Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1889-01-26
AN EXPERT ON WINTER.
why He Likes This Sort Better Than
the Old-Fashioned Sort.

Bob. Burdstte in Brooklyn Eseie
stand up and confess, without shame or re-
morse, without . blush on my fair round cheek
or pang Of my good New York conscience,
that like this sort Of winter. And Just my
luck, 1t comes when have buried my lecture
certain fathoms In the desk and abandoned
the road. am not q worshiper Of stern win
ter. am salamander. love TO stretch out
on fragrant log and bask in the sun. do
not love to break the ice when I want q bath.
do not enjoy waiting for delayed trains in
draughty stations where the FIRE 10 out and one
uncertain kerosene lamp with broken Chin
ney that smokes like sophomore in spite of
the warning prohibition posted up above the
ticket Office window; while the Pickering fame
nils the dismal room with dim. religious
night, about nine parts dim to one religious;
where the operator, perplexed by the
ADVERSE INFLUENCE OF THE ELEMENTS
and the perplexing questions Of the impatient
passengers who are not exactly passengers
either, but would like to be IL there were any,
thing TO ride on, mutters wrathful compli-
ments about the train dispatcher who is send
ing him orders about trains that he hasn't
heard OF for five hours; where the nearest
tavern is mile away, and shutup tighter than a
nunnery when you get to it; where disagree
able boys who ought TO be in bed or paradise
continually run in and out, and leave the doors
open. and bring in raw blasts from boreal
climes and throw snow balls and shuttle and
shuttle and howl; don't like this sort Of thing.
And worse still, when it happens that the
station at which you are cast ashore is not q
night office; where no one comes to help you
while away the lonely hours save only o couple
OF big burly tramps, who
COME IN DRUNK AND SWEARING
and kick your valise and ask if it is yours; and
you wonder whether to start for the distant
hotel and get knocked down on the way or stay
in the station and get robbed peaceably, and
finally settle the matter by getting on the frs
train that comes along, cattle train going tn,
wrong way. Or when you are called at $50 a
m, and learn that the only tavern in the tow
doesn't run bus to that train; when you dres
in the dark because you knock the glass lamI
to the floor while you are feeling for it; no por
ter to help you to the station; when you wall
about three-quarters of a mile through bitinf
December wind, until you can't tell you
numbed fingers from the handle of your grip
and the only reason you don't let it fall is be
cause you can't unclasp your frozen fingers
when you discover, about half way to the sta
ton that you left your arctics at the tavern
when you slip on glare of ice and fall on
clod of frozen dirt-striking il with such fore,
that the end of your spine lifts the hat off you
head. And talking about hard things, there i
nothing in all this hard-hearted, pitiless oil
world
30 HARD AS A FROZEN cLoD.
There is some little elasticity about gran;t
boulder or an ingot of steel when you fall OIL
them, but frozen clod, in the night, standing
about two inches higher than its fellow, feel
that it has the whole firm earth at its back; i
feels and knows that it is a part of the grea
globe itself; it stands on its eternal base
fixed, immovable; and when you go down AM
make the external contact, and note the poin
of primal impingment you have the impression
that you have been struck by the great whirlin,
terrestrial globe. Talk about hard linesi Whel
the cars are cold and the brakemen are cross
when the woman whose new furs are such
novelty to her that she keeps them on an,
opens a window right in your face, and the maj
behind you opens another on your back; whel
the towels in your room at the hotel are frozel
to the rack; when wind bangs a shutter lik,
mad all night, numbering sleep and drivin.
you frantic with nervousness until at last yol
get up, open the window, catch your death o
cold while feeling around in the darkness To-
that shutter only to discover that it is on
window in the next room-do / love a clear
keen, sharp, bracing winter Of snow and ice
biting wind, ringing skates, hail and sleet
No, by Saint Lawrence, / do not Order m,
something warm.