that even our grnnd parents had sung, and 
I recalled hearing "When the corn is 
waving, gentle Annie,” as sung l*y my 
gnmdsire, and “The Heart Bowed Down” 
from my father, with recollections less 
refined, such as “Wail for the Wagon” 
and I held securely to my baby’s rompers and “Down Went McGinty." To s ng 
while he tugged to get a closer view; “Last Night the Nightingale Woke Me” 
1,000 ft. wide over a precipice 210 ft. and look up at the full, warm moon was 
high, the river then rushing on through not half bad. We reached home at three 
canyon walls of solid rock a thousand o’clock in the morning, and were so tired 
feet deen. Here it was that a short time we hardly knew how we got^ the children 
before a young woman was drowned as and ourselves into bed. We had eaten 
she attempted to take two passengers lunch in the wagon as we rode along, for 
across the river. The two men bad been our supper, but our nibbling was not very 
drinking, and they rocked the boat for hearty, so we were hungry when we went 
some reason, upsetting it. None of them to bed, but too tired to eat. 
was ever found. Shoshone Falls was prob- A Rabbit Breakfast. —Next morning 
ably at that moment grinding their bones I was the first one up. and then began 
• in the rocks at her feet. And here a preparations for “the breakfast”- the 
young Indian had leaped in the boiling best-remembered of my life, 
waters from the top of the falls to the “I’ll have to give you waffles and eggs 
bottom, and had been none the worse and coffee," 1^called to the men. “That 
for the experience. He was an educated is nll_ I have." 
Indian, traveling with a “show,” and was "What do you tnink we shot those cot¬ 
in love with one of the girls in the troupe, tontails for?” asked my husband. 
She was inclined to make sport of him. The men gathered in a group, knives 
When they came to Twin Falls to play. open, and in a moment they had dressed 
they all paid Shoshone Falls a visit. It those rabbits, and had the "saddles” and 
was while standing by deafening waters bind legs ready for me to fry. T bad made 
that the girl dared the young Indian t<. big crocks full of waffle batter, shortened 
leap over. He did so. History does not with cream, and percolated coffee. Who 
relate whether the young lady rewarded i> that batchelor who snvs a woman can- 
ids courageous folly as he would desire, not make good coffee? Let him bestow 
Homeward Bound. — We could see upon everv woman a percolator, and he 
nothing and hear nothing except the shin- need never malign the sex again, 
ing, booming waters all the time we were We had every requisite to make that 
there. Sight and sound were fascinating, breakfast a success, as I remarked at 
But we finally dragged ourselves away to first—appetite, good food cooked over a 
start the horses toward home. It had sagebrush fire, and the good, clean, wild 
been fun to ride the *25 miles there in a air of the untainted desert to breathe in 
farm wagon, and we were game. On the great gulps. Waffles, fried cottontail rab- 
wuy back we let the children sleep in beds bits, coffee—that was rny best breakfast, 
marie in the bottom of the wagon. We I wish everyone could experience the full 
elders sang all the songs we had ever zest of such eating under such conditions 
known, and all that we had ever heard, at least once in a lifetime. 
Back. back, our memories flew to songs annie pike greenwood. 
To Cook Woodchuck 
Cut young woodchuck in pieces, remove 
fat and small scent bags that are in the 
shoulders; they look like small kernels of 
fat. Bp sure to remove them, or the 
meat will not be tit to eat. Lay in cold 
salt water over night. In the forenoon 
take meat, wipe dry. season with pepper 
and salt and roll well in flour, brown in 
suet, lard or butter, then cover with 
boiling water and let simmer for one and 
one-half to two hours. 
For a change, add one quart of peas 
and two carrots, cut small; add a table¬ 
spoon of chopped parsley when done, and 
you will have a delicious fricassee; or 
you can add a quart of string beans with 
the carrots. 
For old woodchuck clean the same way, 
but lay in vinegar and water over night. 
Roll in flour as the other; brown two 
onions in two tablespoons of lard, then 
brown meat, add one cup of vinegar and 
hot water to cover meat. Use plenty of 
pepper; tie one bay leaf, five whole 
cloves and 10 whole black peppers in thin 
piece of nuislin, and let boil about four 
hours; add salt to taste. Make home¬ 
made noodles, cook, and put in baking 
pan with butter and grated bread crumbs 
over top; brown in oven; then have 
mashed potatoes and warm brown bread, 
with your own butter, and the old wood¬ 
chuck will he fit for a king, your husband 
will tell you; or, better still, for an 
American farmer. 
iWe had 16 woodchucks last year, and 
so far this year we have had 12. When 
we get too many I can them. Raccoons 
are also good to eat, but arp cooked alto¬ 
gether in a different way. No one eats 
skunks, only in papers and books; the 
smell is enough. The woodchucks taste 
far better if your husband shoots, as 
mine does, instead of catching them In a 
trap, as some do. as the meat gets fev¬ 
erish. MRS. COOK SHAFFER. 
