The NH Troubadour, January 1937

A Middle-Aged Convert to Skiing

by E.S. Anderson

The New Hampshire Ski Map came in a day or so ago, and I promptly put it in my desk—I didn’t dare look at it because I knew it would spoil the day for me.

This morning in comes the December Troubadour. Being somewhat of an idiot, I looked at it—and today sure is spoiled.

When I turned to page 1 and saw that letter to a fifty-two-year-old grandfather, whom the opening thought accused of being huddled over the steam pipes, my ire rose. However, after reading the article I felt better—Peggy evidently is trying to coax the old gentleman out.

I think the reason that my ire went up is because I am not a whale of a long way from the half century mark, and I don’t want to be accused of huddling over a steam pipe. I have just completed the purchase of an honest-to-gosh ski outfit, and I am going to be one of the old grandpops on skis for the first time this year.

The NH Troubadour, January 1951

Kearsarge In Winter

By Emma M. Patch

The wind blows thru rusty oboes on the northeast
wall of night,
And holds a haunted tempo for the screaming
snow in flight.
A thousand icy legions march on its mighty
shouldered side,
Where a thousand million winters have ground,
and growled and died.

The NH Troubadour, February 1932

He Used His Own Judgment

John Hay, Roosevelt’s Secretary of State, had a summer place at Sunapee. He went there during the Russo-Japanese Peace Conference and left word with the ticket and freight agent, baggage man, and telegraph operator (for matters of economy and convenience these offices were merged in one man) that all telegrams be sent up to his house immediately.
Three days passed without any messages having come to him, and, becoming nervous, Mr. Hay drove down to the station to inquire whether some messages hadn’t come in. Thereupon the general factotum answered yes, that several had arrived but they didn’t make any sense so he hadn’t bothered to write them down or send any word about them.
The messages were all from the Department of State and, naturally, were in code.

The NH Troubadour, February 1941

Indian Pudding

by Belinda Moulton Blaisdell (born 1836, Meredith Bridge, NH)

Scald one quart of milk, stir in one-half cup of meal, one cup of molasses, one-half cup of sugar, one quart of cold milk, two eggs, little salt, one tablespoon butter and one-half cup of raisins. Bake four hours in moderate oven.