DANCING FOR A DINNER. 143 



had a robust little fellow in front of her, a stepson, I 

 believe, about three or four years old, and told him to 

 jump about the room for a piece of cake she held in 

 her hand. He began to jump, and looked very comical 

 as he bobbed up and down like a cork. AThen he 

 thought he had earned his cake, he came to ask for it, 

 but was put off with the word " more." lie quietly 

 went back to his place, and recommenced his exercise, 

 but had lost the cheerful expression of his countenance 

 — he was doing it as a duty. After dancing for some 

 time longer, he came again for his cake, in the firai 

 belief that this time he was sure of it, but a " more 

 yet " made him start. He begged, protested, cried — 

 all in vain ; " more yet," said his inexorable tormentor, 

 holding the cake up for him to jump at. Tears ran 

 down the poor little fellow's cheeks, and he jumped 

 and jumped, and sobbed, and wiped his eyes with his 

 sleeve. It was impossible to keep one's countenance 

 any longer, and as I cried with laugliing, he laughed 

 through his tears. He then received the cake he had 

 so well danced for, and jumped once more from free 

 will, out of doors with it. 



I packed all things on the horse, and set out on my 

 return the same evening. On the following morning 

 we began to build our house ; we pulled down an old 

 block-house, standing about three miles from the site 

 we had chosen, and carted the logs to our prairie, 

 where we could easily rebuild it. In the backwoods 

 building is a very simple art. In the first place, small 

 trees of oak, or some other good wood, are felled and 

 cut to the requisite length. Next comes the founda- 

 tion : two of the largest trunks are laid parallel to each 



