atmosphere and association of its own. The long, smooth, broad
hill--a sort of thigh of the mountain (Old Clump) upon the lower
edge of which the house is planted--shut off the west and southwest
winds; its fields were all amenable to the plough, yielding good
crops of oats, rye, buckwheat, potatoes, or, when in grass, yielding
good pasture, divided east and west by parallel stone walls; this
hill, or lower slope of the mountain, was one of the principal
features of the farm. It was steep, but it was smooth; it was
broad-backed and fertile; its soil was made up mainly of decomposed
old red sandstone. How many times have I seen its different
sections grow ruddy under the side-hill plough! One of my earliest
recollections of my father is seeing him, when I was a child of
three or four, striding across the middle side-hill lot with a bag
slung across his breast, scattering the seed-grain.

How often at early nightfall, while the west was yet glowing, have I
seen the grazing cattle silhouetted against the sky. In the winter
the northwest winds would sweep the snow clean from the other side,
and bring it over to our side and leave it in a long, huge drift
that buried the fences and gave the hill an extra full-breasted
appearance. The breast of the old hill would be padded with ten or
fifteen feet of snow. This drift would often last till May. I have
seen it stop the plough. I remember once carrying a jug of water up
to Brother Curtis when his plough was within a few feet of the snow.
Woodchucks would sometimes feel the spring through this thick
coverlid of snow and bore up through it to the sunlight. I think
the woodchuck's alarm clock always goes off before April is done,
and he comes forth, apparently not to break his long fast, but to
find his mate.