Ours was the prairie district out West, where we had gone to grow up with the country. I believe that nearly every farmer for miles around moved to the neighborhood at the same time, and that my father’s wagons headed the procession. I have heard that most of them gathered about him on the way, and as he preached from his wagon wherever night overtook him, and held camp-meetings on Sundays, he attracted a following of men travelling the same road who did not know themselves where they were going, although a few of the number started with him, among them my mother’s father and his family. When he came to a place that suited him, he picked out the land he wanted--which any man was free to do …
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