Such a fruitful winter
was that of '74-5, when the ice formed twenty inches thick. The stacks
are given only a temporary covering of boards, and are the first ice
removed in the season. The cutting and gathering of the ice enlivens
these broad, white, desolate fields amazingly. My house happens to
stand where I look down upon the busy scene, as from a hill-top upon
a river meadow in haying time, only here figures stand out much
more sharply than they do from a summer meadow. There is the broad,
straight, blue-black canal emerging into view, and running nearly
across the river; this is the highway that lays open the farm. On
either side lie the fields, or ice meadows, each marked out by cedar
or hemlock boughs. The farther one is cut first, and when cleared,
shows a large, long, black parallelogram in the midst of the plain
of snow. Then the next one is cut, leaving a strip or tongue of ice
between the two for the horses to move and turn upon. Sometimes nearly
two hundred men and boys, with numerous horses, are at work at once,
marking, plowing, planing, scraping, sawing, hauling, chiseling; some
floating down the pond on great square islands towed by a horse, or
their fellow workmen; others distributed along the canal, bending to
their ice-hooks; others upon the bridges separating the blocks with
their chisel bars; others feeding the elevators; while knots and
straggling lines of idlers here and there look on in cold discontent,
unable to get a job.
Pages:
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316