Migrating to Michigan Read Online Free

in 1826,” said the professor. “Let’s go.”
    We all held hands. Professor Tuesday was in the lead. Then it was me, Rachel, Owen, and Mister Adams.
    Once inside the cloud, we started tumbling end-over-end. Lights flashed by us and Owen sneezed again. Mister Adams tried to let go of Owen’s hand, but Owen held on tightly.
    We landed softly in the middle of a thick forest. There were trees, bushes, and grass for as far as we could see. “I thought we were going to see the Erie Canal?” I asked.
    The professor turned to me. “Now is the time for watching and taking notes. There will be time for asking questions later.”
    The professor reached into his white coat and pulled out a compass. Then he started walking south. The forest was so thick that it was hard to walk. We stepped around fallen trees and through thickets of prickly bushes.
    As we walked, Owen stepped in a muddy creek bed. When he tried to get his foot out, he got stuck. We all had to wait patiently while he pulled his shoe from the mud and put it back on his foot. From then on, his shoe made squishy sounds with every step.
    â€œOwen,” Rachel said, “can’t you do anything right?”
    â€œIt’s not my fault,” he answered. “I didn’t mean to get my foot stuck.”
    Mister Adams held up his finger to his lips.
    â€œMister Adams is right,” said the professor. “We should be quiet.”
    When we came to the top of a high hill, the professor stopped and pointed down to the valley below. There it was, the Erie Canal. The canal was a long and narrow strip of water. It was so long we couldn’t see either end of it. Owen and Rachel started scribbling in their journals. They wanted to record everything they were seeing.
    The professor was right, it was a beautiful day. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The water in the canal sparkled in the sunlight. All was quiet except for the sound coming from the small town on the other side of the Erie Canal.
    Boats and barges were moving along the waterway in both directions. They were being pulled by teams of horses that walked along the banks. Just below us, a boat entered something that looked like a long box with stone sides. As we watched, the boat seemed to rise. Then the young man who was driving the horses snapped the reins. Next, the horses pulled the boat to another big box where it rose again and continued up the canal.
    Professor Tuesday reached into his coat pocket and took out some binoculars. We all took turns looking at the waterway and the town below. Some boats were carrying people, others carried barrels and boxes.
    â€œLook around carefully,” said the professor. “There is much to see and learn here, but we can’t stay long.”
    Off in the distance, a wagon made its way along a dirt road on the other side of the waterway. Clouds of dust were coming from its wheels as it bumped along. It looked like the wagon was heading for the town by the canal. When I looked through the binoculars, I could pick out the white steeple of a church, some stores, and a few homes along the hillside.
    Even though there were only a few buildings down by the canal, the small town was a beehive of activity. Men were hauling carts toward the dock that ran alongside the bank. It also looked like some adults and children were waiting nearby.

Mister Adams Wanders
Near Buffalo, New York—June 1826
    â€œ T his is a beautiful place,” Owen said as he looked around.
    â€œIndeed it is,” answered the professor. “In the future, there will be homes, villages, and roads dotting this countryside. In 1826, it is very primitive.
    We watched the canal and quietly listened to the sounds of nature for several minutes.
    â€œIt’s time to go back now,” said the professor. “Where’s Mister Adams?” The professor looked upset. “Now, where is that pesky nephew of mine?”
    Owen swallowed with a loud