when it was dry, tied down the ends, and put the other end onto the
standard of the wheel. Then they would commence and wind on the flax. A
hand of flax would fill it. I used to be a pretty good hand to spin tow
on a big wheel, but I never could spin linen very even. Old Aunt Joanna
used to spin linen thread; and Mother Wetherell used to buy great skeins
of her. She said it was cheaper to buy than to spend so much time
spinning."

Mrs. Wetherell told me that I should go up in the garret and see the
wheels and all the old machinery used so long ago.

That evening I asked Mr. Wetherell: "Has there ever been a field beyond
the pines?"

"Yes," he said: "Father cleared that piece nigh onto eighty year ago. We
always called it 'the field back of the pines.' When father got old, and
I kinder took the lead, I said we better turn that field out into the
paster. He felt bad about it at first, but when I told him how much work
it was to haul the manure over there, and the crops back, he gave in.
Them Norrerway pines are marster old; I s'pose they'd stood there a
hundred and fifty year."

I felt a thrill of pity for the old man, now at rest. He must have been
nearly at the base of life's western slope, when he rescued those few
acres from the forest. The little field was his pride, I think it ought
to have been left, while he lived.

One morning when Lucy, as Mrs. Wetherell called her, was washing at the
farm, she said to me: "Did you ever have your fortin told?" I answered,
"No."