We took them on our shoulders and started home,
through the woods, thus saving two miles travel. On our way we explored
woods we had never seen before.
We planted the apple trees on the west end of the little ridge. They are
now old trees. I passed them the other day and thought of the time we set
them. Now some of them look as if they were dying with old age. I counted
and found that some of them were gone. I thought there was no one but me,
who could tell how, or when, those trees were planted, as they are nearly
forty years old.
East of those trees father built his second house in 1836. He made the
body of this house of large whitewood logs, split oak shakes with which
to cover it, and dug a well east of the house. Into this well he put the
shell of a large buttonwood log; we called it a "gum." It was said that
water would not taste of buttonwood; we had very good water there.
Father borrowed Mr. Traverse's cart, loaded up our things and we were
glad to leave our Bark Covered house, clay door-yard and Mr. Pardee's
woods, to which we had lived so near, that we could see the sun only for
a short time in the afternoon.
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