Once, as I was climbing over the fence with a hatful of apples, this dog, which had started for me, caught me by the seat of the pantaloons, and while I clung to the top of the fence he literally tore them from my legs, but fortunately did not touch my flesh.

I got away with the apples, however, by tumbling over to the opposite side of the fence with them.
It was at LeClair that I acquired my first experience as an equestrian.
Somehow or other I had managed to corner a horse near a fence, and had climbed upon his back.

The next moment the horse got his back up and hoisted me into the air, I fell violently to the ground, striking upon my side in such a way as to severely wrench and strain my arm, from the effects of which I did not recover for some time.

I abandoned the art of horsemanship for a while, and was induced after considerable persuasion to turn my attention to letters--my A, B, C's--which were taught me at the village school.
My father at this time was running a stage line, between Chicago and Davenport, no railroads then having been built west of Chicago.

In 1849 he got the California fever and made up his mind to cross the great plains--which were then and for years afterwards called the American Desert--to the Pacific coast.