Most of these were some big
fact in nature that thrilled her, usually expressed in Biblical
terms; for the Bible was read twice a day before the family and
helpers, and an average of three services were attended on Sunday.
Mrs. Porter says that her first all-alone effort was printed in
wabbly letters on the fly-leaf of an old grammar. It was entitled:
"Ode to the Moon." "Not," she comments, "that I had an idea what an
`ode' was, other than that I had heard it discussed in the
family together with different forms of poetic expression. The
spelling must have been by proxy: but I did know the words I used,
what they meant, and the idea I was trying to convey.
"No other farm was ever quite so lovely as the one on which I was
born after this father and mother had spent twenty-five years
beautifying it," says the author. It was called "hopewell" after
the home of some of her father's British ancestors. The natural
location was perfect, the land rolling and hilly, with several
flowing springs and little streams crossing it in three directions,
while plenty of forest still remained. The days of pioneer
struggles were past. The roads were smooth and level as floors, the
house and barn commodious; the family rode abroad in a double
carriage trimmed in patent leather, drawn by a matched team of gray
horses, and sometimes the father "speeded a little" for the delight
of the children. "We had comfortable clothing," says Mrs. Porter,
"and were getting our joy from life without that pinch of anxiety
which must have existed in the beginning, although I know that
father and mother always held steady, and took a large measure of
joy from life in passing.
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