Monongalia mirror. [volume] (Morgantown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1855, 1854-04-08
Miscellaneous.
From he Me.p Eagland cul.irat0r.
GRANDFATHER's OLD FARM;
AND WHAT WAS DONE WITH IT.

; cors from Maine to Boston, last week,
and found myself upon tho seat with
a ren,lemahly man advanced in years
TO whom las I honor old age) | endeav-
ored TO make myselfagreeable, en- route
After the interchange Of few COM
mop.place remarks, our conversation
turned upon the subject of agriculture
the old and new modes Of farming, ETC.,
and subsequently, ascertained that my
venerable acquaintance was most in
tellipen. farmer, who had retired in his
old ace upon pol, competency. AS we
dashed along in the cars he entertained
me with the substance of the following
narrative; the details Of which he assu'
red me had transpired within his own
knowledge.
"Speaking of the exciting progress
and improvements in agriculture" said
Ihe, reminds me Of an instance that oc'
curred within my remembrance, which
Ii will relate, to you; if you are dispo-
sed to hear it." l thanked him. and he
proceeded on nearly as follows:
"Some forty years or more ago, a
neighbor Of mine in c., Mr.,
Smith occupied an immense tract OF
Hand, which he called a farm 1t was
about thirty rods in width, and upwards
of two miles in length; 'an old Indian
4 grant as it was termed; upon which he
had been brought up farmer and
where his father and grandfather, and
great grandfather had lived before him.
Each generation Of the Smiths that !,
had dweIt upon this strip Of land, had
contrived to farm it, each in the same
'old way year in and year out, from
father to son. The place had never
known q dollars incumbrance; scores OF
Smiths had been reared upon it, gener,
alton after generation came and passed
away there, and the same cart paths
the same dilapida,ed old walls and fen.
ces, the identical sheds and shanties and
ldecayed trees were still visible-almosl
,hs sans f;,rrow bad been turned for 1
hundred years, andimore; when.as had
been the custom of the Smith families
on previous occasions, it finally came
the turn of the occupant to resign
Grandfather's old place to his only son
Ben Smith, now come to thirty.
For fve, and forty wears at least Beni's
fatber had carried on this old farm
In ali that long period, and regular a.
il,e wear rolled round. SO regular had
Mr.. Smith plowed up his eight acres
moved all the grassythat Providence
would grow for him, pastured his len
sheep, reared his four head OF cattle
fattened his three hogs, andlwlnteret
as many cows. But this was not eil'
True, Mr.. Smith had a great farm
He toiled like trooper, from dayligh
till dark. He raised his own pork ant
corn, (such as it was, his cattle and fod
der, cut from his own forest the woot
that he burned; !; never owed any mar
farthing. He contriyed even to pa!
his own town and county tax. But, he
was literally even with the world TO
he owed no one, no one otred htm a dot
ldr.' And SO he lived up to seventy.
Ben," said tho old man to his son
onesevening, as they sat before the WIN
tiers fire. getting old. I've worked
pooty hard, here, far good many years
and ! have concluded !, to give up A1'
your turn now
"My turn for whatP' asked Ben
"To take charge Of the Farm, Ben
You're young, stout and healthy. Pm
going to give up the homestead to you
aud if you continue to labor constantly
as I've done, and as your graa1nddiathe!
have did. afore us-yoa eau get go,0,f;
livin' off ont as we have done. W;
can't take no,hin' out of this world witt
us, Ben. Naked we came into it ant
SO must go out. But the old place Il
free from incumbrance, there never was
q dollar mortgage on it. and lhope there
never will be, l shall give you the
farm,,free and clearto-morrow."
Ben slept on this, and next day he
was master of "a farm thirty rods wide
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