It met other bobsleds, or single sleighs, greeted them with merry shouts and swept onward. Everybody sang and the sleigh bells jingled in tuneless medley.
Then they harnessed the horses, brought in the stones or bricks from the sled, heated them and bundled in for the long drive home. The sleds glided silently over the beaten snow and the sleighs jingled in loneliness. For the east was grey and the dancers slept.
Agnes Smedley, Daughter of Earth, The Feminist Press, New York, 1973, p.32, 34.
CIRCUMSTANCE: "You always knew, weeks in advance, of a molasses pulling, and for this all the young couples of dancing age prepared. When the day arrived, you hitched a team or two to a big bobsled..."
I picked up my spoon, but it clattered against the plate. A dainty little girl in blue, with flaring white silk ribbons on her braid of hair, glanced at me primly. I did not touch the spoon again, but sat with my hands under me watching the others in perfect self-possession and without noise. I knew I could never eat like that and if I tried to swallow, the whole table would hear.
Agnes Smedley, Daughter of Earth, The Feminist Press, New York, 1973, p.57.
CIRCUMSTANCE: a poor girl from the slums at a birthday party of one of her classmates.