"She died!" I repeated, feeling sad.
"And we had to bury her in a strange place—a high knoll in the woods by the road-side—and go away and leave her there alone. O, Mr. ——," she exclaimed, "I've dream'd a thousand times of that spot in the woods: what wouldn't I give if I could go and find it!"
"What did you do when you first arrived here?" I inquired.
"Why, it was all trees all over, everywhere, then. There warn't any houzens, nor any roads to travel on, nor no white folks but Venison Styles, and some other hunters who are gone away now; nor anything to live on; and nothin' to be heard nights but the varmints screamin'," said Mrs. Brown, laying down her knitting-work, and shoving up her spectacles with a convulsive twitch, for she was getting eloquent. "There warn't a pound of meat for fifty miles round—no pork for love nor money—and so we cut down a place, and built a log shanty, and liv'd on deer meat, for deers were as thick as hops all over."
"And what then?" said I.
"The next spring," she continued, "we cleared a couple of acres, and put it into taters, turnips, beets, and all kind-er garden sass; and then we girdled the trees on ten or twelve acres more, and in the fall we put this inter wheat, and in a year or so we began to live."
"And that large farm you live on, Mrs. Brown, is the spot you first settled? Where are your children now?"
"They are round yet," said Sonora. "Jim teaches school, and spec'lates, and fiddles some, and can doctor if he likes. Jim is the only genus in our family: he's as smart as litenin'; Lem is more staid and sober-like. He allers took to hum chores, fod'ring cattle, and such like-er things. He married Squire Nolet's darter; and they are pretty big folks—got carpets in their bed-rooms, and all over the house—and he is now settled on a farm out on Horse-Neck Plains; and Jim is now doin' fust-rate."
"What became of Molly?"
"Molly made a bad go on't. She married a trav'ling singing-master—and I do suppose," she exclaimed, "he is one of the most good-for-nothin' dogs in the whole settlement. I don't see how in airth Molly ever took a notion to him: he hain't got no larnin'—he won't work—and I don't like his singin'. I don't see what such critters are made for." (The old lady heaved a long sigh.)