Smyrna times., 1884-11-05
A Ten-aore Farm,
AND WHAT CAME OF IT: COLLEGE
AND FOREIGN TRAVEL.

AND WHAT CAME OF IT: COLLEGE
AND FOREIGN TRAVEL.
My friend and ! had been talking
about the growing tendency in Ameri-
ca to a return to country life, and then
| learned for the first time that his was
but ten-acre farm, or had been for
twenty-five years, until three years
ago, when five more acres were added
to it.
"And do you really mean," said,
" that off these ten acres you have
supported your family, and in rugged
New England ?"
Yes; and sent the two elder boys
to college, for the Junior and Senior
years and had, with my wife, a trip to
Europe"
The memory of the thOusand-acre
farms mad seen in the West rose up
very vividly beside this toy affair, and
l frankly confessed to my friend that
his ways and their results were beyond
my understanding.
"Well," he said, There is a great
deal in choosing the work we are best
fitted to do. | like farming, and do
not like the noise of the world. So /
chose farming for my work. Then,
when | left college and w&s casting
about for the clearest road on which to
settle, stumbled upon a good number
of young men returned from the West,
bankrupt i'll almost everything but
their OlOquence to plead against emf
grafton Westward. In the East, they
said, we hear of the one man who is a
success, but almost never of the hun
drcds who are failures. And 50 it was
perhaps in this way that ! was led to
conclude that a few acres cultivated,
every foot, and with neighbOrs, and
schools, and churches, and doctors,
and middle-men or near markets, and
i'll Il healthful neighborhOod, was a
better outlook than many acres in the
West, all studded over with chills and
fever traps and loneliness. So, starting
with patrimOny of 81 900, l paid $500
for this place--its owners, unable to
make living, had gone West-and /
spent 81, 200 more in repairing and
furnishing. | brought my bride to it
one Summer morning, and told her we
had the farm, the interest Of $1,000 and
our faith to start life with"
Bnt the surprising thing is not
that you have done so much with so
little, but that you have done it on
WOrn-out soil
"That the New England soil is worn
out, is the most amusing argument
that is ever presented against New
England farming. The soil is not
worn out, and is only hard by compar-
ison with Western virgin soil. Old
England is smallar than the State of
New y Ork, and has been feeding her
millions for centuries, and exporting
as well. Germany sends to great
America cargOes of vegetables, and,
a fact disgraceful and almost unbeliev-
able, hundreds of barrels of eggs year
ly. Mountainous little Switzerland
takes care of herself, and exports, too
While comparatively small France has
worked over and over again every inch
of her soil, and given to all the world
share of its delicate products. IWish
| could tell you the exact numberZI
have it sOmewhere--of the hundreds of
thousands of chickens raised in France
yearly, and Of the great income there
from"
But all these people, you forget,
are just living; there is no tomorrow
for them"
I don't think the tillers of the soil
in France, for instance, need come to
America to learn the lesson of to-mor-
row. Their tomorrow is assured in
the peacefulness and content, and
quiet industry of to-day. The fact is,
believe, / am coming to the conclu-
sion, that vast territory is not an un-
mitigated blessing. Our young men
are led by it to reach afar off for what
lies unheeded at their very door, and
they are often wrenched to pieces by
the effort. Hundreds of them, after
dreary failures, are now wearing their
lives out on miserly wages, while the
farms of their ancestors are going to
ruin"
But you must confess that fortunes
are not made on farms"
The rest, and peace, and hOmeli-
ness, and healthfulness Of country
life may well be taken in exchange for
the bare dream of fortune, and more
than you think would take them if
they were not crippled by fear to
move n step from their secured crust" +"
"Well! now let us go back and tell
me, pray, how you have brought up a
large family on ten acres?"
1T has been done by industry,
economy, and turning every shadow
Ofan opportunity to advantage. Every
one of us has been producer. Every
thing possible has been made to pro-
duce. Even our two sugar naples
have contributed their share. My eld-
/ est daughter has made bees her study,
! and has n regular market in Boston
and Springfield for her honey. My
! two elder sons when home devoted
themselves especially to the raising of
asparagus and celery, and became
famous in the growing of both. 1t was
for these two vegetables that I have
bought the extra five acres for my two
younger sons, who will be farmers.
Our chickens and our turkeys in Win
ter have steady sale in near cities; and
we sell hundreds of eggs besides. This
very parlor carpet is the result of the
sale of blackberry preserves-berries
gathered on these Franklin hills, where
hundreds of quarts of them yearly go
to waste. You know, perhaps, that
we import from England and Scotland
great quantities of preserves and mar
malade. We have even sent choice
flowers from our conservatory to BOs-
ton florists during the Winter"
"And this reminds me, what do you
do on this ideal farm in Winter?"
"a farm in Winter has disclosed to
me, at least, what possibilities lie in
every human being. Our indoor life
has developed in our children the
most curious talents. The eldest boy
for instance, now studying art, actually
mended when he was home all our
our shoes-the lessons learned through
occasional visits to the village shoe
maker. The second son, who has
elected to be a minister, built that
door in the wall and made the sofa
you are sitting on. Necessity, in fact
has made them so quick to do every,
thing, that calls for outside help, with
us, are almost unknown. As for nv
own Winters / have generally had
three or four lads to teach with my
own sons; and my wife has giveI
music lessons. 1t was, in fact, by these
Winter methods that we got our triI
to Europe"
My friend was apt to become garru
lous when his family and his farm
were under discussion; so here turn
| al aUoU oNvhila to oounpaY.a thinwo