USA > Indiana > Boone County > History of Boone County, Indiana : With biographical sketches of representative citizens and genealogical records of old families, Volume I > Part 48
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WHAT THEY SAY OF US.
It is a good thing to know what other people think and say about us. An individual or community is not of much force unless they will say and do things that will set others to talking. In this respect Boone county is all right, for she was talked about when she was back in the woods; and as soon as she began to level down the trees and let in a little sunshine there was all the more talk until her name became a household word in every home. Her sister county, Posey, down on the river, came in as a rival in this reputation. It went all over Hoosierdom that Posey county was noted for its pumpkins and hoop-poles, and it was said of Boone county that her people were web- footed. We never did believe either of these stories yet they were out and they helped these counties to grow; and to become the leading counties of the state. Posey leading in the culture of wheat and Boone in the front ranks of the state in the cultivation of corn. It illustrates the old saying that you will never be much account until people give you a good round of free advertising. It does not matter much what they say so it attracts the public ear.
In the eastern part of Indiana there are plenty of hills, so that some
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farms have two sides, the vertical as well as the top surface. When ma- chinery came into use on the farm, people began to look around for level farms. Of course they came to Boone and you should hear their stories when they returned. We have heard more than one state that the land in this county was so level that the water had to run up hill to get off. About the time that it was half-cleared and before there was a law to force outlets for drainage, a person from the hill country investigating here, would go home and tell his neighbors that there was no way to drain Boone county
because it was nothing but one succession of bogs and swamps. They would say that there was no way to go about until they made pontoon bridges over the swamps. Of course, there was some truth in these stories, and the early settlers here had a tough time of it at the start. They did have plenty of water before the drainage system was initiated and they did have to build corduroy roads in many places before they could get about.
We knew a family in Union county, 1852, that visited friends in this county. They first visited in Montgomery county and came into Boone from the southwest aiming for Lebanon by way of Jamestown. Now it chanced at that time it was a rainy season and Boone was in her glory. Any one acquainted with the roads from Jamestown to Lebanon in the early fifties during a rainy season, they would just smile and turn the head at the thought of strangers trying to navigate them in a one horse buggy. It would take a week to tell the story. Those folks after they returned to Union, never did get through talking about that journey through Boone. When they got out of the mud on to a strip of the corduroy, they called it glory road. It was bump-i-ty-bump and shook them up a bit; but they had the blessed assurance that there was a bottom and they would not sink. All day long they enjoyed the pleasure ride and reached Lebanon at sunset. Uncle Samuel Strong smiled on them when they remarked that the roads were not very good. The rains continued and they shut up in an ark at Lebanon until the flood subsided and the waters were assuaged. Their description of Lebanon, at that time would hardly be recognized at this day ; and some might think that it was colored, so we deem it wise to omit the coloring. Any one living at that date would take the story for granted rather than run the risk to give it a personal investigation.
We have a letter in our possession written by Willis Sullivan giving a description of Boone county in the late forties that makes a picture of past
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glories. Whether Willis was a brother or relative of Pat Sullivan, who claims to be the first white settler in the county we cannot tell, but we know him to be a traveler. He was at Alamo, Texas, just a few days before it was captured and its defenders were killed. He had been all over our west- ern coast and of South America and lived in Peru many years. He had also been in all of our southern states. In his travels he had taken in the county of Boone. He would not have been a finished traveler without this latter sight-seeing. Hear his comment: "I have been all along our southern and western coasts and made land trips across the continent and all along the coast of Central and most of South America and pretty well over Boone county, but I never saw a country in all my travels that seemed so unlikely to become a suitable place for happy prosperous homes."
If Mr. Sullivan would visit us now, he would have to change his opinion. This statement speaks volumes, for the push and energy of our people that could so soon change an uninhabitable wilderness into a very Eden of homes. We could multiply these stories indefinitely, also give pictures from the memory of many of our citizens that are in keeping with what outsiders say of us.
We will publish here a letter, that was written twenty-eight years ago, which explains how this country was changed from an almost uninhabitable wilderness into the beautiful country that we now enjoy.
THEN AND NOW.
(By Sol Sering, of Ward Post Office.)
