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Adelia M. Hoyt memoir and photographs
Page 16
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16 UNFOLDING YEARS her lap and examined my hair and dress; I was wearing a blue and white muslin with ruffles and she said it was pretty. She told me about the little girls I would have to play with at school, of one Kitty who came by herself on the train passing through our town and this fall she was bringing another little girl with her. Miss Mattice brought with her a copy of the Psalms in raised letters which she left with me, and before September came I had read it through several times. Some years before this sister Mary's father-in-law had sold his large farm near us and moved to Illinois where he had purchased a large tract of land. He persuaded his oldest son, my brother-in-law Otis, to cast in his fortune with him. So it was that my sister Mary and her little girl moved to southern Illinois. Bad crops, storms and malaria ruined them financially, and almost physically. The father died and the family scattered. Mary and her little girl returned to us while her husband sought work elsewhere. Nettie was a dear little thing and I loved her -- and he had many good times together. Together we worked out puzzles and she read much to me. That summer, before I left for school, is rather hazy in my mind. I know extra dresses were made for me, and I was to take Emma's trunk as she was to teach that fall near home. I do not recall that I was very much excited. I had already decided in my own mind to be a writer and I had some sort of notion that I must learn what had already been written, hence an education was very necessary. On my last Sunday in Sunday School, my teacher told the class that I was going away to school where I would study music and maybe come back some day and play the organ. And so the summer slipped away and closed the first chapter in my life story. I did not know it then -- but when I left that fall I was never to return to the farm to live -- and only once to visit. In looking back now it seems as if I had very little childhood. So much of the time had been spent in bed and in the struggle for my very existence. I was rather old for my age and my thoughts were
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16 UNFOLDING YEARS her lap and examined my hair and dress; I was wearing a blue and white muslin with ruffles and she said it was pretty. She told me about the little girls I would have to play with at school, of one Kitty who came by herself on the train passing through our town and this fall she was bringing another little girl with her. Miss Mattice brought with her a copy of the Psalms in raised letters which she left with me, and before September came I had read it through several times. Some years before this sister Mary's father-in-law had sold his large farm near us and moved to Illinois where he had purchased a large tract of land. He persuaded his oldest son, my brother-in-law Otis, to cast in his fortune with him. So it was that my sister Mary and her little girl moved to southern Illinois. Bad crops, storms and malaria ruined them financially, and almost physically. The father died and the family scattered. Mary and her little girl returned to us while her husband sought work elsewhere. Nettie was a dear little thing and I loved her -- and he had many good times together. Together we worked out puzzles and she read much to me. That summer, before I left for school, is rather hazy in my mind. I know extra dresses were made for me, and I was to take Emma's trunk as she was to teach that fall near home. I do not recall that I was very much excited. I had already decided in my own mind to be a writer and I had some sort of notion that I must learn what had already been written, hence an education was very necessary. On my last Sunday in Sunday School, my teacher told the class that I was going away to school where I would study music and maybe come back some day and play the organ. And so the summer slipped away and closed the first chapter in my life story. I did not know it then -- but when I left that fall I was never to return to the farm to live -- and only once to visit. In looking back now it seems as if I had very little childhood. So much of the time had been spent in bed and in the struggle for my very existence. I was rather old for my age and my thoughts were
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