[This letter is the text of an old newspaper that was kindly sent to us by a reader named James Ayers. This is another edition of the Mountaineer column from the Catskill Mountain News on January 21, 1949.]

Movies, automobiles, the radio let us fritter away our time and bring unrest and whirlpool currents of the mind that drive serenity away. Who shall not say that the old-time practice of whittling sans the attractions mention might bring back some of the serenity.

A few men yet nurture the art but in a great measure whittling has joined the buffalo robes, bustles, high laced boots, iron gem pans. Only those who are able to recall pre auto days appreciate the extent to which life has increased its tempo.

There are two kinds of whittling. On a warm January day is good to putter along in the farm shop at purposeful whittling. A man's jack knife is a prized possession. It is reckoned somewhere along with his favorite axe and pitchfork. Father needed to have a supply of teeth whittled for the hand rakes. It was also a good time to whittle angled holders for apple picking baskets, a new head for the buckwheat flail and oak sticks for harness pegs. One could spend peaceful nerve soothing hours working on an axe helve.

But there was another and equally important whittling. True whittlers cherish the opportunity to sit and whittle just for the fun of the thing. In sunny day it is comfortable to tip back in an open barn door after dinner and whittle for the sake of whittling.

Shep lies with his nose in his forepaws. The cows rattle the stanchions, the horses stamp and sneeze as they chew good timothy hay. Hens scratch and sing in the chaff and a long string of smoke revels in the air above the farm house chimney.

It is good to see slender, thin shavings curl away from the stick and to smell the pungent fragrance of wood, barn and yard. One can study the grains of the wood or pause and look across the fields to the distant mountains.

He has a feeling of peace with the world. I am certain whittlers are men of sound qualities. They are philosophers with a foundation of tolerance and standing. I smile as I recall the days and wish there were a law to compel all lawmakers, statesmen and big business men to spend an hour whittling after each midday meal.

Yours truly,

The Mountaineer

James Ayers

Kerhonkson