THE RESULT OF DISOBEDIENCE
My parents and their six children, including myself, lived in Flintville,
Wisconsin, near the Suamico River and Pond, where a great number of logs
had been floated in for lumber. On the opposite side from us were woods,
where wintergreen berries were plentiful. One pleasant Sunday morning in
October, 1857, one of our playmates came to ask mother if we, my older
sister, a younger brother, and I, might go with her to pick some of these
berries.
Mother said we might go if we would go down the river and cross the bridge.
She knew that we had crossed the pond several times on the logs, but the
water was unusually high for that time of the year, and there was danger in
crossing that way. We promised to cross by the bridge, really intending
when we left home to do so. Mother let my two younger sisters, one four and
the other six years old, go with us.
We left the house as happy as could be. My mother smiled as she stood in
the door and watched us go. She had always trusted us, and we seldom
disobeyed her. But this time we had our playmate with us, and the had been
in the habit of having her own way.
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