Now he
could sit on his veranda in the twilight, when it was pleasant, and when
the shadows of evening were spread over the face of nature, he could peer
away into the distance to the south and southwest, for a mile and more,
and see lights in different places glistening and shining like stars
through the darkness. They were the lights of lamps and candles, burning
in his distant neighbors' dwellings and shining through their windows. He
could go to his north window and see lights all along, from his house to
Dearbornville, for he was in plain sight of the village. Now he lived in
what might be styled, if not an old country, a thickly inhabited part of
the country.
A few years before, when father and I were out and could not get home
until after dark, we frequently walked through the woods a mile or two
without seeing a light. When we came to our clearing we could see one
light, and that was mother's lone light in the window waiting for us. It
was three or four years, after we settled in Michigan, before the light
of any neighbor's window could be seen, from our house. Father's
situation was very different when he was comfortably settled in his new
house.
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