Excerpt from Lisbeth Wilson: A Daughter of New Hampshire Hills UP in northern New Hampshire, on a delightful April morning of the sweet old days, a rosy child, with spring time buoyancy in every motion, climbed over the stone steps of a wall close by a pair of bars, sprang with-a hop, skip, and jump across a road, by a garden, to the front door of a house, turned, and watched a flock of sheep which she had just fed with corn and beans. One red-mittened hand held a wooden measure carelessly by its brim. She was Dorothy Wilson, seven years old, daughter to Thomas Wilson and his wife Martha, who owned the dwelling and farm around it. Curling locks of brown hair showed under a quilted red hood. Her long, full cloak of black-and-white checked flannel was gathered into a yoke around the shoulders. It blew back, disclosing a wine-colored flan nel gown and blue linen tier. Pantalets like the dress touched the instep of her high leather bootees. The unpainted house behind her was built at a fork of roads, well back from each. It was large, double, substantial, and faced south. It was slightly lapped on its northern side by a low shed, which ran easterly nearly to one road. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.