ngs, and then recur to his
melancholy-looking face, with its mild blue eyes and sharpened features.
You think he looks thin, and conjecture that his chest may be weak, or
his lungs affected, by the stoop in his shoulders; but when he lifts his
eyes, and asks the way to Thompson's ferry, or how far it is to water,
you are satisfied: for the glance of his eye is calm and firm, and the
tone of his voice is round and healthy. You answer his question, he nods
quietly by way of thanks, and marches on; and, though you draw your
rein, and seem inclined to further converse, he takes no notice, and
pursues his way.

A few minutes afterward, you meet the family. A small, light wagon,
easily dragged through sloughs and heavy roads, is covered with a white
cotton cloth, and drawn, by either two yokes of oxen, or a pair of lean
horses. A "patch-work" quilt is sometimes stretched across the flimsy
covering, as a guard against the sun and rain. Within this vehicle are
stowed all the emigrant's household goods, and still, it is not
overloaded.

There is usually a large chest, containing the wardrobe of the family,
with such small articles as are liable to loss, and the little store of
money. This is always in silver, for the pioneer is no judge of gold,
and, on the frontier, paper has but little exchangeable value. There are
then two light bedsteads--one "a trundle-bed"--a few plain chairs, most
of them tied on behind and at the sides; three or four stools, domestic
manufacture; a set of tent-poles and a few pots and pans. On these are
piled the "beds and bedding," tied in large bundles, and stowed in such
manner as to make convenient room for the children who are too young to
walk. In the front end of the wagon, sits the mother of the family: and,
peering over her head and shoulders, leaning out at her side, or gazing
under the edge of the cotton-covering, are numerous flaxen heads, which
you find it difficult to count while you ride past.

There are altogether too many of them, you think, for a man no older
than the one you met, a while ago; and you, perhaps, conjecture that the
youthful-looking woman has adopted some of her dead sister's children,
or, perchance, some of her brothers and sisters themselves. But you are
mistaken, they are all her offspring, and the father of every one of
them is the stoop-shouldered man you saw ahead. If you look closely, you
will observe that the mother, who is driving, holds the reins with one
h