Notes from a Sagebrush Farmer’s Wife 
Our Most Satisfactory Breakfast 
Town and Country. —A great many 
people remember the best dinner or tbe 
best supper they ever ate; but how many 
people remember tbe best breakfast of 
which they have partaken? Breakfast 
in the city is a casual affair, baW a grape¬ 
fruit, a few airy flakes Shaken from a car¬ 
ton. and eaten with near-cream, a bit of 
toast, an egg, a cup of coffee—this is a 
large breakfast, in which but few indulge, 
a piece of toast and coffee often taking 
the place of all. Not so on the farm. 
Breakfast is a well-rounded meal, as well 
as a square meal, with "something to bite 
on,” as my little Joe says when he is 
hungry. So it is not difficult to recall 
some good breakfasts we have consumed. 
But the best? The best breakfast I ever 
ate resembled those of the South, in that 
it was composed of waffles and fried. 
But 1 am getting ahead of my story. I 
can say. however, that this particular 
breakfast acquired value through the cir¬ 
cumstances which preceded it. It could 
not have been as good bad it not been 
cooked over a sagebrush fire in a cook- 
stove of a farmhouse set iu tbe sagebrush 
wilderness, and after a 50-mile ride in 
an ordinary farm wagon. 
The Two Widowers. —I do not know 
wlmt we would have done without the 
two widowers that first Summer on our 
sagebrush farm. They lived a mile from 
us on another farm. One of them had a 
time, and one ot them brought his taming 
machine. They both helped my husband 
fence bis farm from the rabbits, stock 
and hogs that ran in hordes all over the 
sagebrush desert, as it was then, for stock- 
men and pioneer farmers alike turned 
everything loose to graze. The two wid¬ 
owers and the little girl practically 
boarded with us. They were old comers 
and we were new comers. They could 
tell us strange stories of this unknown 
country, adventures and scenes. One topic 
to which they recurred often was the 
wonders of Shoshone Falls. 25 miles east 
of us. They told us that Shoshone Falls 
is higher than Niagara, and that the 
river is at that point 1.000 feet wide. 
Did we want to see it? We certainly did. 
but pioneer fanners, such as we were, 
are lucky to have a good milk cow and a 
strong team of horses, without dreaming 
of a car. The two men told us we could 
get there in the farm wagon; they had 
taken the trip in that mauuer before. I 
had no misgivings, for I had ridden just 
five miles in a farm wagon in my entire 
life. 
Sr uni ng Tin: Expediti o n. —One 
inorniug we got up at four o’clock and 
made preparations to go. 1 packed a 
good, substantial lunch, not forgetting a 
large quantity of my potato salad, of 
which the men wore especially fond. We 
left tbe house while it was still dewy 
morning. At our backs was a beautiful 
red Hush in the sky. where the sun was 
about to rise; not an ill omen in Idaho, 
where all signs fail. In a very short 
time even the scattering pioneer farms 
were iefr behind, and we were trekking 
through the sagebrush wilderness on a 
road which seemed to be the only mark 
of the white man. But it was only in 
seeming, for now ami thou we passed 
monuments of lava rock, piled one piece 
upon another. I thought that we were 
viewing the graves of Iudians, but I was 
informed by one of our friends that these 
were landmarks placed there by sheep- 
herders. so that they might follow each 
other, or find their way back to the start¬ 
ing point. We did not wonder that they 
so marked the wilderness, for the rolling 
hills. covered with sagebrush, and the 
perpendicular gashes of lava rock were 
repeated continually. The trip was not 
monotonous, as the men had their guns, 
and our wagon stirred up myriads of rab¬ 
bit'-. If 1 bad wanted to sentimentalize 
over poor little “Molly Cottontail." I 
would have had ample reason for doing 
so; but 1 believe ii is right to kill for 
food, and for food only, either to eat the 
animal or to preserve property that means 
support of human life. Hundreds of 
jack-rabbits scurried ahead of us. We 
cared nothing for them. The men filled 
a good part of the wagon with cotton¬ 
tails. 
The Fai.i.s. —We camped at noou not 
far from Snake River, and after dinner 
we were not long in reaching tin* high 
boulders which bank Shoshone Falls on 
that side of the river. Could Niagara be 
more beautiful? I gazed in awe upon 
the river where it spills in an enormous 
flow and drop, down into the foaming 
mist below. I could have leaped off 
tin* boulder down into its shining flood, 
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