https://omekaclassic4.nhlibraries.org/files/original/35743262b45d0dcee64971c1d5d6dfc9.pdf 3a477c91c4e15732f876c5ace82e729a Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The New Hampshire Troubadour Subject The topic of the resource Troubadour Description An account of the resource The New Hampshire Troubadour was a publication of the State of New Hampshire's State Planning and Development Commission in Concord, NH from 1931-1950s. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The State of New Hampshire Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The State of New Hampshire Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1930s-1950s Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource NHSL Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource State of New Hampshire Troubadour PDF files of the Troubadour OCR OCR of the Troubadour The New Hampshire TROUBADOUR JULY 1950The New Hampshire Troubadour Comes to you every month, singing the praises of New Hampshire, a state whose beauty and opportunities should tempt you to come and share those good things that make life here so delightful. State Planning and Development Commission, Concord, New Hampshire. One dollar a year. Entered as second-class matter, May .11, 1949, at the Post Office at Concord, New Hampshire, under the Act oj March 3, 1879. ANDREW M. HEATH, Editor Volume XX JULY, 1950 Number 4 Small Boy On a Horse by Harry Elmore Hurd f rom his hook “ Yankee Boundaries" The work of day is done Beneath the whirling sun: The final load of hay Fills the upper bay. The horses clatter free From the whippletrec. This is the hour of joy For the farmer boy Who, climbing from the rack, Mounts the nigh-horse's back. The team-horse, glad to follow, Follows to the hollow: The thirsty horses drink At the clear brook’s brink. The crystal water flows Around each sloshing nose. The horses drink their till Then gallop up the hill Through the great barn door The boy slides to the floor With a shout of glee And strips each harness free: Pegs them on the wall Then spanks each horse to stall. Who knows a greater joy Than this farmer lx>v?LICKING THE DASHER There is a generation of children growing up in our towns and cities unfamiliar with an experience common to childhood of an earlier era. I refer to the cooperative effort of a family in the making of ice cream. I notice it because when our family goes on a picnic with another family and I suggest that I will take along a freezer of ice cream, the other parties seem surprised that anyone can be so old-fashioned. This is a situation that should change for the better, for in my humble opinion a family is to be pitied if an ice cream freezer is not a part of their household equipment. When I was a child, ice cream could be purchased at the ice cream parlors for twenty-five cents a quart. Though there were fewer flavors then than now, the quality was as good or better, with fewer synthetic products put into the making of it. Not many families in our neighborhood bought their ice cream, however, except when mothers spent the afternoon at their sewing clubs and stayed too late to make dessert for supper. All of us had freezers, and at least once a week they were put to excellent use. Of course ice refrigeration was the rule then, and when the ice man came we asked him to leave us an extra piece for our use in making ice cream. We never had to pay for it, as I recall. It was usually a small piece that had been chipped from a larger one in measuring for some ice chest. Freezing ice cream was one task for which Mother never failed to receive ready cooperation. For cracking the ice and turning the crank any two of the six children of the family were anxious to help. The work itself was not insignificant. In fact, for children, it was hard compared to other tasks, but the reward made us forget. While we worked it was the reward we had in mind. We had the privilege of licking the dasher when the freezing was done!Vanilla ice cream was the stand-by, especially in winter. Summer brought variety, beginning with strawberries. A quart of berries was mashed through a sieve, sugared, and with a little lemon juice was partly frozen before the cream mixture was added. To the cream Mother always added four eggs to make it more nourishing. The cracked ice and rock salt were then piled high over the container and the freezing progressed for as long as the one turning the crank could continue. Toward the last the assistant was helping to hold the freezer steady, for then it took real muscle to turn the mechanism. Mother was called to be ready with a bowl or platter and a long-handled spoon, and when she began to give assistance everyone in the household at the time was likely to arrive on the scene with a teaspoon or tablespoon in hand. (ruernsty mites ami small air I at Stvelr Hill harm. Sanharataa WINSTON l*OTKWhat heavenly anticipation that was, the wait before the top came off! The cold salt water had to be poured out the side hole. The top of the container was wiped free of salt. The lid was then lifted. Success or failure was in our Ohs and Ahs. Mother waited for everyone to take the spoonful from the top and then she lifted the dasher, slowly, carefully, scraping off the excess that clung to it. The ones who had done the work watched to see that she didn't scrape off too much, for, after all, the ice cream left on it was