sparrow as we plodded back and forth across
the field.

Frank cared little for books but he could take a hand at games although
he was not strong. Burton who at sixteen was almost as tall as his
father was the last to surrender his saddle to the ash-bin. He often
rode his high-headed horse past our house on his way to town, and I
especially recall one day, when as Frank and I were walking to town (one
fourth of July) Burt came galloping along with five dollars in his
pocket.--We could not see the five dollars but we did get the full force
and dignity of his cavalier approach, and his word was sufficient proof
of the cash he had to spend. As he rode on we, in crushed humility,
resumed our silent plodding in the dust of his horse's hooves.

His round of labor, like my own, was well established. In spring he
drove team and drag. In haying he served as stacker. In harvest he bound
his station. In stacking he pitched bundles. After stacking he plowed or
went out "changing works" and ended the season's work by husking corn--a
job that increased in severity from year to year, as the fields grew
larger. In '74 it lasted well into November. Beginning in the warm and
golden September we kept at it (off and on) until sleety rains coated
the ears with ice and the wet soil loaded our boots with huge balls of
clay and grass--till the snow came whirling by on the wings of the north
wind and the last flock of belated geese went sprawling sidewise down
the ragged sky. Grim business this! At times our wet gloves froze on our
hands.

How primitive all our notions were! Few of the boys owned overcoats and
the same suit served each of us for summer and winter alike. In lieu of
ulsters most of us wore long, gay-colored woolen scarfs wound about our
heads and necks--scarfs which our mothers, sisters or sweethearts had
knitted for us. Our footwear continued to be boots of the tall cavalry
model with pointed toes and high heels. Our collars were either
home-made ginghams or "boughten" ones of paper at fifteen cents per box.
Some men went so far as to wear "dickies," that is to say, false shirt
fronts made of paper, but this was considered a silly cheat. No one in
our neighborhood ever saw a tailor-made suit, and nothing that we wore
fitted,--our clothes merely enclosed us.

Harriet, like the other women, made her own dresses, assisted by my
mother, and her best gowns in summer were white muslin tied at the waist
with ribbons. All the girls