I love to think of that old log house with its hewed puncheon floors and thick oaken doors, where my youth was spent. It was a home of peace, of comfort, of plenty and prosperity. Its site was a beautiful one on a knoll near the great military road leading from Detroit to Chicago, and about midway between those cities. The next spring my father, my older brother and myself accompanying him, went to the nearby timber land and got two hundred young sugar maples, black walnuts and butternut trees that were presently planted in concentric circles around that home castle. My father did not believe in drilling ornamental trees into rank and file, like a column of soldiers. He had faith in Nature's beauty and did not think it could be improved by man. Nature should be subordinated to man's will only when cultivation becomes an essential element to the growth, which as a general rule holds only when the tree or plant or shrub is not indigenous to the soil. In the fall of that year I was prostrated by a large abscess in the right groin. I could neither stand on my feet, nor sit in an upright position. A pallet on the floor, or in some shady nook outdoors when the weather was propitious, was my favorite, and for most of the time my lonely, resting place. On the morning of which I am about to write, my mother was urging my father, as the abscess by its color indicated that it was ripe for the surgeon's lance, to go for a doctor to examine it and my condition, and if proper, to open it and let out the long accumulated poison. The nearest doctor lived some thirty miles away, but my father, yielding to my mother's persuasions, concluded to go. Before he had arisen from his seat at the table he requested my brother to bring in some stove wood. Boy-like, brother piled up such a quantity on his left arm that he could not see over it, and, bending backward, he came into the house seemingly oblivious to my location, tripped against me and fell, striking the end of the wood upon the abscess. Effectually, but not in a very scientific manner, this opened it. I swooned away, and it was sometime before consciousness returned to me. As proof of my brother's surgical skill, a star-shaped scar over an inch in length, remains today. There were some mitigating circumstances, however, in this surgical work:--it saved a lonely journey and a large doctor bill. He received no compensation--but otherwise--for his effective treatment, and the resultant benefit. On account of sickness and the want of opportunity, I did not attend school until I was nine years of age. I had a large number of picture books containing stories of bears, panthers, lions and tigers. I had to hire other boys to read them to me, and this kept me in a bankrupt condition. I was frantic to be able to read them myself, and when opportunity offered I soon accomplished this purpose.