their reward. Oh, but licking that dasher was fun! There were two parts to it, and we would separate them and go to it. When all the spoonable cream was off, into our mouths they went, our tongues licking the goodness still clinging to them. Then our bowl or platter with the melted cream that had run off was finished. In addition to vanilla and strawberry there was peach ice cream in season, made in much the same way as the strawberry, with a little more lemon to keep it from tasting Hat. Or there was a birthday favorite of pink peppermint, made by soaking red and white peppermint candies in cream overnight and using the mixture as seasoning. With chocolate birthday cake, this was what today’s children would call “Super.” Raspberry time brought sherbet, made with the sweet red juice, the milk being added after it was partly frozen. The berries were also used raw in ice cream, the seeds being left in, dotting the lighter pink with their darker red. A lemon sherbet was an economical treat, made with four lemons, two oranges, a quart of sugar and three quarts of milk. In our household we have worked out a scheme for having all the delights of old-fashioned ice cream when we want it. We fill two large bread pans with water to freeze in the electric refrigerator, so that we are not dependent on delivery of ice. We have a huge brown bean pot, too large for baking beans for our small family, which has in it the supply of rock salt. The freezer we have holds only two quarts, but we often use the same ice and salt for a second 6 The July 1950ELEANOR ROST Girl campers climbing \It. Kearsarge kind, storing the gallon in ice cube trays for as long as it lasts. I find it just as easy to get the cooperation of the family as my mother did. There is the reward that follows the work, just as there was years ago. All this talk about ice cream has made me hungry for some. What kind will it be? Whatever it is, it will be ice cream as it should be, made with the best of everything, in the good old-fashioned way, even to the licking of the dasher! New Hampshire Troubadour 7AMONG THE GREAT FROM THE GRANITE STATE Fourth Series LjJ. 2),,*ne SriM, 3. Charles Anderson Dana (August 8, 1819-October 17, 1897) On the 4th or January, 1950, the . \ eu• York Sun, for over a century one of the leading newspapers of the United States, was absorbed into the World-Telegram, itself a merger of two one-time independent metropolitan dailies. In the many tributes that were penned to the Sun, few took occasion to point out that the greatest name connected with it during its one hundred and seventeen years was by birth a son of New Hampshire. Charles A. Dana, like his even better-known contemporary, Horace Greeley, was born in a small New Hampshire village. Whereas the latter began his life in Amherst, Dana was a native of Hinsdale. His father was a country storekeeper who failed in business, and moved his family to New York State. Young Dana from his early teens largely supported himself, and by his own efforts learned Latin and Greek in his spare time. He matriculated at Harvard in the fall of 1839. Illness prevented his completing his studies, but many years later he was granted an honorary B.A. degree by the College. In the early 1840’s, like so many other idealistic young men of his day, he was sympathetic with the communal experiments being made in the United States. For some years he lived at Brook Farm, associating with George Ripley, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Margaret Fuller, and others. In 1847, however, he abandoned this approach to life, and sought his fortunes in newspaper work in New York. Speedily lie secured the city editorship of the \ew York Tribune, the rising daily owned and published by his fellow-New Hampshire-born journalist, Horace Greeley. For fifteen years he was Greeley’s right-hand man. But in 1862 he left the Tribune to assume special duties as a correspondent with the Union armies in the Civil War, and the next year, 1863, President Lincoln named him Assistant Secretary of War. He came to know well many of the notable figures of the period: Lincoln himself, General Grant, General Sherman, Secretary Stanton, and others. Late in 1867 Charles A. Dana acquired the Aew Tork Sun for the price of Sl75,000, and assumed the editorship in January, 1868. Said he of the Sun under his management: “. . . it will endeavor to present its daily photograph of the whole world’s doings in the most luminous and lively manner.” In this objective he brilliantly succeeded. He specialized in the technique of “interviewing” people. He introduced to the journalistic world many names destined for greatness in later years: Richard Harding Davis, Arthur Brisbane, David Graham Phillips, Jacob A. Riis, Joseph Pulitzer, and Frank Ward O’Malley. One of his editors coined the well-known newspaper dictum: “When a dog bites a man, that is not news, but Culisthenics at eleven in the mornhift are a popular feature at Hampton Heat h tlurinn the summer season r.KORCK HAGOPIAN when a man bites a dog, it is.” Another of his editors in 1897 penned the world-famous editorial, “Is There a Santa Claus?” By the time of his death. Dana had gone a long way from the poverty of his youth in New Hampshire. But it is not fanciful to believe that some of the rugged qualities characteristic of his early life in the Granite State entered deeply into his soul, and