s, and a bitter wind, raw and gusty, swept out of the
northwest, bearing gray veils of sleet. Winter had come! Work in the
furrow had ended. The plow was brought in, cleaned and greased to
prevent its rusting, and while the horses munched their hay in
well-earned holiday, father and I helped farmer Button husk the last of
his corn.

Osman Button, a quaint and interesting man of middle age, was a native
of York State and retained many of the traditions of his old home
strangely blent with a store of vivid memories of Colorado, Utah and
California, for he had been one of the gold-seekers of the early
fifties. He loved to spin yarns of "When I was in gold camps," and he
spun them well. He was short and bent and spoke in a low voice with a
curious nervous sniff, but his diction was notably precise and clear. He
was a man of judgment, and a citizen of weight and influence. From O.
Button I got my first definite notion of Bret Harte's country, and of
the long journey which they of the ox team had made in search of
Eldorado.

His family "mostly boys and girls" was large, yet they all lived in a
low limestone house which he had built (he said) to serve as a granary
till he should find time to erect a suitable dwelling. In order to make
the point dramatic, I will say that he was still living in the "granary"
when last I called on him thirty years later!

A warm friendship sprang up between him and my father, and he was often
at our house but his gaunt and silent wife seldom accompanied him. She
was kindly and hospitable, but a great sufferer. She never laughed, and
seldom smiled, and so remains a pathetic figure in all my memories of
the household.

The younger Button children, Eva and Cyrus, became our companions in
certain of our activities, but as they were both very sedate and slow of
motion, they seldom joined us in our livelier sports. They were both
much older than their years. Cyrus at this time was almost as venerable
as his father, although his years were, I suppose, about seventeen.
Albert and Lavinia, we heard, were much given to dancing and parties.

One night as we were all seated around the kerosene lamp my father said,
"Well, Belle, I suppose we'll have to take these young ones down to town
and fit 'em out for school." These words so calmly uttered filled our
minds with visions of new boots, new caps and new books, and though we
went obediently to bed we hardly slept, so excited were we, and at
breakfast ne