Ofttimes, in bitter winter weather, they passed little bare-foot children on their way to school, carrying their shoes in their cold hands, to put on, in a very elegant manner, at the school-house door; to _walk_ in them would have been _wilful extravagance_, though their toes were blue with cold! If, by chance, they found a cow lying down, chewing on her morning cud, they would disturb her rudely and make her get up, that they might put their bare feet on the spot she had so nicely warmed for her own comfort. But better and more prosperous times were coming, and it was not long before shoes were looked upon as a necessity for children, not an extravagance, though they were ever evil-smelling things--the leather being home-tanned and home-cured and needing much greasing at night to keep it soft enough to make the shoes wearable. They made an unseemly clumping on the floor, and were very ugly, but their aim being use, not beauty, this was no drawback. * * * * * Sometimes kind and gentle Mistress Hannah Wing rode the Morgan to a quilting bee, or meeting, or to such entertainments as ladies saw fit to attend. She was good to him and made his visits to their barn most pleasant. In the mornings she would come tripping out, her arms full of dew-wet clover or grass, just cut, or she would have a dish of goodies from the kitchen--some carrots or turnips. ’Twas no wonder the horse loved her and called to her, as she drew near, with his affectionate little neigh. He always hoped David might buy him from Hawkins; he loved the Wings and they returned his friendship. And a horse never knows when he may change owners. He can only hope his next one may be the one of his choosing, which does sometimes happen. The minds of the Vermonters in those days dwelt on higher things than fashions, especially with the men, and the wearing of beavers was not common, unless perhaps the hat was inherited. Hats were so much better made then, and so expensive, that a beaver lasted from thirty to forty years, and was passed on from father to son. In this way it had come to be looked on as frivolous and extravagant to be seen in a new one; if any man had the courage to buy such, he left it out in the weather a few nights to “_take that new look off_” before he wore it in public. At this time David Wing was town-clerk, and one day on his return from a trip to Boston, by stage, he brought home something in what was unmistakably a hatbox.