Father said he gave him his part. He soon
had as nice a little farm as any one need wish to own in the State of
Michigan, and he had it clear from debt. After my brother-in-law moved
away my brother became lonesome, dissatisfied and was not contented with
so good a place. He sold it in two pieces and bought a farm out within
half a mile of Dearbornville, beyond father's. He moved on to it and
lives there now right in sight of the village.
It is not my intention to delineate, at any length, the circumstances of
any of the family unless in connection, with my father and mother, or the
old place where we first settled in the wilderness, where I labored so
hard, in my young life, and took so much interest in my father's getting
along during his trying days in the woods of Michigan.
I was along there, by what was father's old place, one day this winter,
1875. I looked at the barn and saw that it was getting old. I noticed the
two little orchards, some of the trees had disappeared and others looked
as if they were dying, with old age. I saw young orchards on the place,
which were set out by other hands, those who knew but little of us.
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