Annals of our ancestors; one hundred and fifty years of history in the ...

OUR NEIGHBORS 141
land and the establishment of a new home in a wild country.
Uncle Jimmie married in early life and had a number of chil-
dren; I recall Israel, David, and Isaac, and a daughter Eliza-
beth. Early his good wife, the mother of stalwart sons, died,
and after due time he found a mate in the person of Aunt
Betsy, who was one of the old-style fine managers. She had
but one child, who was a cripple and never walked without
support. I can see Johnnie yet as he sat in his low chair on
his mother's clean-scoured porch all through the long summer
a sight that ever touched us, for he could not play or
days —•
employ himself as other children; he could but look on and see
us full of the buoyancy and activity of childhood, bounding
across the meadows or over the hills free from all infirmities.
But I fancy it hurt his mother even more than it could the child
sitting in his little chair, to think that his life must remain but
an open prison, with no reprieve but death.
Johnnie's great affliction had a sad influence on all their
lives, but they did everything they knew for him. He was
born with a bright, active mind, and they brought him to
father to be taught to read; and now, in that almost forgotten
past, I see his half-sister Elizabeth, and perhaps a neighbor
girl, who brought Johnnie each morning in a little wagon made
purposely for him. This relieved to some extent the monotony
of his life, and when he had learned to read that afforded him
some amusement. His parents had an old-fashioned carriage
into which their combined effort could lift Johnnie, so every
Sunday he was at church to hear what was said and to see the
church friends. The mother observed that her son became
quite meditative, and she asked him if he was thinking of
becoming a Christian, to which he made the glad response,
"I am desiring to be baptized into Christ;" so Uncle Jimmie
came over to tell father that on the next Sunday, if arrangements
could be made, Johnnie would be ready for baptism
after the morning service.
Our beautiful stream of water. Mill Creek, flowing west of
Carthage, had a sandbar with a fine gravel margin, well washed
and solid; this was the fording place, and in a clear, deep pool
near the farther shore was the primitive baptistry. It was