The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-03-27
Bill Arp on Farming.

Atlanta Constitution.
like farmin. 1t is an honest, quiet life, and
it does me so much good to work and get all
over ia a SWEET of perspiration. | enjoy my
umble food and my repose, and get up every
mornin rene wed and rejuvenared like .n eagle
in his flight, or words to that effect. know
shall like it more and more for we have already
passed over the Rubycon, and are beginnin to
reap the rewards of industry. Spring chickens
have got ripe, and the hens keep bloomin on.
Over 200 now respond to my Old 'oman's call
every mornin, as she totes aroun the bread tray
a singin teheeky, teheeky, teheeky. l tell you,
she watches those birds close, for she knows the
value of em. She was raised Methodist she
was, and many time has watched through the
crack of the door sadly, and seen the preachers
helped to the last gizzard in the dish. There
was "a chickens, Z ducks, goslins, IL
turkeys and pigs Matched out last
week, and Daisy had calf and Mollie
a colt besides. This looks like bisness, don't it,
This is what I call successful farmin-multi-
plying and replenishing according to Scrpter.
Then we had plenty of peas and potatoes and
other garden verbs, which helps poor man out,
and by the 4th of July will have wheat bread
and biskit and blackberry pie, and pass regular
declaration of independence.
I like farmin. like latitude and longitude.
When we were penned up in town my children
couldn't have sling shot, or a bow and arrow,
nor chicken fight in the back yard, nor sick a
dog on another dog. nor let off a big Injun
whoop. without some neighbor making a fuss
about it. And then, again, there was show,
or dance, or bazaar, or a missionary meeting
most every night, and it look like the children
were just obleeged to go, or the world would
come to an end 1t was money money, money
all the time, but now there isn't store or a mil
liner shop within five miles of US, and we do our
own work, and have learned what it costs to
make bushel of corn and barrel of flour, and
by the time Mrs. Arp has nursed and raised
lot of chickens and turkeys she thinks much
of 'em she don't want to kill 'em, and they are
heap better and fatter than any we used to
buy. We've got a great big Fireplace in the fam
lily room and can boil the coffee or heat a kettle
of water on the hearth if we want to, for we are
not on the lookout for company all the time like
we used to be. We don't cook half as much as
we used to, nor waste whole parcel every day
on the darkey, and we eat what is set before US,
and are thankful.
It's wonder to me that everybody don't GO to
farming. Lawyers and doctors have to set
about town and play checkers, and talk politics
and wait for somebody to quarrel or fyht or get
sick; clerks and bookkeepers figure and multiply
and count until they get to counting the stars,
and the flies on the ceiling and the peas in the
dish, and the flowers on the paperiLg; the jew
eler sits by his window all the year round,
working on little wheels and the mechanic
strikes the same kind of a lick every day.
These people do not belong to themselves; they
are all penned up like convicts in chain gang;
they can't take day nor an hour for recreation,
for they are the servants of their employers.
There is no profession that gives man such
freedom such latitude and such a variety of
employment as farming.