ot to look under the
hickory-trees for the oak acorns that I adored. I was soon able to tell
the rapidly forming furry green peaches from the smooth young apples, and
I literally fell down upon my knees and worshipped before lambs, calves,
and colts.

In this new, strange life everyone worked, but they worked for
themselves--to use a country expression, no one "hired out." I was a very
little girl. I could not spin as could my mother, who had passed her
childhood in backwood life. Of course I could not weave, but I was taught
to knit my own stockings--such humpy, lumpy knitting! But I was very
proud of the accomplishment, even though my mother did have to "turn the
heel." Then, too, I with other children at planting-time dropped corn in
the sun-warmed furrows, while a man followed behind with a hoe covering
it up; and when it had sprouted and was a tempting morsel for certain
black robbers of the field, I made a very active and energetic young
scare-crow.

Here, too, I became acquainted with children. They were all older than I
was, a hearty, healthy, wisely-ignorant lot. They knew so much about
farming and so little about anything else. Not one of them could tell a
story out of the Bible, and as for the "Pilgrim's Progress," they had
never heard tell of it; while Bunyan only meant to them an enlarged
toe-joint--not a great author.

The lack of reading matter was the one blemish on my country life. The
library, composed of the Bible and the almanac, was not satisfying to my
inquiring mind. One paper was taken in by the head of the family--it was
a weekly, in every possible sense--but I came to watch eagerly for it,
and it filled the family with amazement to see me sit down on the step
and gravely wade through its dreary columns--happy if I could catch hold
of some idea--some bit of news--some scrap of story; and my farmer host
one day at his noon smoke removed his corn-cob pipe from his lips long
enough to remark of me: "Dogorne my skin! if that young 'un ain't awake
and enj'ien hersel'. Now I allers go ter sleep over that paper mysel'!"
So should I--now--I presume.

These children being for-true, real children had no idea of showing
courtesy or politeness to a stranger, but they had a very natural
yearning to get fun out of that stranger if they could, and so they
blithely led me forth to a pasture shortly after our arrival at the farm,
and catching a horse they hoisted me up on to its bare, slippery back. I
have