She cut great slices of this bread for us and spread maple
sugar on them, and it seemed to us that never before had anything tasted
so good.

The next morning we made the last stage of our journey, our hearts
filled with the joy of nearing our new home. We all had an idea that we
were going to a farm, and we expected some resemblance at least to the
prosperous farms we had seen in New England. My mother's mental picture
was, naturally, of an English farm. Possibly she had visions of red
barns and deep meadows, sunny skies and daisies. What we found awaiting
us were the four walls and the roof of a good-sized log-house, standing
in a small cleared strip of the wilderness, its doors and windows
represented by square holes, its floor also a thing of the future, its
whole effect achingly forlorn and desolate. It was late in the afternoon
when we drove up to the opening that was its front entrance, and I shall
never forget the look my mother turned upon the place. Without a word
she crossed its threshold, and, standing very still, looked slowly
around her. Then something within her seemed to give way, and she sank
upon the ground. She could not realize even then, I think, that this was
really the place father had prepared for us, that here he expected us to
live. When she finally took it in she buried her face in her hands, and
in that way she sat for hours without moving or speaking. For the first
time in her life she had forgotten us; and we, for our part, dared not
speak to her. We stood around her in a frightened group, talking to one
another in whispers. Our little world had crumbled under our feet. Never
before had we seen our mother give way to despair.

Night began to fall. The woods became alive with night creatures, and
the most harmless made the most noise. The owls began to hoot, and soon
we heard the wildcat, whose cry--a screech like that of a lost and
panic-stricken child--is one of the most appalling sounds of the forest.
Later the wolves added their howls to the uproar, but though darkness
came and we children whimpered around her, our mother still sat in her
strange lethargy.

At last my brother brought the horses close to the cabin and built fires
to protect them and us. He was only twenty, but he showed himself a man
during those early pioneer days. While he was picketing the horses and
building his protecting fires my mother came to herself, but her face
when she raised it was worse than her silence h