The writer of this sketch was born in Liberty, Union county, Indiana, on March 29, 1837. While thinking of the past, our mind runs back into the forties and we remember of hearing grandfather and grandmother Dun- bar tell of their trip to Boone county to see the country. They came on horse-back to Jackson township, which was at that time an almost unbroken wilderness. There were no roads and they rode through the woods as best they could and camped at night, using their saddles for pillows. They had to keep a fire burning to keep the wolves away. There were only two houses (both log), between Lebanon and Jamestown, one at the farm then owned
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by Strodder Wall, now owned by M. M. Henry, the other at the farm of Meiken Hurt, now owned by J. M. Martin.
In February, 1837, grandfather entered the land we now live on with several other pieces. He gave my father this and the land now owned by Wash Emmert. Father made regular trips to Boone to pay his taxes. This required two weeks and we children were always anxious for his return to hear him tell about the west. As we grew up we had an anxiety to see some of the world. In August, 1860, we packed our carpet bag, walked sixteen miles to Centerville, the nearest station, and for the first time we boarded the cars for a ride. In due time we arrived at Crawfordsville and for a week took in the sights of the mighty west in that vicinity. Again taking our carpet bag in hand, we started on foot for the long heard of land of ponds and frogs, with a few chills mixed in.
We followed the state road to Fredericksburg, thence to Beckville and just one-half mile east of the latter place we struck the "Promised Land." O Lord, we thought, if this be Boone, we don't want any more of it. The farther we got into the country the harder it looked. From Shiloh church west it was almost a wilderness, or at least we thought so, but here and there we saw a cabin with a small clearing around it. As we passed along the children would perch upon the rude fence to get a good look at us, while the mother looked at us from the inside of the door. The hazel brush came up to the road on either side. As we were passing up the road west of Shiloh, we were startled by some one saying, "Good morning, stranger, come out and get some blackberries to eat." He was a tall, raw-boned man, with an ax on his shoulder. We sized him up and thought it was no use to run. We soon found that he was from old Union county. His name was Shelby and he did his part in building up the country in which he lived. After resting we trudged on and for the first time saw Jackson township. We staid a week with uncle George Sering on the farm that Shiloh church stands on, now owned by Budd Jones.
Our uncle came out from Union county in 1849, and has lived in Boone nearly all the time since. We believe he has done as much hard work to build up the country as any other man. He and his wife are still living in Lebanon at the ripe age of seventy-five years. One day we went south to where Advance now stands. There was not even a house-nothing but a rail pen inhabited by a man and woman. We thought the place ought to have
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a name, so we put up a board with the name Osceola on it and it was known by that name until the post office was established. We passed on to Raccoon, thence east to the farm of John M. Shelley, who came from Union county in 1859. His farm was like the rest and he lived in a little cabin. On east to the township line it was the same, the only signs of civilization we saw was an old church. It stood a little to the northeast of the farm owned by George Bush. After spending a few days there, I went home, and, as a trip to Boone was then equal to a trip to California now, I had to answer a good many questions.
That winter my father gave me forty acres of this half quarter if 1 would buy the other at five hundred dollars. The trade was made, that was easy enough, but I had no money; but where there is a will there is a way. In the winter I cut wood at forty cents a cord, and in the summer worked for thirteen dollars a month, and kept it up until the land was paid for. Then I began to look around for a wife, for I always said I would not marry until I had a home for her, let it be ever so humble. To make a long story short, I found a wife. Her name was Mary Jane Demoret, of Butler county, Ohio. We were married October 3, 1867; afterward came to the farm we now live on. We will pass over eighteen years. Every man that has cleared a farm in Boone knows that it takes courage and hard work. Today as I look over the same country I did twenty-seven years ago, a finer country and better improved would be hard to find. The log churches have been replaced by good frame ones ; we see brick school houses every little way, but we must hasten on. Here we are at J. M. Shelley's, our old friend and pioneer, but we look in vain for the cabin. In place of it we see three nice frame dwell- ings occupied by himself and his sons. With the cabin has disappeared the logs, brush and ponds and a finer farm you will not see on the Ladoga gravel road. Just above us you can see the farm of William Mangers, an old Virginian. He came to Boone in 1857. As you pass along take a look at his farm, call in and see the old folks-you will always find the latch-string out.
On we go, and what's this? Why, that is Ward, a new town, only three years old. It has one store, postoffice, brick school house, Christian church built in 1882, through the perseverance of elders Smith and Heckathorn, who never gave up the good work till they got the house finished and now they number sixty members. The store was put up by elder Bennington, who also worked for and got the post office established. George Jackson, who is
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a native of Boone county boy, runs the sawmill. James H. Fink is principal of the school which enrolls about sixty-five scholars. Ward is on the Leb- anon and Ladoga gravel road, seven miles southwest of Lebanon. The road was built in the year 1884. It is thirteen miles long and cost twenty-one thousand dollars. Land can not be bought for less than fifty or sixty dollars per acre.