helped to make him the noted newspaper man that he was. At least, in meditating on the 1950 passing of the .Yew York Sun, one is entitled to think so. (Next month’s article: John Sargent Pillsbury) THE LITTLE STONE HOUSE Lj JJefen CL re Wills High on a hilltop outside of Lyme Plain in New Hampshire overlooking the White Mountains to the east and south and the Green Mountains to the west, its baek snuggled in the lee of a hillside to the north, stands the “little stone house.” It boasts a rijx* old age of one hundred and sixty years, as well as seventy acres of rocky, rolling land. The owner, Rachel Alice Miller, possesses a charming personality, and is ever ready with a sincere smile of welcome for the visitor; her eyes sparkle with the joy of living and her enthusiasm for the country is infectious. Although not a native New Englander her love for New Hampshire stems from her girlhood when she came north from Puerto Rico to attend Vassar College. It was here she became enamoured of the countryside. After graduating she returned to Puerto Rico where, for almost thirty years, she owned and operated a gift shop in San Juan . . . during the summer months every year she permitted herself to belured to New England. At last, she decided that she wanted to own a place, and spent an entire summer looking for her dream house in New Hampshire. One day she picked up a real estate pamphlet and saw a picture of the “little stone house” . . . she fell in love with it at once, but made no decision until the following January when she wrote to the owner making an offer which, much to her delight, was accepted. The “little stone house” was really hers! The summer previous when she had first looked at the house the owner, a tall, slender lady in her seventies, had walked Miss Miller briskly all around the property gliding over rocks and fences with the agility of a deer . . . she loved the house and the land, she said, but found at 73 years young it was “just a little rugged” in the wintertime! Then, three years passed before Miss Miller saw her house again. She had closed her gift shop when she felt it could contribute in no way to the war effort, and took a position with the Government Censorship Department for a year during which time she lived with a friend on a sugar plantation. When her friend closed the place togo into aviation Miss Miller decided that what she really had wanted to do all along was to go back to New England and live permanently in the “little stone house.” She decided to bring a Puerto Rican family back with her consisting of Anselmo Rios, his wife Aleja, and Felicita their little eighteen-moilths-old daughter, to help on the land. Miss Miller stresses the fact that the Puerto Ricans are as a whole dependable, trustworthy, honest and appreciative. She had a small house built for them which was completed in time for them to enjoy their first Thanksgiving Day in it. They are adjusting to our way of life, and our climate, and showing an interest in learning. Anselmo is studying painting, belongs to the local baseball team, to the Men’s Club, and to the Church fellowship group. The Rios have three children now, and it is Miss Miller's aim to give them a happy childhood that will serve them as a bulwark when they are. in future years, compelled to face the world with its complex relationships. In the evening before they are ready for bed they gather round her knee for evening prayer. Often, when she has a spare moment, she will read A. A. Milne to them. Through her efforts two boys have been brought from the Island and have located on farms where they are doing good work; she is now arranging to have a Puerto Rican girl brought up to help her in the house. Beside teaching Sunday School, and actively participating in civic affairs she plays the piano and enjoys reading, although she says she never has enough time for it. Her day Ix'gins at five o’clock in the morning; by six o’clock she is out in the barn superintending the milking of the cattle . . . Guernsey, Jersey, and one Holstein for quantity. 1 asked her if she had known anything about farming before coming to New England and she replied “Not a thing, but Government bulletins are wonderful!” She started to chuckle at this point and told the story of a neighboring ingenue farmer who bought twelve cows and thought it wouldn't be right to have justone bull . . . she wanted them all to be happy so she bought twelve . . . one apiece! She also has a sheep fold (these I've found are rare in X. H.) and contrary to all books on “how sheep should behave,” six baby lambs arrived the day after Christmas, and another one a few weeks later. Baby ducklings are busy growing up in a brooder house, and the chickens are fast approaching the stage where they’ll lx‘ laying. This is Miss Miller’s tenth year on the farm and she loves it dearly. She feels that the land is full of “hope” and that regardless of how tired one may be, or how discouraged, with the dawn of a new day hope comes Hooding back, and life is good again. “The Little Stone House” stands steeped in the tradition of New Hampshire living, and it is no surprise that all who enter find the peace that comes with good living and congenial companionship. Sailing on Lake IT’entu'orth ERIC M. SANFORDFront Cover: Summer scene at Laurel Lake, Fitzwilliam Depot. Color photo by Kric M. Sanford. Back Cover: Lake Chocorua and