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Show 4 I Walt Mason CALIFORNIA WINTER. 'TIs winter ln this pleasant land where ' have pitched my moving tent but goods . like snow and sleet are banned, and I frosts don't function worth a cent. Yet fogs . ome drifting from the deep and I m.. ins and eves are often cold, and shlv-I shlv-I i f through your system creep, and all I the air seems damp with mould. And j i then you'd like to build a fire a good i old-fashioned touring Mas';, such as all I ; mortal scouts desire, on cold and lummy j w inter day . But here, w here all the prospects please, and only profiteer! are vile, you'll have to sit around and freeze : no man can own a curd wood pile. We buy our wood In iittle sacks which from j .some distant forests came; with chunks! the size of carpet tacks we feed the sad , I and ghastly flame, our coal we purchase by the (iuart. nn.l burning It seems quite a crime; no fire can roar and rip and I snort when fed e pellet at a time. The I fog enshrouds this winter night. It pierces . , through me like a sword, my lantern's! I l.urnlr.ir as 1 write It'a all the heat I I .in afford. Hut there are COUntlSSS I sunny days when everything Is fine and, I grand, and then I take my lyre and . praise the glories of thl wondrous land I Copvright by George Matthew Adams. I n . |