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I remember nothing about the feed the cattle had in 

 those days, but I know now that the children had good 

 food for mind and body. We first located the different 

 herds of cattle by the sound of the bells; then came 

 that " knowledge never learned in books." The birds, 

 the squirrels, the wild flowers, the berries, the little 

 marshes with their wonders, the wild grapes, the nuts 

 — and oh, yes, while there were no chiggers in those 

 days, we had snakes and mosquitoes, and now and then 

 a wolf, the fear of which only added to the charm. We 

 found all those wonderful, mysterious things nature has 

 provided so bountifully for the country boys and girls, 

 the memory of which comes after many years to the 

 busy man or woman like a happy, restful dream. 



Then the milking of the cows. If there was a hired 

 man on the place who objected to milking, or dried up 

 the cows or whacked them with the milking stool — 

 memory has kindly and generously dropped him out. 

 The milk was carried in wooden buckets to a stone 

 spring house at the foot of the hill, strained into crocks 

 and shallow pans — these set in pure, clear, cold water. 

 Here my mother skimmed the milk, did the churning, 

 washing and working the butter with her hands, and 

 how the children loved to watch her make it into rolls. 

 I know mother's spring house butter was not made 

 according to Hoard, but there is a quiet suspicion in 

 my mind that if that butter was placed upon the mar- 

 ket to-day it would rank with the best Elgin with all 

 the modern improvements. Surely no milk is so good 

 or cream so sweet or butter so delicious now. 



My mother long since discarded the spring house at 

 the foot of the hill for several very good reasons; it 

 was twenty rods from the cow yard and the milk had 

 to be carried back in those same heavy wooden buckets 



