He was presented by her
with his first heir, and during her illness she was cared for by her
mother, Mrs. Cullany, who had come to live with them during the winter.
When the little babe was two or three weeks old the mother was feeling
in such good spirits that she was left alone a little while, as Mrs.
Cullany was attending to some duties which called her elsewhere. When
she returned she was surprised to see that both Mrs. Parkinson and the
babe were gone. Everyone turned out to search for her. I ran to the
smokehouse, the barn, the stable in quick order, and not finding her a
search was made for tracks, and we soon discovered that she had passed
over a few steps leading over a fence and down an incline toward the
spring house, and there fallen, face downward, on the floor of the house
which was covered only a few inches deep with water lay the unfortunate
woman and her child, both dead. This was doubly distressing to Mr.
Parkinson and saddened the whole community. Both were buried in one
grave, not far from the house, and a more impressive funeral I never
beheld.
I now worked awhile again with Mr. Henry and we sold our wood to Bill
Park, a collier, who made and sold charcoal to the smelters of lead ore.
When the ice was gone in the streams, Henry and I shouldered our guns
and bundles, and made our way to Milwaukee, where we arrived in the
course of a few days. The town was small and cheaply built, and had no
wharf, so that when the steamboat came we had to go out to it in a small
boat.
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