Mt. Chocorua. Highway route 16 at this point is scheduled to be improved and somewhat relocated for some distance, the work to begin next autumn. Photo by Winston Pote. Frontispiece: The Flume Cascade in Crawford Notch after a heavy rain. An extensive improvement program is in progress at the Crawford Notch state reservation. Photo by State Forestry and Recreation Commission. M rs. Wayne R. Schadel writes from Burdett, Kansas, that the school children there often borrow her copies of the Troubadour, and that they have inspired the planting there of much needed trees. As a gesture of friendship between the students of the University of Alaska and those of New F.ngland College, Henniker, an Alaskan birch tree, now growing in sight of Mt. McKinley, is to be sent for planting on the campus of the New Hampshire institution. “Old Timer” claims that “panfish” are so named because they fit nicely in a skillet and sputter deliciously when browned in the vicinity of salt pork. In late July and in August, when extra-warm and sunny days sometimes confine successful trout and bass fishing to early morning or late afternoon sessions, many fishermen turn to the panfish — yellow and white perch, horned pout and pickerel. With the exception of horned pout these fish may be taken on artificial lures, by casting or by trolling, and all are taken by still fishing with bait. The horned pout bites best at night. Shiners are usually the l>est still fishing bait for pickerel, continues “Old Timer,” but angleworms seem to be the potatoes of the rest of the tribe. Don't expect even perch always to be foolish, however. Three or four feet of nylon between the hook and your line, and a small bobber so the bait can drift away from your boat’s shadow, may make a big difference in your luck. A variety of baits — crawfish, grasshoppers, crickets — may be used to good advantage, and big fish of any species usually find a lively shiner very tempting. But New Hampshire fish are true Yankees and sometimes shy away fromfancy gadgets. They also arc apt to lose their appetites when they can see the fisherman too plairly. And they sometimes seem to be on vacation at parts unknown. That gives the fisherman a chance to go swimming, take a nap, or get re- acquainted with his family. Ten Miles Out, a guide book to the Isles of Shoals (off Portsmouth), by Lyman V. Rutledge, published by the Isles of Shoals Unitarian Association, 355 Boylston St., Boston, Mass., fifty cents. It lists points of interest on the islands and gives a historical chronology. Amherst Open House will feature the opening of twelve old houses to the public 1:00 to 6:00 P.M. July 7, and 10:30 to 6:00 o’clock July 8. The houses, including the Horace Greeley birthplace, date from the 1700’s and early 1800’s. Hostesses will be in costume in all of the houses. The program includes a tea each day and a luncheon on Saturday, the 8th. The town’s old fire engines will be on display on the common, and one may see early town records in the selectmen’s office. Proceeds from the affair will be used for restoration of the Congregational Church, which was built in 1771- 1774. The Horace Greeley hirthfdace at holier st. one of the old houses lit he often to the ftuhlie on July 7 and II see announcement . Greeley, /minder and eililor of the S«*u York Tribune, lit is horn there in lltll. The house icas fturchuseil and restoreil in 19 Why Mr. and Mrs. I’hili/t Itradle\ IhdtnesA mirror lake, within an emerald grove, Reflecting dark, tall trees with branches low; The shadows cool and deep, to where below In quiet back-curve of a little cove. As in that strange behind-a-mirror place. The stems of lilies, with a flowing grace Find root and to the lucid surface grow. A roving cloud and bird reflected are; Nor can a storm this mirror break or mar. Each storm must pass. And all the tempest tossed Upon these liquid depths is quickly lost; The surface scarless, now reflects a star. A mirror mingling fantasy and scene, Beneath blue skies a woodland lake serene. JUL 5 1950 RUMFORD PRESS CONCORD. N. H. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context 4677Troubadour195007 Title A name given to the resource The New Hampshire Troubadour July 1950 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource New Hampshire State Planning and Development Commission Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1950-07 Description An account of the resource The New Hampshrie Troubadour was a monthly publication of the New Hampshire State Planning and Development Commission. The magazine was printed between 1931 and 1951. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 16-page booklet Language A language of the resource eng Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant New Hampshire, Fitzwilliam, Hampton Beach, Lyme, Amherst Provenance A statement of any changes in ownership and custody of the resource since its creation that are significant for its authenticity, integrity, and interpretation. The statement may include a description of any changes successive custodians made to the resource. New Hampshire State Library Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource No Copyright - United States Subject The topic of the resource Flume, lakes, food, Mt. Chocorua Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Amherst Fitzwilliam Flume food Hampton Beach lakes Lyme Mt. Chocorua New Hampshire