The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1888-03-31
A STRANGE VISITOR: A TRUE
STORY.

Sixty years ago, the Linn family lived
all by themselves in little cabin in the
woods of Western New York. THOR
nearest neighbors were ten miles away
in Harrington, a new village which had
sprung up there in the depths of the
wilderness. Six out of its eight houses
were built Of logs so lately cut that they
had scarcely forgotten their old tree life
and some of them we're ready to sprou
again, when the naples around them felt
the reviving breath OF spring.
From this little cluster of houses, a
road pushed its way into the woods,
where it wound over bill and dale, a mere
wagon track, that stopped at the door of
the Linn cabin, for all the world as
though it could not, if it would, go any
further.
Here the trees had been cut down to
make room for corn and potatoes and a
little patch of buckwhest. Still, SO many
great, ugly stumps were left that one
could scarcely call the clearing garden,
much less farm, though, in time, it be-
came one of the finest in all that coun-
try.
But it was rough enough when Farmer
Linn. with his CHEEKY wife and their little
ones, went oct TO seek their fortunes in
what was then known as "the Lake coun-
try" Their cabin was built on beautiful
stream that ran tinkling through the for
est on its way to turn a grist-mill at Han
nington. The wild flowers which grew
by this brook in those days are some
thing to remember, when all the land
was cleared and settled, as it is now.
There trailing arbutus in early spring,
and azaleas, pink and white, made the
woods gay in their season. In August,
the fiery torches of the lobelia lighted up
the banks of the stream; while there were
scores of other blossoms, for which the
newcomers had no name.
Every nut-tree. however, was familiar
acquaintance. There were chestnut trees
on the hills around; and hickories and
walnuts grew here and there in the
woods, where they had been planted by
their devoted friends, the squirrels. As
for acorn cups, they were near at hand;
for the cabin stood under an oak tree,
one of the giants of the forest, which
stretched it's protecting arms, not only
over the low roof, but its neighboring
cow'shed and wood-pile. Clamberlng up
on these into the branches, the little
folks in trousers and petticoats were
almost as much at home there as the little
folks in fur and feathers.
This was while leaves were on the
rees. But it was not always summer in
the clearing. Chill north-easters some
times blew through the woods. The
birds went flying southwark, the flowers
were gone, and the brook. if it sang at all,
sang with a muffl I'd voice. For months
at time, the earth lay wrapped in a
winding sheet of snow. The road was so
completely hidden under the drifts that,
when Farmer Linn ventured to Hannine-
ton with his sled, he sometimes rode on
the tops OF the bushes, and was guided
home by marks on the trees, which he
had blazed with his Ratchet.
The first winter which the Linns spent
in their clearing was marked by one of
white men came to "the Lake country"
The family in the cabin had been shut
in so long that they began to be anxious
for news from the great outside world.
"Wife," said Farmer Linn one night,
as they sat together by the blazing fire,
"it's over three weeks since I've been to
the post-office. Who would ever think
we would live so long within ten miles of
one without going there for news 1
think I'll make a start tomorrow morn
ing"
Mrs. Linn shook her head wisely, as
she drew the yarn through a great hole
she was darning in Sans stocking.
"The almanac says, Heavy SHOWS about
this time, husband"
"Poohl What does the almanac man
know about snow in the Lake country?
Might as well expect the old fellow in
the moon to know when it is going to
rain down here. 1 expect to start to-
morrow morning, about nine O'Clock, for
the village" So saying, Mr.. Linn gave
the burning log before him such vigor
GUS punch with the tongs that shower
of sparks few up the chimney.
"May l go with you, father?' asked
Sam, who was busy on the hearth with a
dish of chestnuts he was putting to roast
in the ashes.