Father often repeated such stories in our wilderness home in regard to
this war, the revolutionary war and the war of 1812. I and the other
children always listened to these tales with much attention and interest.
It was the way I received most of my knowledge, in regard to such things,
in those days. As we lived in the woods of Michigan my means of acquiring
book-knowledge were very limited. Now, I believe, if I were to read the
sum and substance of the same thing every month in the year, for years;
the way he related those old stories would still be the accepted way to
my mind. Although they might be clothed in language more precise and far
more eloquent it would not appear so to me.
CHAPTER XXIV.
LIGHT BEGINS TO DAWN.
Father's farm improved with astonishing rapidity and became quite a
pleasant place. Some of the stumps rotted out, some we tore out and some
were burned up. In these ways many had disappeared and it began to look
like old land. It was rich and productive and, in truth, it looked as
level as a house floor. Some seasons it was rather wet, not being
ditched sufficiently to take the water off.
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