There were three temptingly great barns, scattered between the house premises and the interval. Was there ever a better opportunity for hide-and-seek, for climbing and jumping? It would have been no athlete at all that couldn’t jump from the great beams to the hay, in scant summer time before the new hay came in, and land on the feet safely. There was, and still is, directly in front of the house, a small, circular, natural pond, fed by springs in the bottom and surrounded by a cordon of hills forming a basin in which the little pond basks and sleeps through the summer, but in winter becomes a thing of beauty and a joy forever to the skater. From its sheltered position it freezes smooth, even, and glare, and has no danger spots. I dwell upon this description, for that little pond was my early love; the home of my beautiful flock of graceful ducks. The boys were all fine skaters; I wanted to skate, too, but skating had not then become customary, in fact, not even allowable for girls; and when, one day, my father saw me sitting on the ice attempting to put on a pair of skates, he seemed shocked, recommended me to the house, and said something about “tomboys.” But this did not cure my desire; nor could I understand why it was not as well for me to skate as for the boys; I was as strong, could run as fast and ride better, indeed they would not have presumed to approach me with a horse. Neither could the boys understand it, and this misconception led them into an error and me into trouble.