Harper's New Monthly Magazine Volume 139 June to November 1919 . on of hoar froststops. If you remember that all of us whohave spent more than a year living onthe country are quite of the Eskimoopinion that no food on earth is betterthan caribou meat, and if you have anyexperience in the life of a hunter any-where, you will realize that in theevenings when we sit in these warmhouses, feasting with keen appetites onunlimited quantities of boiled ribs, wehave all the creature comforts. What welack, if we feel any lack at all, will bepossibly the presence of friends far away,or the chance to hear
Harper's New Monthly Magazine Volume 139 June to November 1919 . on of hoar froststops. If you remember that all of us whohave spent more than a year living onthe country are quite of the Eskimoopinion that no food on earth is betterthan caribou meat, and if you have anyexperience in the life of a hunter any-where, you will realize that in theevenings when we sit in these warmhouses, feasting with keen appetites onunlimited quantities of boiled ribs, wehave all the creature comforts. What welack, if we feel any lack at all, will bepossibly the presence of friends far away,or the chance to hear opera or see themovies. At any rate, it is true that to-day in the movie-infested city I long formore snow-house evenings after caribou-hunts as I never in the north longed forclubs or concerts or orange-groves. Andthis is not peculiar to me. The men whohave hunted with me are nearly all ofthe same mind—they are either in thenorth now, on the way back there bywhaling-ship, or eating their hearts outbecause they cannot go. The Deeper Vision BY LAWRENCE PERRY. ELEN NORDYKEherself drew the smalltable containing cigars,cigarettes, and a curi-ous, gold-mounted de-canter of cognac to thechair in which IsraelBlanchard seated himself with an antici-patory sigh. My dear lady, he said, you arevery good to an old man—ah, Planet,eh! He turned to the decanter withglistening eyes. Prohibition in Wash-ington, then, is an adjustable fact? Some of us, she smiled, find ourcellars susceptible to a waning adjust-ment. In this case the weather justifiesourselves to our consciences. Sheturned to the window, against which therain of a gusty March evening was beat-ing with venomous lash; through thewatery darkness came the diffused glowof the lamps of Dupont Circle. What anight to venture forth in behalf of alonely woman! The man gestured and spoke consider the attraction—eh? Lighting a cigar, Blanchard settleddown in his chair, slowly turning theglass of brandy so that the am
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