should have explained to me before. Then she twisted and broke off a long sapling branch, and struck me. Naturally I started to run, she called to me to stop, and I did. She struck me again, saying, "I will teach you not to stay when I send you anywhere." I told her I was waiting for the turkey hen to come off her nest. Then she answered me by saying, "You little fool, you might have known she wouldn't come off her nest as long as she could see you." The truth was-I did not know. All the way home she would strike me with that sapling, every time she could reach me. When I would start to run, she would call to me to stop, and hit me over the shoulders many times. And those hits made a very bad bruise on one of my shoulders that made me suffer for a long time. The next day she brought home the turkey eggs, and I heard her say to Mr. Hill, "I've a mind to set all the turkey hens down in the clearing. If I break up their nests they will go somewhere else." And she did set all the turkey hens down in the clearing.

Later a lot of little turkeys were hatched. Most every day I would be sent to feed them, with skimmed milk and curd-cheese. Something caught and killed one of the turkey hens and all but five of the little ones. These five were brought home and given to me to raise. I cared for them, as hand care goes, and I loved those little motherless things. They would begin their funny chatter very early in the evening. I knew they were telling me, "We want to go to bed."

As I write, I am reminded of an incident of these little turkeys which made me laugh, and I laugh now as I write. It was in the sixties, although I cannot recall just what year, but it was the year of the total eclipse of the sun. It began to get dark about two o'clock in the afternoon, and these little turkeys thought it was time to go to bed. They began to chatter their little sleepy song until I put them to bed. The eclipse lasted about one hour, then the sun came out just as bright as ever. Then I let the little

turkeys out from their beds, and they acted as if they were saying, "why, this is so unusual."

When they were grown, they too wandered off into the same clearing, just like their mothers had done. When I would go to bring home the turkey eggs, I would always see a reminder of the sapling that I rode upon for a horse, and think of the sapling from which I tried so hard to escape.

THE CHERRIES

Cherries had commenced to ripen on the ten trees which were in a row between the house and barn. Mrs. Hill, whom I called Mother, had said to me, "Ellen Gray, you are not to take one cherry, for I want them all to put up air tight. We are not going to get much fruit this year, I'm afraid."

I do not believe I would have ventured to have taken one cherry, if circumstances had been different. On the following Sabbath afternoon a neighbor woman and two daughters called at our home. The two women were busy talking, and we, as all children, wanted to have a good time, so out we went. By and by the younger of the two girls discovered that some of the cherries were ripening, and she said, "Let's get some." And I said, with great emphasis in my voice, "Mother doesn't allow me to." The elder girl said, "Oh, they are quite too busy talking to think about us, or cherries either." At that moment they both ran to the trees.

It was an easy matter to step off the "high board" fence into a tree. By the time they were enjoying the delicious fruit, I was beside the tree looking up at them. I did not climb into the tree, and I only ate whatever the girls saw fit to throw down to me. It was with fear and trembling that I went to the house. By Mother's look I believed she knew about the tasting of the cherries.

The Mother and girls barely reached the outside of the yard when with a look that made me shudder, she said, "Oh, but I'll make you suffer tomorrow for going and taking those girls and eating the cherries. I told you not to eat or pull one of them." It was in the humblest manner I told her the truth about it, but she only gave me black looks. Then she said, "Don't sin more by telling me a lie. What does God think about you? I'll not whip you today,

this is the Sabbath Day, but tomorrow I'll make you remember this. I'm sorry I took you to raise, you are more bother than help." By this time I was crying, and she said, "Shut up your crying and go gather the eggs, you little torment." At that I left the house. When I got to the barn, I dropped down on my knees and cried and sobbed, and I wished for a Mother that was kind and would not whip me so. I gathered the eggs and went back to the house. I did not sit down to the supper table, but went upstairs to bed, and oh, such a night it was for me. I could not keep from thinking of the whipping I knew I was sure to receive on the morrow. The night of suspense was worse than the whipping.

In the morning when she called to me, "Ellen get up," I was awake and dressed. I went downstairs, and out into the kitchen, she then said, "eat your breakfast." When I arose from the breakfast table, I saw her take from off the kitchen mantel a big switch, and saying, “You know I told you I would whip you about the cherries". It seemed the first blow renewed her wrath, for when she did quit my little body was in welts which remained for several days.

But this unjust whipping was only one of the many I received during my stay with this family.