Early in her married life she had met a Scotch
lumberman, who told her of the swamp and of securing fine timber
there for Canadian shipbuilders, and later when she had moved to
within less than a mile of its northern boundary, she met a man who
was buying curly maple, black walnut, golden oak, wild cherry, and
other wood extremely valuable for a big furniture factory in Grand
Rapids. There was one particular woman, of all those the author
worked among, who exercised herself most concerning her. She never
failed to come out if she saw her driving down the lane to the
woods, and caution her to be careful. If she felt that Mrs. Porter
had become interested and forgotten that it was long past meal
time, she would send out food and water or buttermilk to refresh
her. She had her family posted, and if any of them saw a bird with
a straw or a hair in its beak, they followed until they found its
location. It was her husband who drove the stake and ploughed
around the killdeer nest in the cornfield to save it for the
author; and he did many other acts of kindness without
understanding exactly what he was doing or why. "Merely that I
wanted certain things was enough for those people," writes Mrs.
Porter. "Without question they helped me in every way their big
hearts could suggest to them, because they loved to be kind, and to
be generous was natural with them. The woman was busy keeping house
and mothering a big brood, and every living creature that came her
way, besides.
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