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In the spring of the year the fires used to run over the plains, burning up the dry grass, fallen timber and many of the trees. Before there was plowing and fencing we could ride over the country in any direction. Then the green grass would spring up and a succession of the most beautiful flowers of almost every kind and color. I can never forget that sight—as far as the eye could reach, like a flower garden. Soon, however, the country became settled, log houses and sheds, little patches of wheat here and there, and other crops, with plenty of fever and ague. We bought quinine by the bottle and dosed it out without stint. Some of us began to think Michigan was a pretty hard place. Often there would not be well ones enough in a family to care for the sick. But that nearly all passed away with the Indians, wolves, bears, and big snakes, and civilization, schools, churches and culture have taken their places, and to-day we behold this beautiful country.
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