The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1896-01-12
A NEW ENGLAND WOODPILE.
Sketch of nm Institution Dear to All
Who Were COuntrybred.

Rowland Robinson, in the Atlantic.
When the charitable mantle OF the snow
has covered the ugliness of the earth, as
one looks towards the woodlands he may
see distant dark speck emerge from the
blue shadow of the woods and crawl slowly
houseward. If born to the customs of this
wintry land, he may guess at once what 1t
is; if not, speculation, after little, gives
way to certainty, when the indistinct atom
grows into a team Of quick-stepping horses
or deliberate oxen hauling a sled-load of
wood to the farmhouse.
1t is more than that. 1t is a part of the
woods themselves, with much Of their wild
ness clinging to it, and with records, Slight
and fragmentary, yet legible, of the lives
Of trees and birds and beasts and men,
coming to our door.
Before the sounds Of the creaking sled and
the answering creak OF the snow are heard.
one sees the regular puffs of the teams
breath letting out and climbing the cold
air. The head and shoulders of the muf-
fed driver then appear, as he sticks by mar
row foothold to the hinder part of his sled,
or trots behind it beating his breast with
his numb hands. Prone like crawling
band of scouts endwise like battering-rams,
not upright, with green banners waving,
| Birnam wood comes to Dunsinane to fight
| King Frost
AS the woodpile grows at the farmhouse
| door in a huge windrow of sled-iength wood
| or even wall of cordwood, so in the
| woods there widens patch OF uninterrupt-
| ed daylight. Deep shaae and barred and net
ted SnauoW turn to almost even whlteneSs
| as the ak saps the foundations OF summer
| homes or blrus and the winter fastnesS of
| the squirrels and raccoOns. Here are the
| tracks or sled and team, where they wound
1ia
| knobs to make up load; and there are
those or the chopper by the stump where he
stood stood to EEL the tree and along the great
| tecked with chips, dark or pale according
| to their kind, just as they alighted from
| their short flight, bark up or down or bark
| less edgewise, and with dry twigs and
| torn scrans Of scattered moss.
When the chopper comes to this work In
| the morning, he rinds traces of nightly WIS.,
| itors to his white island that have 'drifted
| TO its shores out OF the gray sea Of woods.
| Here is the print Of the hares furry foot
where he came TO niDble the twigs of poplar
and birch that yesterday were switching the
| clouds, but have fallen, manna-like, from
| skyward to feed him. A fox has skirted its
| Shadowy margin, then ventured to explore
| 1t, and in a thawy night raccoon has
| twaddled across IL.
The woodman is apt to kindle fire more
| for company than warmth, though he sits
| by 1t to eat his cold dinner, casting the
| crumbs to the chickadees that come fear
| lessly about him at all times. Blazing or
| the fire humaniZes the woods more than
| the man does. Now and then it draws to it
a visitor. oftenest fox hunter who has lost
| his hound, and stops for q moment to light
| his pipe at the embers and to ask If his
| dog has been seen or heard Then ne wadeS
| or through the snow, and is presently
| swallowed out of sight by gray trees and
| blue shadows Or the hound comes in search
| of his master or lost trail. He halts for
| an instant, with wistful look on his sor-
rowful face. then disappears. nosing his
| way into the NAV of the woods.
II the wood is cut sled length which is
| a saving of time and also OF chips, that
| to boil the teakettle in summer, instead Of
rottlng to slow fertilization of the woodlot,
hands or day man." and helps load the
sled when 1t comes. II the wood is four
foot he is professional chopping by the
cord, and not likely to pile his cords too
high or long, nor so closely that the squir-
rels have much more trouble in making
their way through them tnan over them;
and the man comes and goes according to
his ambition to earn money.
In whichever capacity the chopper plies
mentalism to his task He inherits the feel
ing that was held by the old pioneers
toward trees, who looked upon the noblest
Of them as only giant weeds. encumbering
the ground, and best got rid Of by the
shortest means. To him the tree is foe
worthy of no respect or mercy, and he feels
the triumph OF savage conquerer when Ii
comes crashing down and he mounts the
PROSTATE trunk to dismember 1t; the more
yedr-markS encirclng Its heart the greater
his victory To his ears, its many tongues
tell nothing, or preach only heresy. Away
with the old tree to the flames. To give
him his due, he is a skillful executioner,
and will compel tree to fall across any
selected stump within it's length. If one
could forget the tree, 1t Is pretty sight to
watch the. easy swing of the AK and see
how unerringly every blow goes to it's mark
knocking out chips of spans breadth. 1t
does not look difficult nor like work; but
could you strike twice In a place." or in
half day bring down a tree twice as thick
as your body? The wise farmer cuts, for
fuel, only the dead and decaying trees in his
woodlot, leaving saplirgs and thrifty old
trees to stand up and grow better" as the
Yankee saying is.
There is a prosperous and hospitable look
in great woodple at a farmhouse door
Logs with the moss of hundred years on
them, breathing the doors of the woods,
have come to warm the inmates and all in
corners. The white smoke of these CHM
neys is spicy with the smell of seasoned
hard wood, and has the SAVIOR of roasts and
stewS that makes one hungry. If you take
the back track on a trail Of pitchy smoke
it is sure to lead you to a squal,1 threshold
with it's starved heap of pine roots and
half-decayed wood. Thrown down careless
~ beside it is dull ak, welded as need re-
quires with spiteful awkwardness by a slat-
ternly woman, or laboriously upheaved and
let fall with uncertain stroke by a small
boy.