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on, and that Lincoln had called for troops, our men

were threshing. There was only one threshing-



machine in the region at that time, and it went

from place to place, the farmers doing their thresh-



ing whenever they could get the machine. I re-

member seeing a man ride up on horseback, shout-



ing out Lincoln's demand for troops and explaining

that a regiment was being formed at Big Rapids.



Before he had finished speaking the men on the ma-

chine had leaped to the ground and rushed off to



enlist, my brother Jack, who had recently joined us,

among them. In ten minutes not one man was left



in the field. A few months later my brother Tom

enlisted as a bugler--he was a mere boy at the time--



and not long after that my father followed the example

of his sons and served until the war was ended. He



had entered on the twenty-ninth of August, 1862, as

an army steward; he came back to us with the rank



of lieutenant and assistantsurgeon of field and staff.

Between those years I was the principal support



of our family, and life became a strenuous and tragic

affair. For months at a time we had no news from



the front. The work in our community, if it was

done at all, was done by despairing women whose



hearts were with their men. When care had become

our constant guest, Death entered our home as well.



My sister Eleanor had married, and died in childbirth,

leaving her baby to me; and the blackest hours of



those black years were the hours that saw her pass-

ing. I can see her still, lying in a stupor from which



she roused herself at intervals to ask about her child.

She insisted that our brother Tom should name the



baby, but Tom was fighting for his country, unless

he had already preceded Eleanor through the wide



portal that was opening before her. I could only

tell her that I had written to him; but before the



assurance was an hour old she would climb up from

the gulf of unconsciousness with infinite effort to



ask if we had received his reply. At last, to calm

her, I told her it had come, and that Tom had chosen



for her little son the name of Arthur. She smiled

at this and drew a deep breath; then, still smiling,



she passed away. Her baby slipped into her vacant

place and almost filled our heavy hearts, but only



for a short time; for within a few months after his

mother's death his father married again and took



him from me, and it seemed that with his going

we had lost all that made life worth while.



The problem of living grew harder with every-

day. We eked out our little income in every way



we could, taking as boarders the workers in the log-

ging-camps, making quilts, which we sold, and losing



no chance to earn a penny in any legitimate manner.

Again my mother did such outside sewing as she



could secure, yet with every month of our effort

the gulf between our income and our expenses grew



wider, and the price of the bare necessities of exis-

ence{sic} climbed up and up. The largest amount I



could earn at teaching was six dollars a week, and

our school year included only two terms of thir-



teen weeks each. It was an incessant struggle to

keep our land, to pay our taxes, and to live. Cal-



ico was selling at fifty cents a yard. Coffee was

one dollar a pound. There were no men left to



grind our corn, to get in our crops, or to care for

our live stock; and all around us we saw our



struggle reflected in the lives of our neighbors.

At long intervals word came to us of battles in



which my father's regiment--the Tenth Michigan

Cavalry Volunteers--or those of my brothers were



engaged, and then longer intervals followed in which

we heard no news. After Eleanor's death my



brother Tom was wounded, and for months we lived

in terror of worse tidings, but he finally recovered.



I was walking seven and eight miles a day, and doing




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