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they would go away enriched. With the realization of it a great wave of kindliness swept over her. She longed to show her good-will even toward the hated store. Impulsively she turned to the counter. "Have you any birch-bark albums left?" she asked.

"Just one," said the patient girl within. Then seeing the friendly look she went on, "Isn't He great, though! I just can't bear to go away and leave Him all alone this winter withiout anyone to be company for Him." The Great Stone Face looked down benignly at the two.

AWAKENINGS

By Alice M. Shepard

As sometimes in a friend's house we awake
From deepest sleep and look around the room,
And drowsy, suffer sudden fright, and quake,
As if at some fixed, slow-impending doom,
And feel a loss of what we cannot tell,
And beat our wills against unyielding force,
Till memory arouses to dispell

The fears our prostrate senses would endorse;

We took a motor trip and rushed through air
Cooled by the dew which gathers after heat,
Our headlight caught the treetops in its glare
And changed their green to torches white and
fleet,

Then slowing down with creak of curbing brake
We entered where the portal shed its light
Oh, yes, a loving friend was there to take
Our hand, and bid us welcome for the night.

Shall sometime thus, our weary, torpid soul
Awake, in unfamiliar chamber, insecure
Amid surroundings strange to our control
And things we did not fashion or procure?
Shall we then half remember, as a dream,
A journey, rushing clouds, and flying stars,
Which lighted up our way with friendly gleam
Or traced our path with soft and fleecy bars?

Our soul then shall we shake, and stretch our
wings

To free them from their cramped and heavy sleep
Which like a long worn garment wraps and clings
In folds and wrinkles, hampering and deep?
Shall we forget earth's sad and last farewell,
The journey undertaken, full of dread,
Lost in the welcomes which all else excel,
Of those we love and mourned long years as
dead?

By Mary Blake Benson

Far away from the noise and confusion of the city, and where bird songs mingle happily with the fragrance of cool woods, there is a deserted pasture. On three sides it is separated from smooth green fields by irregular lines of old stone walls, over which wild blackberry vines and woodbine have dispersed themselves in confusion; but on the fourth side of the pasture, the land slopes lazily to the shores of a beautiful lake. Years of neglect have left their mark upon these few acres of land, the greater part of which is rapidly grow ing up to trees and bushes again. Cows have long since ceased to feed upon the grassy knolls, and birds and squirrels find in it an undisturbed. paradise. Almost in the center of the pasture stands a pine tree. I do not know how old it is, but in all the surrounding country there is none that can equal it in size or beauty. Its lowest branches which are perhaps ten feet above the ground, spread out over a circle at least twenty feet in diameter; while its topmost plumes toss themselves skyward no less than five times that distance above the soft bed of brown needles

at its base. On all sides aggressive alders and scrawny birches have crept up until they stand in a respectful circle around this monarch of the pasture. The storms of countless New England winters have broken over my pine, and icy winds have twisted and bowed its graceful branches. The suns of innumerable summers have poured their scorching rays down upon it, and once a swift bolt of lightning tore away a fine, big limb. But in spite of all, my pine has stood calm and serene throughout the years. "The peerless pine was the first to come and the pine will be the last to go!"

It waves me a welcome whenever I go home, and it murmurs a benediction when I leave. Oh, the happy hours I have spent beneath the shelter of my grand old tree! I have been soothed by its soft voices and cheered by the songs of birds in its branches. It has rejoiced with me in my gladness, even as it has comforted me in my sorrows. Its beauty never fails to thrill me with wonder; and its fragrance steals across the distance, bringing strength and courage to my weary soul.

MARCH

By Helen Adams Parker

Forbidding March has come at lastStill pile the wet logs higher;

But wait there lies, beneath his blast, The Spring of our Desire.

By Walter B. Wolfe

Jack Frost! Now there's a chap that somehow gets Too little credit from his fellowmen!

A poet, little understood by all

The sallow ox-eyed country folk-
His neighbors on the steps at Aulis's

Or loafing down at Tanzi's in the haze

And smoke of cheap cigars, have never heard
His name; they talk about the price of wheat,
Of Hardy's wife who has the chills again,
How Nye has bought a heifer of old Hodge;
And yet there isn't one of them that drives
Up to the town from Norwich, Lyme, or Wilder,
These sparkling winter mornings when the snow
Glistens as though some god had strewn the dust
Swept from a starry feasting chamber down
To our poor earth-not one of them that sees
Or understands the poems Jack has penned.

No other poet thinks to take his themes,
The simple homely things of everyday
And write such glorious poems our Jack Frost
Can write thereon! A sidewalk, windowpane,
The little pond high up on Occum Ridge
That dull professors pass without a thought
For beauty...... such are all that Jack would ask.
His poems? Full of dainty thought, of form
Delightful to the eye, piquant, and charmed
With airy grace! He has ideas too!

His head is full of curious rococo

Thoughts yeast and foam as in a cauldron there.
And yet our Jack is modest, shuns the glance
Of all who do not understand his faery art,
Or those concerned too much with worldly things.
And so it is he's never seen with men

Or walking on the streets he loves so well,
The streets in which he sees a shimmering world
Of many-colored beauties. Yet sometimes
When song wells in his heart so loud, so clear
He can no longer keep its melody

Shut in himself, some frosty morning when
The streets are covered with new-fallen snow,
He skips upon earth's samite mantle, runs
Out to the streets of Hanover, and writes
His charming verses on a thousand panes
Of glass; a poet of rare honesty,
A lapidary etching words like gems
He never fills a line with sounding words

To catch the yokel's ear for platitudes.

