The Anaconda standard. [volume] (Anaconda, Mont.) 1889-1970, 1899-02-14
STORM IN THE SUBURBS.
A Time When Nature Again Takes Pos
sion of the Advancing City's Territory.

From the New York Sun
There are in these parts suburban
nights entertainme that differ great
ly from the semi-rural moonlight pic
MICS on mosquito-haunted headlands Of
the sound and the small and early SUI
burban hops ending in mad scramble
for the last train into town. Whatever
the season, when night deecends upon
the suburbs, like Sunday. it brings to
the region a renewal of youth, a SEEM
ing return to the time when country
lanes We're not called streets or country
highways avenues, when tenement
dwellerts removed out OF town did not
suspend the Monday wash from the
attic windows: when the Bowery dia-
lect had not penetrated more than half
way to Yonkers.
Spring frogs in the suburbs peep just
as their ancestors did in the damp low
lands of Westchester The hum and
murmur Of the suburban summer night
is as clamoring, yet soothing, as the in
sect chorus from the widest rural
thicket side. Suburban rainy nights in
April are downshod and narcotic, just
as they must have been to the earliest
Dutchman that built his adventurous
home above the Harlem. Late October
nights beneath keen stars pour their
frostbitten atmospheric wine for the SUI
burban, as they poured for his prede
cessor, when no encroaching city
threatened to break the truce long es-
tablished between nature and intrusive
man. But surprising in some respects
the suburban nights entertainment of
all other seasons are those afforded by
the winter nights. Cold is sharper,
snow is deeper, winds are higher in the
suburbs than in the city. The snow
storms that come upon the suburbs in
the true midnight of the year, when the
s,,&-
spring flowers are months distant, come
with all-obliterating power and carry
the region straight back to stage-coach
days, snow blocked highways and mid
winter isolation. Then the suburban,
seated by the glowing hearth. which
pours through the chimney hot breath
of defiance into the very bosom of the
storm, hears, borne in muff1ed tones
from the Sound, the momentary long,
lowptched groaning boot Of the fog
horn and straightway feels the cozi-
ness and comfort of the hearthside
doubled. He sees through frosted VIM
dow panes the woodland wall faint in
the haze of falling flakes. Nature has
repossessed her own, not by the sooth-
ing quiet of Sunday evenings. not by
the enticement and glamour of NOON
light but by the power of storm and
cold. The footprints of the advancing
town are buried and obltterated. I'm
pertinent electric lights are choked and
quenched in the mealy doWnpour, and
even the perpetual dawn of the great
city, which hovers 30 degrees above the
southwark horizon, is dfmmed and dis
sipated.
Bedtime finds the chamber windows
sealed with snow against too intrusive
cold and wind. The raving of the
storm, the boot of the siren are merely
soothing music Wrapped in that con-
trast between coziness within and storm
without, the suburbanite dreams of
feathery dovecotes and woolly Sheep
folds, of warm rooms lit only with
amazing logs, Of close curtained VIM
dows and tufted carpets, of slippered
ease and cushioned rest. Of urban tur-
MOL stilled and rural peace supreme.