On this road
father did his first road work in Michigan and here afterwards I
helped to move the logs out. The road-master, Mr. Smith, was not
willing to allow full time, for my work; however I put in part time.
Little did I think that here, one mile from Dearbornville, father
would, afterwards, buy a farm, build a large brick house, and end his
days, in peace and plenty.
From this point, one mile south of the little village, we were one mile
from father's chosen eighty, but had to follow an Indian trail two miles,
which led us to Mr. J. Pardee's. His place joined father's on the west.
We crossed Pardee's place, eighty rods, which brought us to ours. I dug
up some of the earth, found it black and rich, and sure enough no stones
in the way. Late in the afternoon I started back to mother, to tell her
that father had engaged a Mr. Thompson (who kept tavern in a log house,
half a mile east of Dearbornville) and team, and would come after her in
the morning. When I reached the Chicago road again, it seemed anything
but inviting. I could just see a streak ahead four or five miles, with
the trees standing thick and dark either side.
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