Life on a Wisconsin Farm 



such beautiful, wondering eyes looking out on 

 the world and slowly getting acquainted with 

 things, all so strange to them, and awkwardly 

 learning to use their legs, and play and fight. 



Before leaving Scotland, father promised us 

 a pony to ride when we got to America, and 

 we saw to it that this promise was not forgotten. 

 Only a week or two after our arrival in the 

 woods he bought us a little Indian pony for 

 thirteen dollars from a store-keeper in Kingston 

 who had obtained him from a Winnebago or 

 Menominee Indian in trade for goods. He was 

 a stout handsome bay with long black mane 

 and tail, and, though he was only two years old, 

 the Indians had already taught him to carry 

 all sorts of burdens, to stand without being 

 tied, to go anywhere over all sorts of ground 

 fast or slow, and to jump and swim and 

 fear nothing, a truly wonderful creature, 

 strangely different from shy, skittish, nervous, 

 superstitious civilized feasts. We turned him 

 loose, and, strange to say, he never ran away 

 from us or refused to be caught, but behaved 

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