Pioneer history of Ingham County, compiled and arranged by Mrs. Franc L. Adams, secretary of the Ingham County pioneer and historical society.

DELHI TOWNSHIP AND ITS HISTORY

367

there were pigs in a pen. But money, real money, was a scarce
article.
The few citizens dealt with each other by making exchanges,
one thing for another. Father said they would speak of this as
"dicker." After we had lived on this place some time the neighbors got together and chopped out a road north from the house.
One day my father had taken up a part of the floor and was digging out underneath an apology for a small cellar, a place to put a
few vegetables or set a crock of butter. My mother came in from
the outside quite excited. She had seen an unusual sight. Winding slowly along between the stumps in the new road was a wagon
load of chairs. She said to father, "There's a load of chairs coming and they do not go by this place until I have one." He said,
"What will you pay for it with?" and she said she would find
something. My parents were possessed with determination as
well as other sterling qualities. The chair peddler stopped to
know if they wanted chairs. Mother said, "Have you a rocking
chair?" and he said he had. Mother then asked, "Do you buy
butter?" to which he replied, "Yes, I take most everything."
Father had some good pocket books that he had taken on a debt
from a man in New York. They were made of good leather, with
several pockets and a place for bills. They were really well made
and desirable pocket books. Father offered the peddler some of
those which he was very willing to take. So with the butter and
pocket books the chair was soon bought and paid for, and from
then on was nearly always occupied. In a few years a log house
was built of large basswood logs split in the center and placed with
the round side out, the flat side making a good wall inside. A
really comfortable house. Although other chairs were added
the old rocking chair was taken to the new home and was still of
good service. As time passed the arms were whittled and holes
dug in them by jack knives in the hands of mischievous youngsters.
Owing to the untiring industry and thrifty habits of my parents,
by this time the farm consisted of broad and well tilled acres.
Years passed on, and a commodious and suitable brick house was
built on the farm. Although more modern furniture was provided, still the old rocking chair was not thrown away. After the
death of the dear parents it went to the home of a granddaughter,
and is still in use. It has a new pair of arms, an upholstered seat