The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1883-03-10
HOW / BECAME A FARMER.

1t was getting dark. But through the
bushes, along the muddy road l coulC
see house ahead, and limped TOWARD
it, though had little hope that the peo
pie there would receive me.
All! how discouraged, hungry and
footsore was that night! Every steF
was torture. If I-had had my choice to
live or die, honestly think would have
preferred the latter. .l
1t was a low, small. one-story house,
weather-beate and dilapidated. Two
of the front windows were boarded up
and the other two had half the glass
panes broken out. OFF to the left was a
still more dilapidated barn, the great
doors of which were propped up, Not
only the yard fence, but all the fences in
sight, were shattered and falling down.
The place, saw at a second glance,
was uninhabited, and from the forest OF
tall dry thistles before the house door, ]
judged that it had not been occupied for
a long time, At least, I thought, shall
not be denied nights lodging here. O..
There was fireplace in the rear OF
the room, and after shouting to make
sure that no one was about to object, /
built a prodigious fire, and going to the
barn, fetched in armfuls of old straw
there and made bed for myself,
l was hungry, yet still more tired, and
after time / fell asleep.
WHERE 1 CAME FROM.
In the spring of 1874, was as home
less and houseless as anybody in Boston.
was nineteen. My mother was dead,
and my father, a crippled sailor, was
an inmate of charitable institution.
The previous summer had driven an
ice-cart, and had saved enough to carry
me partly through the winter. But l
could not get another job. If there is
anything in this whole world which will
try ones soul, it is to hunt a job week
after week and month after month, and
be met always by that one cold reply,
-''Not wanted.h
BY February my money was all spent.
Up to that time had not the least idea
of leaving the city and trying the coun-
try, for | knew nothing of it. But |
knew brakeman named Leavett, on
the Boston & Maine Railroad, who had
an uncle living in the town of b, up
in New Hampshire. This uncle, Leav-
EFT said, wanted hand on his farm, and
he thought l could get the place. He
gave me line to him, and got me free
ride ON the night freight with him to
Exeter From Exeter walked to B,
but when arrived the place was filled.
Hardly knowing what to do, went
on inquiring for work, and had been
wandering two days when l came to the
old deserted house. Here i stayed dur
ing the night.
My waking, was not very CHEEKY the
next morning. was wretchedly cold,
and if | had been faint and hungry the
night before, j was hungrier now. The
weather, too, had turned foggy and wet.
Drearily and not without some pain,
got up and looked about the inside of
the old house. The bare, smoked and
unplastered rooms were the picture OF
desolation. No wonder, thought, that
the previous inhabitants had abandoned
the place. Though there was little in
ducement to tarry longer, there was still
less to go on, seeking work where no
one wanted to hire; and for the first time
the idea of staying here entered my
mind. This was what / thought: Here
is house and here is farm. They are
deserted. If nobody else wants them,
why cannot / have them and make a
home of tEemp d
MY FIRST JOB IN THE COUNTRY.
But whether l lived, here, OF not,
wanted something to eat, and 1 set of
along the road to farmhouse, painted
red. AS l drew near, clatter of forks
andspoons assured me that the folks
were at breakfast. The outer door was
aiar, Istepped up and tapped at it.
Come in," some one called out.
l entered and said, Good morningr'
but no one responded.
''Do you wish to hire any helpP' |
asked, addressing myself to the man Of
the house.
'Be you the chap that had fire in
the old house down below here last
.nightPa,.' the map inquired.
yes" said. "Do you know who
owns itp''
That's hard telling" he answered.
''Rufe Bartlett lived there last. But old
man Smith to Boston, had a mortgage OF
it; and l guess the mortgage has got it
by this time"
"Do you think this Mr.. Smith