THE FAITHFUL OX.
We can not close this record of the early history of Boone county with- out giving a meed of honor to the faithful ox that was with our fathers in all their toil and privation. Of course, the horse, the cow and other animals did their duty and bore their part of the burden. These latter are still with us and are enjoying with us the pleasures of our developed country as we have it today. But the ox is gone. The boys and girls of our day know nothing about his toil and faithfulness except as it has been told to them by their grandparents or some uncle or aunt that remembers the faithful animal. It was the ox that helped to roll the logs into heaps for the burnings. It was the ox that so faithfully and steadily pulled the plow that broke the roots of the clearing and made it possible for cultivation. We do not want to minify the services of the horse, the noblest of all animals but we do want to remem- ber our dear old friend the humble ox that would toil all day and not a moan of complaint. He must have his meed of praise for his faithfulness, and the very hard work that he performed for man in the early days of great hard- ship. It was the ox that turned over most of the virgin soil. It was by his willing shoulders that bore the yoke that broke the roots for the first time in the new soil. Well do we remember when the great plow with four strong oxen at the yoke was drawn through the clearing for the first time. What a cracking, snapping time there was among the roots. It was not safe to walk behind such a plow for there were flying roots that would pop you on the shins with a vigor that would fairly make one dance and sometimes let off expletives that were not proper for oxen to hear or even the dead stumps.
What is true of Boone county is true all over the state of Indiana. The ox was first in the push. The white man with his faithful team of oxen was the force that first turned the primitive soil and fitted it for cultivation. We were not here in our boyhood, but we were in another county of the state and the same old story holds good of the faithful services of this useful force
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in our early farming. There is not a county in the state but that this story will hold good, and could be multiplied by hundreds in each county, and wherever an old citizen will read these lines, it will bring to his memory visions and experiences of his boyhood. We venture that there is not a man in the state that was reared on the farm and is past three-score years and ten but will call to mind the old team of oxen and his experience in con- nection with them. They were universally used in this state and others in its early development. We call to mind our experience with the ox team on the farm in our boyhood as forcibly as if it occurred but yesterday. We can see them today as plain as we did over sixty years ago, when we drove them at the plow. How the soil did roll over in a great roll and how steadily they pulled.
We append here a true story of the work of the oxen in another county of the state and couple with it an act of the oxen that we witnessed with our own eyes and ears. This story made a deep impression upon us in our youth, and in all the years that have passed, we have never forgotten our feelings as a mourner in that procession and the deep feeling manifested by the ani- mals in that woodlot that attended that funeral. We can see and feel the deep and sincere emotion and sorrow that was evidenced by every animal in the pasture that day. This story has had an effect on our entire life and we feel that it should be put on record, so that it will live in the memory of others and help us all to hold a tenderer feeling in our hearts for the animals that so faithfully serve us year after year without a word of complaint. This story is dedicated to the memory of all the oxen that ever toiled in Boone or other counties in honor of their faithfulness and the true affection that they hold for their companions and playmates in the field. The animals that we con- sider are beneath us surely have feeling for each other that is akin to the emotion in the breast of man who is the Archon of animals, and there are times when they manifest it sincerely. This should make us more consider- ate of them, help us to treat them more kindly and avoid giving pain of body or heart affections.
TOM AND DICK.
They were as perfect a yoke of oxen as ever existed. They lived in the forties, were born just south of Liberty. Indiana, where they grew up, served and died. Tom was tall, long and raw-boned, and always wore a black and
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white spotted coat. He carried a long tail with a huge white brush on it, which he used vigorously in fly time. He held in front of him always a pair of wide-spreading, slender, glistening horns, which stood up like bayonets ready to charge. He presented a warlike appearance but was always peace- ful and docile. His place of duty was ever on the right, where he served faithfully and well. His yoke fellow, Dick, was of a more phlegmatic temperament. He was a chunk of an ox. His coat a solid red, one horn short and thick, pointing upward, the other down, giving him a very odd and quizzical expression. He always looked sleepy, but never failed when duty called. He was just the ox to hold the post of honor and keep his mate Tom in line.
