The Ocala evening star. [volume] (Ocala, Fla.) 1895-1943, 1917-07-26

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cinity of Ocala is that of the Edwards
brothers. You can enter it's bounda-
ries a short distance southwest of the
city limits, and then go on to the
southeast for nearly three miles be-
fore you enter on another mans
land.
One of the notable things about
this farm is that eighty years ago it
was the hunting ground of one of the
most famous Indians in history-Os-
lceola-who shares with King Philip,
Tecumseh and Sitting Bull a reputa-
ion for bravery and generalship
which gave much trouble but was at
the last unavailing against the super
ior force of the white man.
A Star reporter accompanied Mr.
John L. Edwards in his car on visit
to the farm Wednesday afternoon
The route was run out of the city
to and along the Dunnellon road to
the Stokes Ferry fork, and from
there east, to the other side of the big
Munroe & Chambliss farm. Both of
these farms lie on beautiful rolling
country that would delight the eye of
the artist as well as the utilitarian.
The Stokes Ferry road has been
connected about five miles out of
town by a road running thru the
Shady Grove section to the Orange
avenue and Pedro road. 1t runs thru
some of the best farming land and
prettiest rural scenery in the county,
and people out for pleasure rides
should be sure to turn their cars oc-
casionally in that direction.
About two miles from the Dunnel-
lon road, Mr.. Edwards turned his car
from the highroad into the farm, the
centerspot of which seems to be
pretty grove of trees some two hun
dreds yards north of the road. Here
it was that Osceola had his home. His
wigwam stood in this grove, and some
down on the famous Seminole chief
tain as he smoked the pipe, not of
peace, as he planned with his friends
campaign against the intrusive
white man. About five miles away to
the northeast was Fort King, where
80 years ago last Christmas Osceola
struck the first blow of the Seminole
war, which for seven years taxed the
resources of the nation to cope with.
Too much sympathy has been vast
ed on the Seminoles. Infringed up
on by the whites they were, but they
were intruders themselves, driving out
the Florida Indians, the tracks of
whose moccasins were hardly cold in
the land when the Seminoles in their
turn found themselves crowded by the
palefaces.. Osceola was good gen.
eral and probably as much of a pa
triot as many a white man on whom
history has bestowed the same appe-
lation, but all the same he was
bloodthirsty savage, and if Florida
had remained in the hands of him and
his kind it would have been of no
more use to the world than Arabia,
Afghanistan or any otheri region
where barbarians hold full sway.
Osceola's homeplace may have
looked more romantic eighty years
ago, but certainly not so useful. For
that, the neat buildings amid the tall
trees were a pretty sight themselves
and doubtless far more sanitary than
any Indian village ever was.
There was big barn, pumping
station, and some other buildings, all
in the best of order, but the most in
teresting sight was the silos. There
is regular battery of them, their
muzzles pointing like the muzzles of
huge cannon at the demon of war
famine. The cement cups for two more
were laid, and the material for their
walls was stacked up nearby, ready to
be put in place.
Blessed be the man who invented
the silo-he did more for civilization
than all the Michael Angeles, Beetho-
vens, Ciceros and such notable guys
put together. The silo is to the stock
raiser what the preserve jar is to the
housewife; only the housewife must
Theoretically seal her preserve jar,
while the silo can be left open. 1t is
generally covered, but it does the feed
no harm if it isn't.
The whole works were there in
sight. There was a forest of corn,
two forty acre tracts, the blades from
the outside rows brushing the silos,
or they did before the cutting began.
There was the harvester, pulled by
three mules, going down one row and
coming back the next, and leaving
the cut corn piled in even punches all
along. There were big wagons, drawn
by sturdy mules and engineered by
husky farmhands, hustling the corn
to the silos. BY one silo stood the
cutter, driven by powerful little
gasoline engine. As fast as the wag-
ons came up, their loads were dumped
by the cutter. The men operating
the cutter fed the stalks, ears, leaves