Excerpt from Short Stories, 1892, Vol. 11: A Magazine of Select Fiction I just wish't my name wasn't Rachel and that I didn't have to pick up potatoes! The wail came from a mite of a girl away up in New Hampshire, on a farm so hard and rough, and so covered with stones, that it has been said of its pastures, the sheep had to have their noses sharpened before they could get at the grass! The scene wasn't an inviting one, the day was chill and gray, and the dead leaves lying upon the ground were of a dingy brown. The little barefooted, poorly clad child moaned and shiv ered afresh every time she deposited a handful of tubers in the big basket. 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.