Some of our pastimes, evenings, were to sit together by the fireplace in Mr. Griffin's home with him as the leader in the story-telling. We would recount incidents in our lives and then make up stories and tell them; roast potatoes in the fire, rake them out with a stick when about half done and each would have a part of the refreshments of half roasted potatoes and salt. Mr. Griffin sent and got what he called a seraphine--a small cabinet organ; it opened up like a piano and was a wonder around there. At about eleven o'clock, when we were all in bed, he would go in where it was kept, open up the organ and give us some music. His favorite hymn was set to the tune of "Balerma," and the words were, "Oh, for a closer walk with God," and he would sing such songs until after midnight. In the morning he never did any work on the place. He had a saddle horse and he rode around. Mrs. Griffin and the children had to do everything. He didn't even plant the potatoes. All the new potatoes we had grew among the old potatoes that were dug and stored for the winter and I used to help Mrs. Griffin get the new potatoes out from among the old ones. I helped her to churn and in many other ways. She thought I was a pretty good girl. Mr. Griffin was very fond of entertaining their company with music. There was a man named Laughlin who once came to spend the night when it was raining. We were sitting by the fireplace. The fire did not burn very well and Mrs. Griffin came in with a little hand bellows and blew up the fire. The old man saw her coming and fancied it must be a dangerous instrument of some kind. It frightened him and he got up and made for the door. He finally saw what it was and came back and sat down. Then Mr. Griffin sat down by his organ and began playing it. That frightened the old gentleman again and in his fright he overturned his chair and got out of the door. He could not understand what was happening. So we had our fun with the organ, Mr. Laughlin and the little bellows. Mr. Griffin liked to give advice to the young. My chum, Maria Tanner, and I were frequently given the benefit of his wisdom, but child-fashion, did not care to be "preached at." We would see him coming and would start to evade him. Sometimes we would dodge around the house, but finally he got on to our trick and would meet us and corner us and give us whole lot of advice. He thought it dreadful for young girls to be as frivolous as we were; for he called it frivolous because we went down to the woods and sang songs and laughed. That was one of my sins--to laugh. We would often lie in bed singing and laughing and Mr. Eells would call up for us to be quiet. We would be still until we thought the old man had settled down and then we would start in again. Children were not supposed to be in evidence at all in those days, and I sometimes got double doses of advice and correction. But my school days ended--when I was thirteen.