It was late when they reached it; but the weather was fine, there was a bright moon at night, and they determined to start back at once. They bought three thousand feet of boards, with which they formed a raft. Soon after the sun rose they reached the landing place near their home.
Mr Landon kept to his promise to call a bee, and in three days a substantial log-house was erected, and the planks laid down of the ground and upper floors. The rest of the work, it was left to Rob and his brothers to finish.
Great was the surprise of Mrs Hale, when her sons, with her husband and Fanny, took her to see the house which she had thought was being built for some stranger coming to the settlement.
“It’s yours and father’s, mother, just an offering from your children,” said Rob. “If you will let Fanny and me have the old one, we hope to make ourselves happy in it.”
Mrs Hale thanked her dutiful children, and thanked God for having brought them to a country where their industry and perseverance had been so fully rewarded.
Story 4—Chapter 1.
John Armstrong, the Soldier; or, Barrack and Camp Life, written by himself.
I do not think that any one will care to know why I turned soldier. This much I may say, though; my native village was not far off some barracks within twenty miles of London; I had often watched the soldiers at drill, and had talked to a good many of them, till I fancied that I knew something about a soldier’s life. Now I wish to tell you what it really is, not only in comfortable barracks at home, but in camp abroad, in heat and cold, and before the enemy. I had my reasons for wishing not to enlist near home, and so bidding my parents and brothers and sisters good-bye, they not crying out, “Don’t go,” at break of day, one fine October morning, in the year 1850, started off for London without a penny in my pocket, or any other property than the clothes on my back, good health, and a stout heart.