Dear Jack! His head's so full of melodies He needs must write on every windowpane Tripping from house to house with eager pen To jot his fanciful ideas down.

It's really very sad there are so few

To read the lyric greeting he has left

Gracing their windows on cold sunny mornings......

The nomination by President Harding on February 2, 1922,of Stephen Shannon Jewett of Laconia, New Hampshire, to be naval officer of customs in customs collections district Number Four, with headquarters at Boston, Mass., conformed to precedent of more than sixty years standing that this office should be filled by a distinguished political leader from the Granite State.

President Lincoln started the long line when he named for the place the Honorable Amos Tuck of Exeter, Free Soil Congressman, one of the founders of the Republican party,

at Washington, but all alike have been brilliant and loyal sons of the Granite State; Colonel Daniel Hall of Dover, like Governor Harriman soldier, orator and historian; Colonel Henry O. Kent of Lancaster, who shared the same distinctions; Frank D. Currier of Canaan, whose subsequent career in Congress was one of long and useful service; Charles F. Stone of Laconia, afterwards judge of the superior court of his state; James O. Lyford of Concord, one of the ablest and most efficient men New Hampshire public life ever has known; and John B. Nash of Conway, picturesque pleader in the political forum.

Of these, only Colonel Lyford, who held the Boston office from 1898 to 1913, and is now the esteemed and appreciated chairman of the New Hampshire state bank commission, survives.

Like most of the New Hampshire naval officers of the port of Boston, Colonel Jewett has been long prominent in the legal and political circles of his state. Born in Gilford, N. H., September 18, 1858, the son of John Glines and Carrie E. (Shannon) Jewett, he studied law with Judge Stone, named above, and was admitted to the bar in March, 1880. Since that time he has practiced his profession continuously in Laconia with marked success and during the past decade has enjoyed the pleasure of having his son, Theo Stephen Jewett, Dartmouth '13, as his partner. Mrs. Jewett was Annie L. Bray and the date of their marriage was June 30, 1880.

Mr. Jewett took an early interest in politics and was engrossing clerk of the state legislature, 1883; assistant clerk of the house, 1887 and 1889; clerk, 1891 and 1893; member, 1895; speaker, 1897; state senator, 1899; councilor, 1907. In the meantime he

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had been secretary and chairman of the Republican state committee and delegate-at-large and chairman of the delegation from New Hampshire to the national convention of 1896. At one time he was clerk of court for Belknap county; was for 18 years city solicitor of Laconia; and served on the staff of Governor David H. Goodell.

Colonel Jewett is a 33rd degree Mason and has been grand master of the grand lodge of New Hampshire, grand commander of the Knights Templar and grand master of the grand council. He is the holder of an honorary degree from Dartmouth. college and was one of the state's most active war workers. larity is co-extensive with his very wide acquaintance.

His popu

While the fact probably did not enter into the selection of Colonel Jewett for his new place it is interesting to note that he is a direct descendant in the ninth generation from generation from Nathaniel Shannon, who held the office of Naval Officer at the port of Boston from 1701 to 1721, being the first occupant of the place to receive his commission from the Governor of the Plantation and General Court of Massachusetts.

An interesting summary by Frederick E. Everett, state highway commissioner, of the work of his department in 1921, makes the somewhat surprising showing that although there was no legislative appropriation for trunk line construction there was more money expended for all highway purposes than in any previous year, namely, $825,000 for construction and $1,375,000 for maintenance.

Says Mr. Everett:

"The amount expended for maintenance and reconstruction greatly exceeds that of any previous year for several reasons, not the least of which is the fact that the winter of 1920-21 was one of the most severe in the his

tory of the department. There was very little snow and the roads were open for traffic during the entire winter with the result that the frost penetrated deeper than ever before, and being subject to traffic during the freezing and thawing weather, many sections were entirely cut to pieces that hitherto had answered all requirements.

"Another reason was that during the extremely dry weather of August, many of our gravel roads failed to carry the tremendous heavy traffic of the tourist season and it was clearly shown to the department that many sections of gravel of the main lines would have to be treated with some sort of a bituminous surface or dust layer early in 1922 and to get these roads in condition for this application of the bituminous material, extensive resurfacing was necessary and it was the endeavor of the department to do as much as possible of this resurfacduring the fall of 1921.

The mileage added to the improved roads, during the season of 1921 is as follows:

81.39 miles of new road.

17.98 of old road reconstructed. 65.81 of the new construction was of gravel and the remainder was made up of bituminous macadam, waterbound macadam, cement concrete and crushed gravel. Of the mileage of reconstructed road, 3 1-2 miles was gravel and the remainder made up of bituminous macadam and modified asphalt.

"It is known now that the revenue from the automobile licenses for 1922 will greatly exceed those of any previous years and extensive plans are being made by the department in anticipation of this increased revenue. There is also available from the federal government for expenditure this next year practically $365,000 which must be met by the state and towns.

"Inasmuch as there is practically no state money for trunk line construction, a greater part of this

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