When we settled on an Oklahoma homestead, we hauled water from the Canadian River, three miles away, until a well was dug on the home place. A well was a novelty to me, a 9-year-old girl, and I loved to look down at the water. Although I had been warned to keep the cover in place, sometimes I would lift the lid and steal a peek.
One day when I was watering pigs, I decided to look down into the well. As soon as I lifted the lid, a little pig fell in.
My first impulse was not to tell, but when I realized the pig would drown and spoil the water, I ran for my mother. We hurried to rescue the pig.
She lowered me into the well, riding on a bucket tied to a rope. The water was only shoulder deep, so I could stand on the bottom to pick up the pig. Time after time he climbed out of the bucket. I took off my hood and put it around him, tying the strings to the bucket bail, and Mama pulled him up. Then she lowered the bucket again to lift me out of the well.
I had been a disobedient child, but somehow I never was punished for lifting the lid and almost drowning a little pig.
Mrs. C. H. Campbell
Back in 1955 a call went out from the editors of the then Capper’s Weekly asking for readers to send in articles on true pioneers. Hundreds of letters came pouring in from early settlers and their children, many now in their 80s and 90s, and from grandchildren of settlers, all with tales to tell. So many articles were received that a decision was made to create a book, and in 1956, the first My Folks title – My Folks Came in a Covered Wagon – hit the shelves. Nine other books have since been published in the My Folks series, all filled to the brim with true tales from Capper’s readers, and we are proud to make those stories available to our growing online community.
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