ood and womanhood,
knowing but little of the world outside their home sphere. Who can say
that they were not as happy as if they had seen the whole world? Had
they not experienced the joys of the sugar camp while "stirring off"
the lively, creeping maple sugar? Both had been thumped upon the bare
head by the falling hickory nuts in windy weather; had hunted the black
walnuts half hidden in the leaves; had scraped the ground for the
elusive beechnuts. They had ventured to apple parings together when not
yet out of their 'teens.

"I'm going to be a farmer when I get married," the lad quite abruptly
said to the lass one day, without any previous conversation to lead up
to the statement.

His companion showed by her confusion that she had not mistaken what was
in his mind. After a while she remarked, "Yes, I want to be a farmer
too. But I want to be a farmer on our own land."

Two bargains were confirmed then and there when the lad said, "We will
go West and not live on pap's farm," and she responded, "Nor in the old
cabin, nor any cabin unless it's our own."

So the resolution was made that they would go to Iowa, get some land,
and grow up with the country.

About the first week of October, in 1851, a covered wagon drew up in
front of Thomas Sumner's house, then but four miles out from
Indianapolis on the National Road. It was ready to be loaded for the
start.

Eliza Jane, Thomas Sumner's second daughter, the lass already described,
was now the wife of the young man mentioned (the author). She also was
ready for the journey. She had prepared supplies enough to last all the
way,--cake and butter and pumpkin pies, jellies and the like, with
plenty of substantials besides. The two young people had plenty of
blankets, a good-sized Dutch oven, an extra pair of shoes apiece, cloth
for two dresses for the wife, and an extra pair of trousers for the
husband.

Tears could not be restrained as the loading progressed and the
realization faced the parents of both that the young people were about
to leave them.

"Why, mother, we are only going to Iowa, you know, where we can get a
home that shall be our own. It's not so far away--only about five
hundred miles."

[Illustration: A Dutch oven.]

"Yes, I know, but suppose you get sick in that uninhabited country; who
will take care of you?"

Notwithstanding this motherly solicitude, the young people could not
fail to know that there was a secret feeling of approval in the g