The truth was, that her
big brother was one of many boys who were fast being made drunkards by
the village saloons.
Mother went to Ohio on a visit, and father went to Iowa to attend to
some business. On his return he met one of the State Republican
Committee, who insisted on making arrangements for him to stay in
Illinois until the presidential election, and speak for Fremont.
It was raw November weather when we started back to Kansas, with a
one-horse wagon, drawn by Copper, and a heavily loaded mule team,
driven by a boy named Henry Whitaker, who is now one of the merchants
of Atchison. Mother was sick, and we had to stop a week. Then the mud
became so deep that father had to buy a yoke of oxen and hitch on
behind the mules. Then it froze up, rough and hard, and we stopped for
a blacksmith to make shoes for the oxen, and were directed to stay
with a widow who had an empty house. She had built a new house of
hewed logs, with a window in it, and we were allowed to stay in the
old cabin.
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