On the frontier : $b or, Scenes in the WestPearson, C. H. (Charles Henry)
General
On the frontier : $b or, Scenes in the West
Pearson, C. H. (Charles Henry)
Frontier and pioneer life -- United States -- Juvenile fiction; Sunday school literature
Often her little figure might be seen tugging her baby across the
prairie to a neighbor's, to collect rare seeds, or bargain for hens.
Her faculties were ever on the alert, devising something to make home
comfortable; nor did snow, rain, loneliness, or sickness diminish her
zeal. Neuralgia, aggravated by exposure, low diet and miasma, often
prevails on the frontier. I have seen the hardiest pioneers writhe
in agony, completely unmanned by it—never at such times venturing
into the open air. Mrs. L. did not escape the disease. But what was
my astonishment, on one of those doleful days in November, when a
drizzling rain, driven by a cold wind, "sent mildew into the bones," to
see Mrs. L. perched on the top of a load of lumber, drawn by oxen. Her
face was bound up as if nursing the toothache, and she told me, with a
ringing laugh, that she had ridden twenty-four miles at that snail's
pace, and had had three teeth extracted!
Mrs. Myers, too, was another heroine whom I unexpectedly met, leading
almost the life of a recluse in the deep gloom of a humble forest home.
It was on this wise. Passing through the shaded path of heavy-timbered
land, on K— River, in a journey which I made on horseback, I came to
the brink of a roaring torrent where stood a mill. As I was looking for
a place to feed my horse, a man came forward, extended his hand, and
said,—
"How do you do, Mr. D.? What brought you away up here? Don't you know
me? My name is Myers, of P—, Massachusetts." But what a change a few
months of another climate and new habits had wrought in my old friend.
From the pale, almost effeminate dealer in dry goods, he had grown to
be bushy-whiskered and portly, his cheeks fairly shaking with fat.
"Do you live here?" I asked.
"Yes; came here last fall, with my wife, and wintered among the bears
and wolves, making shingles. You see," said he, alluding to his weighty
appearance, "I have been a 'gainer' by it. Never knew what it was to
have an appetite before. The cold last winter made me ravenous; and
though we had no market, you see we did not exactly starve. But, come,
my wife will want to see you; the face of an old acquaintance will be
next to going home again."
A low, snug shanty of oaken boards, just large enough to admit in its
one room a bedstead, stove, table, and a few home-made chairs, was
Mrs. Myers's empire—quite in contrast with her Eastern style. She
was a gentle, lady-like person, had been a successful teacher before
marriage, and was an accomplished musician. She cordially greeted me,
saying,—
"I shall make no apologies. I am too glad to see a human being in these
wilds, to care for aught else. Since we came here, not a person has
been at our place, save the few who chanced here for shingles, all
strangers to me, and such a long, cold winter I never experienced.
Until the snow melted, late in the spring, we were quite alone."
"Were you not homesick and gloomy?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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