but clear instance
of what is called
cultural assimilation and
in any case,
all honor to Mr. Charley Grimes
in sight and every-
where the changing
lights and darks of
the truth -- the
about the peaks,
fear in their
admiration of them,
with its beauty
we wore rubber boots to school
which we took off in the schoolroom
and put on moccasins made of buckskin.
One time we found an Indian mummy
tied in a tree. We brought it to the schoolhouse
but our teacher, Mr. Charley Grimes,
made us put it back in the tree.
The summer of 1881, I remember,
we had good weather; beautiful days.
Then the fall and winter of that year
was long and cold. The snow was very deep.
Sometimes the wind blew all day from the
and we also knew what they could do.
There was no tallow for candles.
None to be had. We lived by the light
the pitch wood made in the fi replace.
The evenings were so long and lonesome.
My brother George begged father
to play the fi ddle all the time.
If father stopped to rest, the next thing
would be, `Pa, I want to dance.'
We both danced to father's music.
... well, he put us to work,
me to skinning mules,
Duncan to a-whacking bulls,
and Smith to cooking.
We had to travel slow,
because they was bull teams, mule teams,
and horses, and all of us to go, you know.