They were well matched and having been trained from their boyhood, grew into strength and usefulness, until they became a powerful team. They were monsters for the day in which they lived. We remember them well. How we stood in awe before their huge bodies and prodigious strength. We called them our elephants. At their best they turned the beam in joint weight four thousand five hundred pounds. They never were hitched to a load that they did not draw. In that early day there were times that the roads were in bad condition. Well do we remember while yet a small boy, when coming to one of these bad places in the road, father would stop before entering and say, "Now boys, you must do your best; this is a hard place." He would pat them on the head, caress them and talk to them as to human beings. They seemed to understand. Tom, who was always demonstrative, would moan his assent, while Dick would put on a determined expression, which said with more emphasis than words, "I'll be there." They always pulled through. They were great loggers. Could drag almost anything that could be moved. When they were hitched at the plow it moved along as if it was greased. It would move right along and heave over the earth, sod or fallow ground, stumps, roots and all. If it was in the fall of the year, they would manifest a great abhorrence to the upturned angry yellow jackets, and the disturbed bumble bees. Tom would ply his tail vigorously, twist his back and moan and Dick would do his best to hustle out of the reach of the disturbed elements.
We never knew but one mean trick of these faithful oxen. Father had gone to town with them hitched to the cart. It may be that some of our
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boys and girls never saw an ox-cart. It was a two wheeled vehicle, with a large stiff tongue passing between the oxen, and through a large iron ring in the yoke and held there by a bolt. There was a large box bed balanced on the axle and resting in front on the tongue. After unloading and heading the oxen homeward, father stepped into a store. Upon returning he saw the cart far down the road, moving off faster than a usual ox gait toward home. They pulled in at the farm gate without driver or damage.
FUNERAL OBSEQUIES.
It is not usual for what we term dumb animals to conduct funeral services. We witnessed one such service in our life, in which these noble animals were the principal actors. They had had a young companion whom they dearly loved. In their younger days they had fed in the same pasture, played upon the same hillside, drank from the same running brook and rested beneath the same shade in summer. They grew up together. In the fourth year of his life, their young companion had gone to the great city by the beautiful river, and contracted a severe cold. It fastened upon his lungs and he grew weaker and weaker. Late in the spring of 1848, after the birds had returned and the trees had put on their dress of verdure, Charley, for that was the name of their friend, a spirited young horse with a bright bay suit, was nearing the sunset of life. It was a lovely bright day in May. The oxen, horses, cattle and sheep were in the sugar orchard. Charley was too weak to move around; too weak to lie down. He dropped dead. No sooner had he fallen than Tom set up a moan on the far side of the pasture, and headed toward his fallen friend. Dick was soon by his side, yoked by the bonds of sorrow, stronger than those of wood and iron. The horses and the remainder of the cattle joined in the procession. The sheep came in from the other side. All gathered around the dead. The oxen kneeled near the corpse and caressed him. Tom set up a moan of lamentation; the cattle joined in the sad refrain; the sheep bleated, while Dick poured forth a silent manifestation of grief.
As boys we watched the scene with awe and a deep feeling of admiration for the creatures which dwell below us in intelligence, but not in heart affec- tion. There were no hired mourners at that service. Our heart was sad
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and touched by the scene. We have never forgotten it. It has followed us all through the journey of life. It created in us a tender feeling for what we term the lower animals. We realized then and all through life that they have the same tender feeling and are susceptible to joys and sorrows. They have attachments and know what it is to lose a loved one.
We could weave a long story about Tom and Dick, full of pathos and humor, but space forbids. They performed well their duties in life and have gone to their reward. It makes us heart-sick when we think of these faithful animals, passing from earth through the cruel lines that superior intelligence has made for them. Long ago we bade them farewell.
THE OUTLOOK FOR BOONE COUNTY.
