I remember working in oats in the middle side-hill lot one September
during the early years of the Civil War, when Hiram was talking
of enlisting as a drummer, and when Father and Mother were much
worried about it. I carried together the sheaves, putting fifteen
in a "shock."

I have heard my father tell of a curious incident that once befell
his hired man and himself when they were drawing in oats on a sled
from the first side-hill lot. They had on a load, and the hired man
had thrust his fork into the upper sides of it and was bringing his
weight to bear against its tendency to capsize. But gravity got the
better of them and over went the load; the hired man (Rueb Dart)
clung to his fork, and swung over the load through the air,
alighting on his feet none the worse for the adventure.

The spring that supplies the house and the dairy with water comes
from the middle side-hill lot, some forty or fifty rods from the
house, and is now brought down in pipes; in my time, in pump-logs.
It was always an event when the old logs had to be taken up and new
ones put down. I saw the logs renewed twice in my time; once poplar
logs were used, and once hemlock, both rather short-lived. A man
from a neighboring town used to come with his long auger and bore
the logs--a spectacle I was never tired of looking at.

Then the sap bush in the groin of the hill, and but a few minutes'
walk from the house, what a feature that was! In winter and in
summer, what delightful associations I have with it! I know each
of its great sugar maples as I know my friends or the members of
the family. Each has a character of its own, and in sap-producing
capacity they differ greatly. A fringe of the great trees stood out