position it occupies to-day.

We loved Michigan, and would fain have lived there always, but several
of our family became much enfeebled by the malarial influences so
prevalent at that time in the beautiful peninsula, and we felt that a
complete change of climate was imperatively necessary. So, bidding a
reluctant good-bye to home and friends, we turned our faces towards
Minnesota, in the hope that that far-famed atmosphere would drive away
all tendency to intermittent fevers and invigorate our shattered
constitutions.

[Illustration]

_CHAPTER XVII._

In the autumn of 1856 our family removed to Long Prairie, Todd county,
Minnesota, as the nucleus of a colony which was to settle and develop
a large tract of land, purchased from government by a company, some
members of which were our friends and relatives.

The weather was very pleasant when we left our Michigan home, but at
the Mississippi river the _squaw winter_, immediately preceding
_Indian summer_, came upon us with unusual sharpness, and lasted
through the remainder of our journey. We were to cross the river at a
little hamlet called "Swan River," and our plan was to hire
conveyances there which should take us the remaining distance. But on
arriving at this point we found a young friend who had come West for
his health, and was acting as agent for my brother, one of the owners
of the purchase. He was on a business errand and not well prepared to
take us back with him, but as we learned that it would be impossible
to procure transportation for two or three days, and were extremely
anxious to reach the end of our journey, he decided to make the
attempt. We made the transit in small skiffs amidst huge cakes of
floating ice, which threatened to swamp us before we reached the
western shore, and our fears well nigh got the better of some of us,
but taking a lesson from the implicit confidence our dear children
reposed in us, we rested in our Heavenly Father's love and care, and
so passed safely and trustingly over. At 4 P. M., we struck out into
the wilderness, but, the roads being rough and our load heavy, we made
very slow progress. By 9 o'clock we had not reached the half-way mark,
but by way of encouragement to the horses, and in consideration of the
tired, hungry children, we came to a halt and improvised a nocturnal
picnic. It was cold, very cold, there was no shelter, no light but the
camp-fire, and yet there was an attempt at cheerfulness, and the