He sowed about a bushel and a peck to
the acre. (I have for many years back, and to the present time, sowed two
bushels to the acre).
His wheat came up and looked beautiful. The next spring and early summer
it was very nice. One day a neighbor's unruly ox broke into it. I went
through it to drive him out and it was knee high. Father said take the ox
home. I did so. The neighbor was eating dinner. I told him his ox had
been in our wheat and that father wished him to keep the ox away. He said
we must make the fence better and he would not get in. This was the first
unkind word I had received from a neighbor in Michigan. The wheat escaped
the rust, headed and filled well and was an excellent crop. It helped us
a great deal and was our manna in the wilderness.
Father and I continued our chopping until we connected the two clearings.
Then we commenced to see the sun in the morning and we thought it shone
brighter here than it did in York State. Some of the neighbors said that
it really did, and that it might be on account of a reflection from the
water of the great lakes. Perhaps it was because the deep gloom of the
forest had shaded us so long and was now removed.
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