WHAT has become of the old-fashioned winter? We would like to know the
feelings of that self-exiled band who fled the wholesome prairies of
Canada last fall, as they open up their home papers on some Californian
strand and read of the ice famine in Iceland; of the hens laying and
the dandelions sprouting in Canada, in December; of outdoor swimming at
Vancouver; of spring-like mornings in Manitoba, with birds singing and
school boys laying off overcoats at play.