to see on the prairies of Manitoba long ago. The farmhouses we pass
are bright with lights, and I know the children are gathered around
the table to "do" their lessons. The North Country, with its long,
snowy winters, develops the love of home in the hearts of our people,
and drives the children indoors to find their comfort around the fire.
Solomon knew this when he said that the perfect woman "is not afraid
of the snow for her household." Indeed, no; she knows that the snow is
a home-developing agency, and that no one knows the joy and comfort of
home like those of us who have battled with cold and storm and drifted
roads all day, and at nightfall come safely to this blessed place
where warmth and companionship await us! Life has its compensations.

Across the aisle from me two women are knitting--not in a neighborly,
gossipy way, chatting meanwhile, but silently, swiftly, nervously.
There is a psychological reason for women knitting just now, beyond
the need of socks. I know how these women feel! I, even I, have begun
to crochet! I do it for the same reason that the old toper in time of
stress takes to his glass. It keeps me from thinking; it atrophies the
brain; and now I know why the women of the East are so slow about
getting the franchise. They crochet and work in wool instead of
thinking. You can't do both! When the casualty lists are long, and
letters from the Front far apart--I crochet.

Once, when I was in great pain, the doctor gave me chloroform, and it
seemed to me that a great black wall arose between me and pain! The
pain was there all right, but it could not get to me on account of the
friendly wall which held it back--and I was grateful! Now I am
grateful to have a crochet-needle and a ball of silcotton. It is a
sort of mental chloroform. This is for the real dark moments, when the
waves go over our heads.... We all have them, but of course they do