Burlington free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1827-1865, 1855-06-01
\ GR | Gu LTU II A l.
How ThrinIes. Farmer wa. Reformed.

]
The following story is from one Of Dr.
| Glen c. IIavon's Letters to his Son, published
in Life illustrated
If you have place for every thing, and
| keep it in its place, if you have t,nr to do
| business, md do it in its time, you will find
/ that you will " drire business instead Of
/ business driving you, and 80 will have leisure
instead Of constant worry. 1t pains me to
ace some men undertake any business or
moment They are as sure to become entan.
! gled, and thrown on their backs, their busi-
! ness atop Of them, as they are to undertake.
it. Take farming for instance Now VEN
ture the assertion that two-thirds Of all the
farmers in his State are burning green wood
this terrible cold weather 60 into their
houses, and you hear the sssing Of the beech
or maple, or elm, like to the death-dirre
| OF cock-roach a can he. Out of the Chin
ney top. come forth smoke dark as Tartarus.
and their wives and hired girls are cross A,
! bedlam. These men could not find time to
cut their wood and have it seasoned Now
| charge 1t on you, that you fail not to hare
time 70 do all that you undertake-in order.
Every day accidents, casualties, catastrophes
providence. are t,king place, because men,
women and children have not time to do
things as they ought TO be done must tell
you story-which is a fact. When was
n boy, there lived in my native village a
family by the name of Wilson. There were
four boys and four girls, and they were
exceedingly gifted. Not one of them wa.
there who did not rank in beauty, intellect
and personal physical power a good way
above mediocrity. They all had more than
common educational requirements for they
learned easily. The girls all married early,
and to young men Of high promise. Yet all
f,i il,,ra
attributable to uant OF order. Not one Of
them was ever known to do a thing in it.
time, nor have thing in its pldce-with one
exception, and he i. the hero of nv story-
| OF one of the girl. may say truthfullv that
for over thirty-fve years she has nerer seen
the sun 'ise, always going to bed past mid
night and rising past midday. But to my
story. Erastus Wilson was a farmer-a
shiftless, slovenly, disordery, slip-shod far
mer. Tho winds and the waters, the sun and
rain, darkness and broad day, all conspired
to do him harm. His gates were unhung,
hls hogs noses were unwrung, his sheep
could leaphls fences like wild deer, his cattle
were unseen with boards over their eyes, great
spiked chains on their necks, pokes on, and
- tied head and foot" His horses were a,
thin as Rhode Island spare rib--you could
see sunrise through them. HIS windows had
old hats, old coats, old newspapers, and
stunted, his meadows half covered with grass,
and around and about him the spirit of decay
seemed to brood. Yet he worked hard did
not drink, nor gamble, nor quarrel In fact,
he was piouS man, but he did everything
at the wrong time and in the wrong way.
Thus he lived until his hair turned gray.
and poverty sat at his table an ackpo wledged
member Of his family. One cold December
day he was going to hi. barn, and it hap
pened that he lifted up his eyes, and afar OF
in one of his lots he saw something that
looked to him like deer horn, sticking
through the top Of the snow-drift He was
all alive. He would make conquest-so
over the fenco he leaped and made for the
deer. lie waded the drifted and uudrifted
snow TIL he reached the spot, when, behold
instead of the horns of a buck, there stuck
up the tco handirJ Of has pio,r. lie was very
angry, and started to 20 back, when he said
he heard voice as audibly as ever voice
spake, say, g. Erastus Wilson, you deserve
good fogging for leaving your plow out in
the snow. 1t is by such heedles.nes. YOU
have come to poverty. Pick up your plow
and take it TO the barn"
He Immediately set about 1t, and By what
means he did it he never could tell. B9,
through that deep snow and over the drifts
he dragged the implements to the barn Once
there, he took raw hide, stripped himself
naked, and addressed himself:
"Erastus Wilson, you are mean, dirty,
poyerty-stricken man. Al your long liis
you have been too lazy 70 sav. what you
have earned, or too careless to do it. You
deserve a fogging Here is your plow
whose handles you could never see. till
you thought them tho horns Of deer,
then you could wade drifts waist deep to -e.
them. You deserve good fogging, you
careless block khead, and you shall have it -
and he laid the raw hide on to his body, leg.
and feet, till he raised great whales, he skip
ping around the hoor naked and screaming,
while he would say, " Leave your plow out
will you Pretty farmer you are, aint you
| III see if can't teach you better" Thus
he dogged himself most .ounlly. dressed
| himself, and went in, From that logging he
came forth a changed man. He wa. prompt,
orderly, saving, and up with the times
! His neighbors were surprised. His family
were wonder struck, lie began 10 thrive,
and in less than three year. his farm, his
flock and herds all bore the evidence of being
under the guidance Of spirit whose ener-
gies were Of the amplest order. About this
time he sickened and died.