country papers, and pasted 

 into scrapbooks, and recalled from season 

 to season with unwearied local pride. 



I suppose I shall never forget the glory 

 of being once snowed-up in a Vermont 

 farmhouse, and having to help cut a way 

 out, literally after the fashion of Whittier's 

 snow-bound country boys. It was such a 

 triumph over those of my own family who 

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