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The School secured by gift and purchase some five hundred acres of the Scrub, later increased to thirteen hundred. Into this Scrub one day marched "Merri," later and still "The Boss," with a gang of boys, opening up the trail with their axes. Through this trail, later on, came mule-drawn wagons, carrying sections of a two-room, knock-down house and a larger dwelling of the same type. At the trail's end a clearing had been made and here these first of the Colony buildings were set up. Pioneer days were come again. "The Boss" and seven boys began their life in the wilderness of scrub.

In those early days a friend drove out to see "Merri" whose whole name is Frank G. Merithew. The two of them sat on the little open porch of the two-room shack where "Merri" and several of his boys lived. The sound of the axes of the boys clearing the scrub struck through the incessant humming of an army of "Jersey skeeters" than which none has a finer reputation for aggressive viciousness. The clearing was not large; on every side the view was limited by the monotony of the scrub; the whole setting was void of attraction. The visitor had a feeling of being buried in the wilderness. So they sat and talked and slapped mosquitoes.

"Merri," finally said the visitor, "How on earth can you stand it out here? What do you expect to make out of all this sand and scrub with these boys? Why did you give up your school work to come out to this God-forsaken wilderness? It's the loneliest place I ever saw. It's hopeless. And (slap) these mosquitoes!" And Merri, the builder, quietly replied, "I don't see what you see."

He had caught the vision. The scrub had been pushed back until only its green edge showed against the horizon. Hundreds of acres which it had covered for uncounted years were now ready to yield their harvest. The knock-down shacks had disappeared. A village stood in the center of a great farm. Cattle pastured in the fields. The stys were full of baby pigs. The chickens scratched and cackled in their yards and eggs were plentiful. There were roads where there had been but paths; lawns and flowers where only scrub oak had grown before. There was a blacksmith shop; a machine shop; a carpenter shop; other shops. All that a village must have for the comfort and happiness of the villagers was there. He and his boy-men had created it; torn it out of the worthless scrub.

This was the vision he revealed to his friend as they sat that day, twenty-one years ago, on the little porch of his two-room shack in the midst of the Scrub, slapping mosquitoes.

Several years later his friend stood with him at the edge of the greatly enlarged clearing. The Training School had sent an increasing number of boys to the Colony. One of these was Joe. He was in his twenties, over six feet tall, a fine woodsman, kindly, with a mentality of twelve years. He was a leader among the boys, physically and mentally. He had in charge a group of low-grade boys. They were gathering up the light brush left after the removal of the trees, piling it up, stimulated by the promise of a bonfire later on. One of the boys, with less than two years intelligence, had tottered slowly to where "The Boss" and his friend stood. He speech was inarticulate; his look vacant. His jabbering stopped as Joe called out "Pick 'em up, Jamie, pick 'em up." He turned slowly to look at Joe. Again came the "Pick 'em up, Jamie." Then, as his remote consciousness connected with the idea, he trudged off a few steps, stopped, bent over, every motion that of extreme old age, picked up a single twig, straightened up and bore it laboriously to the pile. He placed it there with great care and tottered away. His day's work was done. He had contributed his mite but into it he had put the utmost strength of his mind and body. Who shall say that, as the bonfire blazed and roared, the brightest flame and the loudest roar to Jamie, did not come from his twig? Even he, the lowliest of them all, had his place in the Colony sun.

The Colony, child of The Training School, grew and prospered. The clearing expanded, year by year. Permanent buildings, most of them of concrete blocks made by the boys, replaced the knock-down shacks. Into whatever activity common labor entered, -- clearing, ditching, draining, -- planting, sowing, reaping, -- excavating, hauling, building, -- dairying, -- stock-raising, -- road building, -- bedmaking, sweeping, scrubbing, dishwashing, -- it was furnished by the boys, supervised and directed by Merri and his helpers.

While the spirit of play pervaded their work to a remarkable degree, recreation was provided as an essential element for their contentment and happiness. In the early days the frequent celebrations and entertainments at The Training School, birthday parties, Sunday Assembly, Store Days, holiday festivals, pageants, shows, found the "Colony Boys" on hand and taking part. Colony floats were prominent in the pageants. Drawn by gaily decorated Colony mules, driven and manned by grotesquely costumed Colony boys, they displayed the Colony's products and its life. Days and weeks of preparation had given diversion and fun and brought into play a surprising ingenuity. After-supper rides in the wagons to attend a show or party at the School were rewards for good behavior.