The Lancaster ledger. [volume] (Lancaster, S.C.) 1852-1905, 1855-06-13
AGRICULTURAL.
How ThriftlesS Farmer was Re
formed.


We copy tho following story from one
of DR.. Glen c. Haven's letters to his Son,
published in Life Illustrated:
If you have place for everything, and
Keep it in its place, it you have time to
do business, and do it in its time, you will
find that you will "drive business" instead
Of business driving you, and SO will have
leisure instead of constant worry. 1t pains
ME to see some men undertake any business
of moment. They are Us sure to become
entanged, and thrown on their backs, their
business atop of them, as they are to un-
dertake 1t. Take farming, for instance
Now venture the assertion that two thirds
of all the farmers in this State are burning
green wood this terrible cold weather. Go
into their houses and you hear the sissne
OF the beech, or maple, or elm, as like to the
death dirge of cockroach as can be. Out
ofthe chimney top comes forth smoke dark
N Tartarus, and their wives and hired girls
are cross as bedlam. These men could not
have time to cut their wood and have il
seasoned. Now ! charge it on you that YOU
fail not to have time to do all that you un.
dertake--in order. Every day accidents,
casualties. catastrophes, providcnces are tn
king place, because men. women and chill
dren have not time to do things as they
ought to be done. mist tell yol story
which is fact. When was boy, there
lived in my native village f.mily by the
name Of Wilson. There were four bows
and four girls, and they were exceedingly
gifted. Not one of them was there, who
did not rank in beauty intellect and person.
al physical power good way above medic.
Gritty. They all had more than common ed.
ucational requirements, for they learned
easily. The girls all married early, and to
young men Of high promise. The men all
married. and to respectable women. Yet
all remained poor, their failure was directly
attributable to a want Of order Not one OF
them was ever known to do thing in its
place--with one exception, and he is tho
hero of my story. OF one Of the girls |
may trutbfully say, that for thirty-fve years
she has never seen the sunrise, always 60
ng TO bed past midnight and rising past
midday. But to my story. Erastus Wilson
was farmer-a shiftless, slovenly, disorder.
ly slip-shod farmer. The winds and the
waters, the sun and the rain, darkness and
broad day, all conspired to do him HARM
His gates were unhung his hogs noses W. re
nnwrung, his sheep could leap his fences
like wild deer, his cattle were seen with
boards over their eyes, great spiked chains
on their necks, yokes on, "and tied head
and foot" His horses were as thin as q
Rhode Island spare rib--you could see sun.
rise through them. His windows had old
hats, old coats, old newspapers, shingles in.
stead Of glass. His corn was stunted, his
meadows half covered with grass, and a
round 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 p;ous man, but he did everything
at The wrong time and in the wrong way.
Thus he lived until his hair tnrned gray
and poverty sat at his table an acknowledged
member Of his family. Que cold December
day be- going to his barn, and IL hap.
penod that he lifted up bis eyes, and aiar Of
Ia one OF his lots he saw something to him
like deer horns sticking through the top Of
ssnow-drift He was all alive. Flo would
make q conquest, so over the fsrce he leap.
ed and made for the deer. He waded the
drilled and undrifted snow, iill he reached
ths spet, when, behold instead Of the horns
Of buck, there stuck up the i,oo handles Q,
Ms plosef He was very angry, and started
20 90 back when he heard voice az audi
bly, - ever voice spake, ssy, sEsnstas
Wilso1 Scn deserve good aOgsing for
lesfi1e eas plow out In the snow. II Is
~ such heedlsssnesp you have come to