We were all pleased when we got into the new house. We had a sand
door-yard, and lived near the centre of our place. East of this house, on
the little ridge, we raised our first patch of-water-melons, in Michigan.
Father said they raised good melons on Long Island, where it was sandy
soil, and he thought he could raise good ones there. He tried, and it
proved to be a success; the melons were excellent. When they were ripe
father borrowed the cart, picked a load of melons and (just before
sundown) started for Detroit. Mother and my little Michigan sister,
Abbie, went with us. I think it was the first time mother saw Detroit
after she left it, on the morning following her first arrival there. She
wished to do some trading, of course. Father and I walked. We took a
little hay to feed the oxen on the road. The next morning we reached
Detroit. The little market then stood near where the "Biddle House" now
stands, or between that and the river.

Father sold his melons to a Frenchman for one shilling apiece. The market
men said this was the first full load of melons ever on Detroit market;
at all events, I know it was the first load of melons ever drawn from the
town of Dearborn.

Mother's youngest sister lived in the city, and was at the store of Mr.
Cook, or "Cook & Burns," where we did some of our trading. Their store
was on Jefferson avenue. Mr. Cook was an eccentric man, and had his own
way of recommending his goods, and one which made much sport. Auntie
called for some calico. Mr. Cook took a piece off the shelf, threw it on
the counter, threw up both arms, put his hands higher than his head, then
picked it up again shook it and said: "There, who ever saw the like of
that in Michigan? Two shillings a yard! A yard wide, foot thick and the
colors as firm as the Allegheny Mountains!"