hey were too tired and too
worried to re-act to the beauties of the landscape.

I now began to dimly perceive that my mother was not well. Although
large and seemingly strong, her increasing weight made her long days of
housework a torture. She grew very tired and her sweet face was often
knotted with physical pain.

She still made most of our garments as well as her own. She tailored
father's shirts and underclothing, sewed carpet rags, pieced quilts and
made butter for market,--and yet, in the midst of it all, found time to
put covers on our baseball, and to do up all our burns and bruises.
Being a farmer's wife in those days, meant laboring outside any
regulation of the hours of toil. I recall hearing one of the tired
house-wives say, "Seems like I never get a day off, not even on Sunday,"
a protest which my mother thoroughly understood and sympathized with,
notwithstanding its seeming inhospitality.

No history of this time would be complete without a reference to the
doctor. We were a vigorous and on the whole a healthy tribe but
accidents sometimes happened and "Go for the doctor!" was the first
command when the band-cutter slashed the hand of the thresher or one of
the children fell from the hay-rick.

One night as I lay buried in deep sleep close to the garret eaves I
heard my mother call me--and something in her voice pierced me, roused
me. A poignant note of alarm was in it.

"Hamlin," she called, "get up--at once. You must go for the doctor. Your
father is very sick. _Hurry!_"

I sprang from my bed, dizzy with sleep, yet understanding her appeal. "I
hear you, I'm coming," I called down to her as I started to dress.

"Call Hattie. I need her too."

The rain was pattering on the roof, and as I dressed I had a disturbing
vision of the long cold ride which lay before me. I hoped the case was
not so bad as mother thought. With limbs still numb and weak I stumbled
down the stairs to the sitting room where a faint light shone.

Mother met me with white, strained face. "Your father is suffering
terribly. Go for the doctor at once."

I could hear the sufferer groan even as I moved about the kitchen,
putting on my coat and lighting the lantern. It was about one o'clock of
the morning, and the wind was cold as I picked my way through the mud to
the barn. The thought of the long miles to town made me shiver but as
the son of a soldier I could not falter in my duty.

In their warm stalls the horses were resti