CHAPTER V.

THE POOR-HOUSE.


How long and tiresome that ride was with no one for a companion except
Mr. Knight, who, though a kind-hearted man knew nothing about making
himself agreeable to little girls, so he remained perfectly taciturn,
whipping at every cow or pig which he passed, and occasionally
screaming to his horse, "Git up, old Charlotte. What are you 'bout?"

Mary, who had seldom been out of the village, and who knew but little
of the surrounding country, for a time enjoyed looking about her very
much. First they went down the long hill which leads from the village
to the depot. Then they crossed the winding Chicopee river, and Mary
thought how much she should love to play in that bright green meadow
and gather the flowers which grew so near to the water's edge. The
causeway was next crossed, and turning to the right they came upon a
road where Mary had never been before, and which grew more rough and
stony as they advanced.

On the top of a steep hill Mary looked back to see if Chicopee were
yet, visible, but nothing was to be seen except the spire of the
Unitarian Meeting-House. About a quarter of a mile to the west,
however, the graveyard was plainly discernible, and she looked until
her eyes were dim with tears at the spot where she knew her parents