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Updated: May 1, 2025
One August evening found Cynthia thus beside a poplar in front of Amos Cuthbert's farmhouse, a poplar that shimmered green-gold in the late afternoon, and from the buggy-seat Cynthia looked down upon a thousand purple hilltops and mountain peaks of another state.
We use to load up the whole bunch and go hunting closing up the stores and taking the girls along and did not show up till midnight. Samp would always have a little something to take under his buggy-seat, and we would wet up and sing coming home, with the beds of the spring-wagons so full of prairie chickens and quail that they jolted out at every rut.
One August evening found Cynthia thus beside a poplar in front of Amos Cuthbert's farmhouse, a poplar that shimmered green-gold in the late afternoon, and from the buggy-seat Cynthia looked down upon a thousand purple hilltops and mountain peaks of another state.
He got down and rang the bell, and waited till the door opened; then he came back and lifted his wife out. "He's in," he said. He got the hitching-weight from under the buggy-seat and made it fast to the mare's bit. "Do you think she'll stand with that?" asked Mrs. Lapham. "I guess so. If she don't, no matter." "Ain't you afraid she'll take cold," she persisted, trying to make delay.
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