anging behind my mother's broad back. She wore an
immense bonnet flaring wide in front and big bowed silver spectacles. I
had on a small tightly-fitting bright yellow cap tied under my chin with
blue ribbon. It was not a long journey from Bellingham to Medway, but it
was the first I had ever taken, and it seemed to me it would never end.
I was much subdued and even frightened on the way. It was all so strange
and perplexing to me this marriage of my mother to a strange man, giving
up my childhood home and going to another of which I knew nothing.
Little did I imagine the destiny that awaited me there.

"At last we turned into a long lane and came to a large rambling farm
house with barns all about it. A young man came to the doorstep to meet
us. I was not in the habit of taking much notice of boys and young men,
but I could not help seeing that he was a handsome youth, tall, fair
haired and blue eyed. He helped my mother to dismount, and then lifted
me in his arms from the pillion. That young man, my son, was your
father, and I have heard him say he that moment fell in love with the
little girl in the red cloak. He seemed never so much pleased as when
winter came round and I began to wear it again. He waited and served ten
years for me, and when I was twenty and he thirty we were married. We
went back to Bellingham to be married by my mother's minister, an old
friend. We went on horseback, I on a pillion behind your father just as
I had left the town and wearing still my red cloak, but almost for the
last time, for it was thought no longer suitable for a married woman. It
was hung away in a closet; your father would not have it made over into
any other kind of a garment, as was the thrifty custom of all
households, although I much wanted to make it into a petticoat. Your
father prized it more than any of my newer clothes, and it hung in the
closet for many a year. Sometimes in the long winter evenings when we
would be talking of old times and the ten tedious years of his waiting,
he would make me take out the cloak and parade around the room. It
seemed to make him happy and more affectionate."

MY UNCLE LYMAN

As I shall often allude to my Uncle Lyman in these pages, I will sketch
as much of his character and his ways as I can now recall, and that may
interest the reader. He was a farmer of the old style and I love to
remember him. To hear of great men and great events is stimulating, as
even the sound of fire