Page:New Hampshire (Frost, 1923).djvu/21

Rh One of my children ranging after rocks Lately brought home from Andover or Canaan A specimen of beryl with a trace Of radium. I know with radium The trace would have to be the merest trace To be below the threshold of commercial, But trust New Hampshire not to have enough Of radium or anything to sell.

A specimen of everything, I said. She has one witch—old style. She lives in Colebrook. (The only other witch I ever met Was lately at a cut-glass dinner in Boston. There were four candles and four people present. The witch was young, and beautiful (new style), And open-minded. She was free to question Her gift for reading letters locked in boxes. Why was it so much greater when the boxes Were metal than it was when they were wooden? It made the world seem so mysterious. The S'ciety for Psychical Research Was cognizant. Her husband was worth millions. I think he owned some shares in Harvard College.)

New Hampshire used to have at Salem A company we called the White Corpuscles, Whose duty was at any hour of night To rush in sheets and fool's caps where they smelled A thing the least bit doubtfully perscented And give someone the Skipper Ireson's Ride. One each of everything as in a show-case.