Before I could stop I heard the crack of a felly and a front wheel dropped to its hub.

I checked the horses and jumped out and went to their heads and cleared their eyes.

The snow was up to my knees then.
It seemed as if all the clouds in the sky were falling to the ground and stacking into a great, fleecy cover as dry as chaff.
We were there where the road drops into a rocky hollow near the edge of Butterfield's woods.

They used to call it Moosewood Hill because of the abundance of moosewood around the foot of it.

How the thought of that broken wheel smote me! It was our only heavy wagon, and we having to pay the mortgage.