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[108] they love their chosen too wisely and too well to diminish by one care the burthen that makes them strong, to lessen by one pang the agony that makes them good, to prevent one mistake of the folly that makes them wise.

Light of heart and step, the traveler walked on. In the afternoon he reached Ann Harbor, fourteen miles from Poultney; thence, partly on canal-boat and partly on foot, he went to Schenectady, and there took a “line-boat” in the Erie Canal. A week of tedium in the slow line-boat—a walk of a hundred miles through the woods, and he had reached his father's log-house. He arrived late in the evening. The last ten miles of the journey he performed after dark, guided, when he could catch a glimpse of it through the dense foliage, by a star. The journey required at that time about twelve days: it is now done in eighteen hours. It cost Horace Greeley about seven dollars; the present cost by railroad is eleven dollars; distance, six hundred miles.

He found his father and brother transformed into backwoodsmen. Their little log-cabin stood in the mist of a narrow clearing, which was covered with blackened stumps, and smoked with burning timber. Forests, dense and almost unbroken, heavily timbered, abounding in wolves and every other description of varmint, extended a day's journey in every direction, and in some directions many days' journey. The country was then so wild and “new,” that a hunter would sell a man a deer before it was shot; and appointing the hour when, and the spot where, the buyer was to call for his game, would have it ready for him as punctually as though he had ordered it at Fulton market. The wolves were so bold, that their howlings could be heard at the house as they roamed about in packs in search of the sheep; and the solitary camper-out could hear them breathe and see their eye-balls glare, as they prowled about his smoldering fire. Mr. Greeley, who had brought from Vermont a fondness for rearing sheep, tried to continue that branch of rural occupation in the wilderness; but after the wolves, in spite of his utmost care and precaution, had killed a hundred sheep for him, he gave up the attempt. But it was a level and a very fertile region— “varmint” always select a good “ location” —and it has since been subdued into a beautiful land of wheat and woods.

Horace stayed at home for several weeks, assisting his father,

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