We are not a prophet, neither are we proposing to prophesy in the mat- ter. No one can lift the veil and picture the future. We know not what a day will bring forth. Yet we may judge of the future by the past. There has been a growth in our history. A wonderful change has taken place since the first settlements were made by the white man. As long as the Indian was in control there was no perceptible change. See what has been accom- plished since the organization of the county eighty-four years ago. The county as it exists today with all of its beautiful homes, its public highways, its magnificent public buildings and splendid farms has all been developed from a wilderness of forests and swamps. The change has been marvelous. It took bravery, great toil and sacrifice to do all this. The spirit that was in our fathers and mothers is in a measure in their descendants. Boone county is in fact native born. There are but few foreign born citizens within our borders. We doubt if there is a county in the state, with so small a per cent. of foreign citizens as this one. This shows that we are Hoosiers to the manor born. We are forced to conclude that the spirit of our fathers still exists. The county is not through growing. It has not reached its highest development. Much has been accomplished, much more remains to be done, and we presume that those who come after us will carry on the good work. The forest has been hewn down, the low places drained, roads in every di- rection made and beautiful homes and farms established, but there is much
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more to do before the ideal is attained. It is under this view that we are ex- pecting great changes for the better in the near future. The next twenty- five years will witness as great a change in development as any quarter of a century in our history. The county is growing and it is not reasonable to suppose that it will cease growing all of a sudden. The impetus that it has already attained will force it onward and upward for some time to come, and it will be in keeping with the law of inertia for it to continue its growth. We are expecting greater things of Boone than she has yet attained. She is blessed with as good soil as any section under the sun and it is as capable of improvement as any spot on earth. We have produced and kept pace with our sister counties in improvements, but that is not all that is required of us. We have facilities that should make us a leader instead of being content to keep up with others. If we do not do more than try to keep up, others will outstrip us and we will be dragging along in the rear. Let us look at the farming in our past history. There has been at least three stages. First the clearing period. The main thing at first was to remove the forest. That was the first thing to be done. They could not strike a lick with the plow until the trees were down to let in the sunshine. The main work of the pio- neer was to fell the trees and remove the stumps. The present generation can scarcely conceive of the hard work that this required. The handspike, grub- bing hoe, and stump puller (that was before the day of blowing up stumps), all called for strength and endurance. As the shadow of day came on, many a pioneer farmer pulled into his cabin so tired or shins so sore, with the re- turning stub of a broken root by the plow that he could hardly walk. The only thing that could revive him, and fit him for the duties of the morrow, was the sleep of the just that was sure to come to him, and knit up the tired muscles and bruises. This was a luxury of early farming in this county that none except, those who came in the woods have experienced. This period of farming has passed into history, and the actors have been gathered to their long rest. The next period of farming may be classed as the skimming era. After the stumps were removed the soil was in its virgin richness, and would produce with proper culture to the satisfaction of the husbandman. For years this was the process, the farmer adding new fields by removing more of the forest, and in this way letting the land rest in pasture or some tillage that was not so exhaustive. By this process the land became less and
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less productive and more difficult to farm, until it awakened a feeling that something must be done to keep up the strength of the soil.
This condition ushered in the third period of farming. It dawned upon the farmer, that there must be something more than mere raising of grain in the art of true farming. The observing tiller of the soil saw that it was be- coming impoverished by the present system and that something must be done or the land would become worthless. This idea soon became the thought of the farmer and was discussed on every occasion, when the craft came together in their homes, at the cross road store and especially in the agricultural so- cieties. It was not long until the wide-awake farmer found out that agricul- ture meant more than raising grain. It means in reality raising a field to a higher state of cultivation and productiveness. This became the ambition of the third period of farming, and every live man in the county went at it with as much energy as the pioneer did in removing the stumps. The first great movement was in draining off the water. Many enterprising farmers had already begun this good work and their farms stood out as object lessons to stimulate others. Thousands of miles of ditching made a net work over the county and opened up great quantities of land in its primitive state. It was the very best of land and increased the productiveness of the county won- derfully in a few years. It was found out that most plants desired above all things dry feet and the farmers set about to supply this long needed want of the plant. Following this great improvement was the question of fertilization, which brought into discussion all the different views of men on this subject. The question is becoming more and more intense as the years roll by. The subject is now uppermost with every farmer. It is in our agricultural schools and in all our farmers' associations, so we may say that it is now at fever heat, and ready to crystallize into some form and practice, definitely demon- strated, and we now know how to build as well as how to plow to obtain re- sults. Along with land culture has come seed selection in full blaze, until now the average farmer talks about breeding corn the same that he does about breeding hogs or chickens. Yes, the boys are interested in the works and even the girls. In other words, the brain is taken into partnership with the muscle on the farm, and we may expect that something will be done worth while.
