Thirty years afterward, when I was there, I met the same man, he was
riding a horse down a hill as we were going up. I asked my cousin who he
was and when he told me I remembered the work I had done for him. I
inquired, of my cousin, about his circumstances; he said that he used to
be a rich man, but that he had lost his property and was poor. I am sure,
I didn't feel much like sympathizing with him.
Uncle Allen wrote to mother very often after she came to Michigan. He
told her how much he missed her, that she had been a mother to him. He
said the doors of the house, as he turned them on their hinges, seemed to
mourn her absence. It was this brother and his family that we wanted to
see the most. We heard from him often and learned that he had been
successful in business. He bought two farms, joining the one he bought of
father, and one about a mile off and paid for them, they were farms which
father and mother knew very well. We learned, from others, that he was a
wealthy, prominent and influential man, in that old country. Fickle
fortune had smiled on him and he had taken what she offered to give.
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