In the first winter of 1802-3 the only family in the town ship was that of Joseph Garland, embracing himself, his wife and three children, the eldest being scarcely five years old. The names of the children were Orenda, Timothy, Kilby and Minerva. It would interesting to know more of the everyday life of that little family which was left to solitude and snow through that long cold winter than tradition handed down. The days of the preceding summer had been cheered by the presence in the township of those kind-hearted men who had left their work to welcome the coming of the family and escort its members to the little cabin in the forest. The courageous bearing of Mrs. Garland had won their admiration and she could always afterward count on them among her friends, but they had now completed their seasonÕs work and retired from the township.

The last blow had been struck upon the saw-mill, and the echoes of the ringing laugh and cheerful voices of the workmen had ceased.

Left alone in the wilderness it is very easy to imagine that a feeling of loneliness rested upon this very solitary home. If now, discouragement and discontent had constituted the leading elements in the experience of each day. it would excite no surprise in the mind of the reader. To add to the loneliness of the situation, Mr. Garland was obliged to be away from home several weeks on business, leaving his brother Jacob, a boy of sixteen years, to take care of his place in the family. Accident, sickness or even death might visit the snow-bound household.

But neither discouragement, discontent nor fear of misfortune that might happen found place therein.

Mrs. Garland was loyal to the interests of her husband and children. She entertained the convection that faithful care of her family and instruction of her children were the most important of womanÕs duties. This conviction called out the heroic element of her character and raised her to the level of her responsibilities. Her fortitude was sometimes severely taxed by the discomforts of her situation but she met them bravely.

Spring came at length and brought not only sunshine and warmth, but neighbors and companionship, if indeed people whose habitations were separated by several miles of dense forests could be regarded as neighbors and companions. In the month of March, 1803, Wm. Mitchell moved his family from Athens, Maine, into Township number four, now Dexter, and took up his abode in the cabin he had built the preceding autumn. The distance between the houses of the two families was about three miles. An acquaintance sprang up between them which soon ripened into intimacy. In their interchange of visits the women of these families generally rode on horseback guided on their way by spotted lines. Mrs. Mitchell was a woman of resolution. When she could not have the use of a horse, she cheerfully passed the distance on foot. Reared under the influence of the same religious creed, the two women passed many a pleasant day together. The late Mrs. N. P. Smith, a daughter of Mrs. Mitchell, and for many years a resident of Garland, credits Mrs. Garland with the declaration that she never spent a happier season than her first winter in the forest of the new township with her little family.

In her seclusion she sought the companionship of her Bible and other good books which proved the beginning of a new religious experience, the memory of which in subsequent years was a perpetual source of satisfaction.