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Each member of the Council made at least one contribution to the paper; but the burden fell on the Editor's shoulders.
She worked day and night; no wonder that the pages of the Journal are blank.
Beside the editorials and many other unsigned articles, she wrote a serial story, “The Journal of a fancy Fair,” which brings back vividly the scene it describes.
In those days the raffle was not discredited.
Few people realized that it was a crude form of gambling; clergy and laity alike raffled merrily.
Our mother, however, in her story speaks through the lips of her hero a pungent word on the subject:--
“The raffle business is, I suppose, the great humbug of occasions of this kind.
It seems to me very much like taking a front tooth from a certain number of persons in order to make up a set of teeth for a party who wants it and who does not want to pay for it.”
We should like to linger over the pages of the “Boatswain's Whistle” ; to quote from James Freeman Clarke's witty dialogues, Edward Everett's stately periods, Dr. Holmes's sparkling verse; to describe General Grant, the prize ox, white as driven snow and weighing 3900 pounds, presented by the owner to President Lincoln and by him to the fair.
Did we not see him drawn in triumph through Boston streets on an open car, and realize in an instant-fresh from our “Wonder-book” --what Europa's bull looked like?
But of all the treasures of the little paper.
we must content ourselves with this dispatch:--
Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston and New York. 1916.
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