in wagons, without whose sublime courage and endurance the plains would still be an unplowed wilderness.  Often we hear them set down as seedy, shiftless dreamers who could not make a living at home.  They were mostly the best blood of the world and the noblest of God’s missionaries.  Who does not honor them above the thrifty, comfort loving men and women who preferred to stay at home, where risks were few, the supply of food sure and sufficient and the consolations of friendship and religion always at hand.  Samson and Sarah preferred to enlist and take their places in the front battle line of Civilization.  They had read a little book called The Country of the Sangamon.  The latter was a word of the Pottawatomies meaning land of plenty.  It was the name of a river in Illinois draining “boundless, flowery meadows of unexampled beauty and fertility, belted with timber, blessed with shady groves, covered with game and mostly level, without a stick or a stone to vex the plowman.”  Thither they were bound to take up a section of government land.

They stopped for a visit with Elisha Howard and his wife, old friends of theirs, who lived in the village of Malone, which was in Franklin County, New York.  There they traded their oxen for a team of horses.  They were large gray horses named Pete and Colonel.  The latter was fat and good-natured.  His chief interest in life was food.  Pete was always looking for food and perils.  Colonel was the near horse.  Now and then Samson threw a sheepskin over his back and put the boy on it and tramped along within arm’s reach of Joe’s left leg.  This was a great delight to the little lad.

They proceeded at a better pace to the Black River country, toward which, in the village of Canton, they tarried again for a visit with Captain Moody and Silas Wright, both of whom had taught school in the town of Vergennes.

They proceeded through DeKalb, Richville and Gouverneur and Antwerp and on to the Sand Plains.  They had gone far out of their way for a look at these old friends of theirs.

Every day the children would ask many questions, as they rode along, mainly about the beasts and birds in the dark shadows of the forest through which they passed.  These were answered patiently by their father and mother and every answer led to other queries.

“You’re a funny pair,” said their father one day.  “You have to turn over every word we say to see what’s under it.  I used to be just like ye, used to go out in the lot and tip over every stick and stone I could lift to see the bugs and crickets run.  You’re always hopin’ to see a bear or a panther or a fairy run out from under my remarks.”

“Wonder why we don’t see no bears?” Joe asked. “’Cause they always see us first or hear us comin’,” said his father.  “If you’re goin’ to see ol’ Uncle Bear ye got to pay the price of admission.”

“What’s that?” Joe asked.

“Got to go still and careful so you’ll see him first.  If this old wagon didn’t talk so loud and would kind o’ go on its tiptoes maybe we’d see him.  He don’t like to be seen.  Seems so he was kind o’ shamed of himself, an’ I wouldn’t wonder if be was.  He’s done a lot o’ things to be ’shamed of.”