176 
A FOREST  SERMON. 
By  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Van  Cleye  Hall. 
[Read  before  the  Hawaiian  Branch  of  the  Women’s  National 
Rivers  and  Harbors  Congress,  on  March  31,  1909.] 
This  will  be  a little  sermon  made  up  of  short  stories ; my 
text  is  from  Romans  14:7:  “No  man  liveth  to  himself.” 
When  I was  a child,  yet  old  enough  to  remember  it  all,  my 
father  took  his  family  from  the  beautiful  State  of  Michigan, 
where  I was  born,  and  moved  into  the  equally  beautiful  State 
of  Minnesota ; the  land  of  the  “sky-tinted  waters,”  as  the  In- 
dians call  it. 
Our  home  was  in  the  remote  interior  of  the  State  on  what 
had  been  an  Indian  reservation,  and  there  were  some  sixty 
houses  standing  all  empty.  It  was  called  Long  Prairie ; and 
was  situated  in  the  heart  of  the  “Big  Woods,”  being  one  of 
those  natural  clearings,  or  openings,  so  common  in  our  west- 
ern forests. 
The  land  had  been  purchased  by  a company  of  capitalists, 
two  of  whom  were  uncles  of  mine,  and,  knowing  that  some  of 
our  family  were  not  especially  robust  in  health,  it  was  sug- 
gested that  we  try  what  the  dry  air  of  Minnesota  would  do 
for  us.  Besides  my  father  was  especially  fond  of  farm  life  and 
this  land  was  ideal  for  that  purpose. 
As  I have  said,  the  primeval  forest  lay  all  about  us.  The 
prairie  was  about  ten  miles  long  and  from  two  to  three  miles 
wide.  A good  stream  ran  through  the  land  and  several  charm- 
ing lakes  were  included  in  this  ten  miles.  Splendid  meadows 
and  rich  grazing  lands  made  it  a perfect  country  for  stock 
raising. 
We  were  twenty-eight  miles  west  of  the  Mississippi;  the 
road  was  horrible,  but  the  forest  magnificent  all  of  that  dis- 
tance. Woods,  woods,  woods,  all  the  way — and  oh,  how 
glorious  it  was ! Then  our  little  prairie  and  woods  again  ex- 
tending, with  only  small  openings,  way  up  to  the  head  waters 
of  the  great  Mississippi. 
We  lived  there  for  nearly  five  years;  then  the  Civil  War 
called  my  father,  who  had  had  a military  education,  to  the 
front;  and  we  sold  our  stock  and  moved  to  Minneapolis,  where 
we  could  be  in  daily  telegraphic  communication  with  the  army. 
I have  never  visited  the  old  home  on  the  prairie  since.  It  is 
now  a thriving  town  with  railways,  steamboats  on  the  little 
river,  and  is  the  county  seat  of  Todd  County. 
When  I last  visited  Minneapolis,  I said  to  one  of  my 
brothers,  “I  do  wish  I could  take  time  to  visit  Long  Prairie, 
I have  never  been  there  since  we  moved  away.  I would  like 
to  see  the  woods  again,  and  to  test  my  memory  of  old 
localities.” 
