^§e ^a^ of tS)^ &ani> 



grocery? his bins, cribs, mows, and attics so many 

 pasteboard boxes, bottles, and tin cans ? Tinned squash 

 in pie may taste Uke any squash pie ; but it is no longer 

 squash; and is a squash nothing if not pie? Oh, but 

 he gets a lithograph squash upon the can to show him 

 how the pulp looked as God made it. This is a sop 

 to his higher sensibilities; it is a commercial re- 

 minder, too, that life even in the city should be more 

 than pie, — it is also the commercial way of preserving 

 the flavor of the canned squash, else he would not 

 know whether he were eating squash or pumpkin or 

 sweet potato. But then it makes little difference, 

 all things taste the same in the city, — all taste of 

 tin. 



There is a need in the nature of man for many 

 things, — for a wife, a home, children, friends, and a 

 need for winter. The wild goose feels it, too, and no 

 length of domesticating can tame the wild desire to 

 fly when the frosts begin to fall; the woodchuck feels 

 it; carry him to the tropics and still he will sleep as 

 though the snows of New England lay deep in the 

 mouth of his burrow. The partridge's foot broadens 

 at the approach of winter into a snowshoe; the er- 

 mine's fur turns snow-white. Winter is in their bones ; 



44 



