ll off
under the united care of my aunts that I spent a fair part of my life in
the country.

My father was a descendant of Robert Murdock (of Roxbury), who left
Scotland in 1688, and whose descendants settled in Newton. My father's
branch removed to Winchendon, home of tubs and pails. My grandfather
(Abel) moved to Leominster and later settled in Worcester, where he
died when I was a small boy. My father's mother was a Moore, also of
Scotch ancestry. She died young, and on my father's side there was no
family home to visit.

My mother's father was Deacon Charles Hills, descended from Joseph
Hills, who came from England in 1634.

Nearly every New England town was devoted to some special industry, and
Leominster was given to the manufacture of horn combs. The industry was
established by a Hills ancestor, and when I was born four Hills brothers
were co-operative comb-makers, carrying on the business in connection
with small farming. The proprietors were the employees. If others were
required, they could be readily secured at the going wages of one dollar
a day.

My grandfather was the oldest of the brothers. When he married Betsy
Buss his father set aside for him twenty acres of the home farm, and
here he built the house in which he lived for forty years, raising a
family of ten children.

I remember quite clearly my great-grandfather Silas Hills. He was old
and querulous, and could certainly scold; but now that I know that he
was born in 1760, and had nineteen brothers and sisters, I think of him
with compassion and wonder. It connects me with the distant past to
think I remember a man who was sixteen years old when the Declaration
of Independence was signed. He died at ninety-five, which induces
apprehension.

My grandfather's house faced the country road that ran north over the
rolling hills among the stone-walled farms, and was about a mile from
the common that marked the center of the town. It was white, of course,
with green blinds. The garden in front was fragrant from Castilian
roses, Sweet Williams, and pinks. There were lilacs and a barberry-bush.
A spacious hall bisected the house. The south front room was sacred to
funerals and weddings; we seldom entered it. Back of that was grandma's
room. Stairs in the hall led to two sleeping-rooms above. The north
front room was "the parlor," but seldom used. There on the center-table
reposed Baxter's "Saints' Rest" and Young's "Night Thoughts." The
fireplace flu