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Adelia M. Hoyt memoir and photographs
Page 9
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Unfolding years new buggy. I can still feel the glow of childish pride with which i climbed in the new buggy, and we drove home. One of the team of grays, with which my father had started work on the farm, had died and Pete the remaining one now had a gentle mare Nellie for his companion. She becanme our buggy horse and I learned to harness her and put her into the shafts of the new buggy and bring her up to the house. The desire for a top buggy no doubt was stimulated the year before when we had some visitors. My father's aunt, Aunt Cornelia, a window of uncertain age, ahd married one Peleg Marsh, and they set out in a covered buggy drawn by a little gray horse named Pet to spend their honeymoon among their relatives. It was summer when they arrived and they decided to make a side trip, leaving the horse and buggy with us. You may be sure we used to occasion to take rides. I well recall one evening when Emma adn i took a long ride through back country roads, and as usual, i imagined i was the heroine in some story of adventure. I can still see one place on that country road with the woods on either side, and as we climbed a hill the head of our little horse was outlined against the evening sky. Aunt Cornelia and Uncle Peleg seemed acient to Emma and me, and their sentimental talk and actions furnished us with much amusement. One day in company with my father and mother they went some miles dostant to visit some old friends of the family. That day Emma became ambitious and decided to do the ironing. It included a shirt for Uncle Peleg with its starched and ruffled bosom. After laboring with it until her patience was exhausted, she suddenly rolled it up and opening the back door threw it into the dephs of the back yard. It struck me immensely funny, but it was no laughing matter to Emma so i did not dare laugh until i was out of sight when i gave way to my mirth; but at the same time my sympathies were all with her. Later i know she retrieved the shirt and no doubt my mother ironed it next day. Strange how such small events and senes are forever fixed in the memory. With such homely little events passed the first then years of my life. My sight was gradually falling,
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Unfolding years new buggy. I can still feel the glow of childish pride with which i climbed in the new buggy, and we drove home. One of the team of grays, with which my father had started work on the farm, had died and Pete the remaining one now had a gentle mare Nellie for his companion. She becanme our buggy horse and I learned to harness her and put her into the shafts of the new buggy and bring her up to the house. The desire for a top buggy no doubt was stimulated the year before when we had some visitors. My father's aunt, Aunt Cornelia, a window of uncertain age, ahd married one Peleg Marsh, and they set out in a covered buggy drawn by a little gray horse named Pet to spend their honeymoon among their relatives. It was summer when they arrived and they decided to make a side trip, leaving the horse and buggy with us. You may be sure we used to occasion to take rides. I well recall one evening when Emma adn i took a long ride through back country roads, and as usual, i imagined i was the heroine in some story of adventure. I can still see one place on that country road with the woods on either side, and as we climbed a hill the head of our little horse was outlined against the evening sky. Aunt Cornelia and Uncle Peleg seemed acient to Emma and me, and their sentimental talk and actions furnished us with much amusement. One day in company with my father and mother they went some miles dostant to visit some old friends of the family. That day Emma became ambitious and decided to do the ironing. It included a shirt for Uncle Peleg with its starched and ruffled bosom. After laboring with it until her patience was exhausted, she suddenly rolled it up and opening the back door threw it into the dephs of the back yard. It struck me immensely funny, but it was no laughing matter to Emma so i did not dare laugh until i was out of sight when i gave way to my mirth; but at the same time my sympathies were all with her. Later i know she retrieved the shirt and no doubt my mother ironed it next day. Strange how such small events and senes are forever fixed in the memory. With such homely little events passed the first then years of my life. My sight was gradually falling,
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