Noltes and to eat from the bird feeders. I
am sure they were not appreciated,
but the Noltes were very polite and never complained.
And speaking of our animals, my cousin Mary Sears at a young age,
overheard a conversation about the Dickson dogs not being well-mannered.
"Well," sighed Mary, "They don't see very good manners."
My father commuted to Boston by train. The station was a
good twenty minutes from our house by horse and carriage, and
no other commuter lived so far away from it; but he enjoyed the country
and liked Weston and felt rewarded for the extra effort.
At the age of six I began my academic career at Pigeon Hill School,
just beyond Weston Station. For my first two years I got there by horse
and carriage in the spring and fall and by sleigh in winter. By my third
year the automobile had become more utilitarian and Eddie Green, our
chauffeur, drove us as long as the roads were
My mother felt that a morning of school was too long a period
for a growing child to go without food, so she had the cook pre-pare
mid-morning snacks which were done up in little bundles
and put on a table by the front door. They consisted of a sand-
wich, and a piece of sweet chocolate as a reward for eating the
sandwich. Whoever got there first would squeeze each bundle to see which
had the largest piece of chocolate and choose accord-ingly. Once out of
sight of the house we would open our bundles, toss the sandwiches over
the stone wall for the birds, and eat the chocolate. This was easy to do
in an open automobile because my father and Eddie
Green sat in front and paid little attention
to what went on behind, as long as there was no fighting.