The weekly democratic statesman. [volume] (Austin, Tex.) 1871-1883, 1882-08-17
Bob IngersolI In the Light of n
Farmer.

DOU luSerSOl dS al lnAuCi, VI SnNP'
lc, no one questions his eloquencc.
In his late speech to the farmers he
said many things in his best style,
and told the farmers many things
that are we'll worth remembering.
Speaking of the old style farming in
the west and southland that old
style has not entirely passed away
yet-he said:
Everything was done in the
wrong way. 1t was all work and
waste, WEAKNESS and want. They
used to fence a hundred and sixty
acres of land with a couple of dogs.
Everything was left to the protec-
tion of chance, accident and mis-
chance. When l was a farmer they
used to haul wheat two hundred
miles in wagons and sell it for 80
cents a bushel. They would bring
home about three hundred feet of
lumber, two punches of shingles, a
barrel of sal. and a cook stove that
never would draw and never would
bake. In those blessed days the peo-
pie lived on corn and bacon. Cooking
was sn unknown art. Eating was q
necessity, not a pleasure. 1t was
hard work for the cook to keep on
good terms with even hunger.
Referring more directly to the
states of the northwest, he goes on
10 say: We had poor houses. The
rain held the roof in perfect con-
tempt, and the snow drifted joy
fully on the floors and beds. They
had no barns. The horses were kept
in rail pens surrounded with straw.
Long before spring the sides would
be eaten away, and nothing but roofs
would be left. Food is fuel. When
the cattle were exposed to all the
blasts of winter, it took all the corn
anu oats that could be stuffed into
them to prevent actual starvation.
In those days farmers thought the
best place for the pig pen was im-
mediately in front of the house.
There is nothing like sociabIlity.
Women were supposed to know tbe
art of making fires without fuel.
The wood-pile consisted, as general
thing, of one log, upon which an axe
or two had been worn out in vain.
There was nothing to kindle a fire
with.
Pickets were pulled out of the gar
den fence, clap-boards taken from
the house, and every stray plank
was seized upon for kindling.
Everything was workedi in the hard
est way. Everything about the farm
was disagreeable. Nothing was kept
in order. Nothing was preserved.
The wagons stood in the sun and
rain, and the plow rusted in the
fields. There was no leisure, no feel
ing that the work was done. 1t was
all labor and weariness and vexation
of spirit. The crops were destroyed
by wandering herds, or they were
put i'll too late or too early, or they
were blown down, or caught by the
frost, or devoured by bugs, or stung
by flies, or eaten by worms, or car
ried away by birds, or dug up by
gophers, or washed away by floods,
or dried up by the sun, or rotted in
the stack, or heated in the crib, or
they all run to vines, or tops, or
straw, or smut, or cobs. And
when, in spite of all these
accidents that lie in wait be.
tween the plow and the grain
cradle, they did not succeed in rails
ing good crop, and a high price
was offered then the roads would be
impossible, and when the roads got
good then the prices went down.
Everything worked together for
evil.
Nearly every farmers boy took an
oath fhof hn uynnlA nnuoT. to
the soil. The moment they arrived
at the age of twenty-one they left
the desolate and dreary farms and
rushed to the towns and cities They
wanted to be book-keepers, doctors,
merchants, railroad men, insurance
agents, lawyers, even preachers, any
thing to avoid the drudgery of the
farm. Nearly every boy acquainted
with the three R's-reading, writ.
ing and arlthmetic-imagined that
he had altogether more education
than ought to be wasted in raising
potatoes and corn. They made
haste to get into some other bust
ness. Those who stayed upon the
farm envied those who went away.
a few years ago the times were
prosperous, and the young men went
to the cities TO enjoy the fortunes
that were waiting for them. They
wanted to engage in something that
promised quick returns. They built
railways, established banks and in
surance companies. They speculated
in stocks in Wall street and gambled
in grain in Chicago. They became
rich. They lived in palaces. They
pitied their poor brothers on the
farms, and the poor brothers envied
them. But time has wrought its re-
venge. The farmers have seen the
railroad president bankrupt, and
the road in the hands of q receiver
They have seen the bank president
abscond, and the insurance company
wrecked and ruined fraud. The
only solvent people, as a class, the
only independent people, are the
tillers of the soil,
The comforts of the town must be
added to the beauty of the fields
The sociability of the city must be
rendered possible in the country
Farming has been made repulsive
The farmers have been unsociable
and their homes have been lonely
They have been wasteful and care
less. They have not been proud Of
their business. You must beautlfy
your homes. When L was a farmer
it was not fashionable to set out
trees, nor to plant vines. WbeI
you visited the farm you were moi
welcomed by the flowers, and
| hrr
Yellow dogs came bounding ovel
the tumbled fence like wild beasts
There is no sense; there is no profit
in such life. 1t is moi
living. The farmers ought to beau
tify their homes. There should
be trees, and grass, and flowers
and running vines. Everything
should be tept in order; gate:
should be kept on their hinges, and
about all there should be the pleas
ant air of thrift. In every house
there should be a bathroom. The
bath is civilizer, refiner, beauti
fer. When you come from the fields
tired, covered with dust, nothing il
so refreshing. Above all things
keep clean. 1t is not necessary to bt
a pig in order to raise one. In the
cool of the evening, after day il
the field, put on clean clothes, take I
seat under the trees, mid the per
fume of flowers, surrounded by you
family, and you will know what it il
to enjoy life like gentleman.
|
Universal Condemnation.
philadelphia Press.]
| No congress ever passed a meas
ure more universally condemned BY