Circular shadows, photographs of the sun, frolicked with each
other in the roadway as gentle breezes swayed the overhanging boughs.
Milk wagons with noisy cans were returning home, herds of black and white
Holstein-Friesian cattle, famous for their yield of milk, were cropping
sweet grasses in the pastures. Farmers were guiding their cultivators and
mowing machines, while wives and daughters were shelling June peas,
hulling strawberries, and preparing for dinner. The large white houses,
with roomy barns in the shade of big elms, were the happy homes of
freemen. Gertrude wanted the horses to walk more, but George was
unwilling to take the dust of wagons returning from the market, so
he kept the horses moving at a brisk pace.
At length the Hockanum Ferry with its odd device was reached. George got
out and led the horses into the middle of the small river craft. Then the
boat was pushed off and a strong man and boy pulled at the wire rope. The
ferryman's shanty, the willows, and tangled driftwood on the shore, fast
receded, and soon the middle of the Connecticut River was reached, where
the current is swiftest. In sight were several canoes with light sails,
scudding before the wind.
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