In 1846, and the years immediately following, the writer was an occasional listener to stories of pioneer life in Garland from the lips of the pioneers. These stories were of tedious journeyings to the township while yet it was part of a wilderness of many miles in extent--sometimes in mid-winter on sleds drawn by slow moving teams, when men, women and children were assailed by pitiless blasts and drifting snows Ð sometimes on horseback, when rider with his scant supply of food and clothing closely packed in a leather bag, pursued his lonely way, guided by spotted lines--sometimes on foot when the maker of a future home, with his bundle dangling from the handle of the axe across his shoulder made slow progress towards the township of his choice: and sometimes a part of the little journey was performed on rude fishing smacks, manned by drunken sailors, when the passengers were in constant peril of being consigned to watery graves. Graphic descriptions were given of hastily constructed cabins, where chilly snows driven by wintry blasts entered unbidden, destitute of every convenience that makes housekeeping attractive--with hand to hand contests with the stern old forest that had withstood the storms of centuries, for the possessions of a cleared space whereon to make a home and secure the crops for the subsistence of the family-- of painful, and often final separation from relatives and friends, and deprived, even, of communication with them except at long and uncertain intervals, when the nearest post-office was twenty-five miles away and could be reached only on foot or horseback and the postage on two letters would cost a healthy woman the wages of a full week--of struggles with debts in a region destitute of currency--of burdens of building roads and bridges without the power of levying taxes--of destitution of schools and religious privileges, which in a New England community were esteemed as among the most precious legacies of New England citizenship.

It must not be inferred, however, that to the early settlers, life in the wilderness, invested as it was with privations and hardships, was devoid of enjoyment. They were robust, earnest, courageous men. The grand old forest which covered their rude cabins was a constant inspiration to noble endeavor. They had an important and well defined end to accomplish, which was nothing less than to subdue the wilderness that had covered the haunts of the moose, the wolf and the bear, and replace it with the institutions of civilization. They came to lay the foundation of a typical New England community, which, in due time, would become a constituent part of an independent state.

In their visions of the future, they saw the wilderness retiring step by step before their vigorous assaults, to give place to fields of waving grain, to pastures covered with flocks and herds, and orchards laden with fruit. They saw attractive and convenient houses in place of log-cabins and rude huts. They saw those characteristic institutions of New England, the church and the schoolhouse, smiling from the hilltops and nestling in the valleys. They saw, also, the New England town meeting, where the capable and ambitious would be called to places of honor and trust, and the humblest citizen would have a voice on all questions of local policy. All these things came within the range of their expectations and each step in the actual present towards the realization of the ideal future afforded satisfaction and encouragement.