Father came home from Milwaukee at Christmas-time, bringing the flour
of a few bushels of wheat, a pair of shoes for my brother and me, a
new pair of boots for himself, and some unbleached muslin. Weren't we
happy! It was a day of rejoicing. I remember father's going to the
woodpile and in a few moments cutting a pile of wood, which gave us the
first hot fire of the season. That afternoon mother made bread, and we
had salt, pepper, tea, and fresh meat, for father had bought a quarter
of beef.