It was thought for a long time that muscle was the only force needed
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on the farm. Something has let loose. We are now right up against a revo- lution that will change the whole face of things in the near future. It is now dawning on the public mind that there is no calling anywhere that requires such general wideness of information, such culture of the intellect and such broadness of brain power as successful farming. The days of the clodhopper are over. This new standard is in the land, and Booneites have the fever and in proportion as it burns she will come to the front. Just where it will land us we are unable to say. One thing we will say, that if the boys and girls of Boone that are now looking into this matter, will manifest the pluck and hard work that their fathers did in removing the stumps, Boone county will not be second to any county in the state when this new idea gets into full operation. . Why not? This county has as good soil as there is in the state. It is as sus- ceptible to as high a development as any in the state. We doubt whether there are anywhere, men and women more fully determined and able to push the battle to victory's goal. With these elements at hand and in our possession what is to hinder us from rising to the highest development in modern im- proved farming? Just as soon as we dignify the tilling of the soil as it de- serves, all this trouble about our boys and girls going to the city will cease and the tide will turn. Everybody will want to live on the farm. It is the place of real art, and art applied is the ecstacy of life.
We do not propose to indulge here in classical or scientific terms but just plain words without embellishments. Mary is interested in birds. She knows the name of every songster in the county. She has their names all written down and classified, she knows their distress call and their joy song. She can step to the piano and give the key note of each bird. She knows how it builds its nest, what it feeds upon, where it goes in winter and whether it is beneficial or injurious to the farmer. In short, she has made the bird a study and greatly improved her mind, and gathered a world of useful knowl- edge that helps her to enjoy life and to be of great use on the farm. She is a full-fledged ornithologist and reaps pleasure untold from her bird com- panions, and would not harm one of them or permit her brother to fling stones at them or rob their nests. There is her brother John, having a regu- lar sly turn of mind always going about turning over logs and stones, and pulling bark off of trees as if he did not know how to entertain himself. One day Mary caught him clawing an old stump to pieces and asked him
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what he was about. Oh, hunting a bug, he exclaimed. In course of time he had a selection of every kind of bugs, and all manner of creeping things and flying insects in the neighborhood and knew their names, manner of living and was trying to find out all about them. In short he was developing into a full-fledged entomologist, one of the most important branches of knowl- edge on the farm, and one which can give great pleasure to the mind and great utility to the successful farmer. This is just a touch of the line of knowledge, that will become very useful to the farmer in the coming era of farming. He will not only have to know the nature of his soil and what to do to each field, but he must be able to care for his stock, his fruit, his plants and above all his household, and have the art to make every creature on his premises happy, and all his plants healthful and fruitful. Some say that is ideal farming that can never be realized. Be that as it may, one thing is sure, you can never have a real farm until you first have a high ideal. Another thing is sure, there must be an upward move in farming, or we will bring a reflection on the calling that will injure every interest in society. We must make the farm home attractive. We must take the drudgery out of the busi- ness, so that the farmer can sing to his corn while plowing and see beauty and pleasure all around him and enjoy life. He must produce more grain to the acre, have fat sleek animals and the jolliest boys and girls in the land. We are expecting that the coming farmer of Boone county will know more about farming, and more about the essentials of happy life in the future so he can produce more and do it with less hard labor. Every one will put his hand up and want to know how we are going to do this. It is not my pur- pose to tell in this article. It is a case of have to or fail. Other folks are do- ing it, and we must be as smart or go without some things. The old country raises two bushels of grain where we raise one. Why is this? Are they smarter than we are? Have they better soil? We would not want to own to any of these questions as being true. There must be a difference in the method of farming which it would be well for us to consider. If an English dairyman can sustain four cows on one acre of land, why can not we do the same in America? Here it used to be four acres of land to support one cow. It is not so bad now, but we can not measure up to the Englishman in caring for stock. The investigation of how other folks do things will bring us up to the measure, or at least make us put forth an effort. If our land increases in value the next twenty-five years as it has in the past twenty-five years,
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BOONE COUNTY, INDIANA.
it will take three hundred dollars an acre to buy a first-class farm. We will have to increase our production fifty per cent to reap returns from our in- vestment. That means that we will have to raise one hundred bushels of corn and forty bushels of wheat per acre. Will we do this? There is room for this improvement, and yet we would be short of the productions of some localities. We must do a better job in our drainage. We must introduce aeration and let in the air, as well as withdraw the excess of moisture. We must devise a better system and more economic system of fertilization, or know how to feed the soil, so as to gain the best results, as well as to know how to feed our stock so as to get the best returns for our food. These are problems for investigation and much study. It will take some careful plan- ning and experiments, before we will know just how to treat every field on the farm to the best advantage and gain the best results. We feel confident that the farmers of Boone county will come to the front in what is termed intense farming, and measure up to the best in the land, so we may expect this county to hold her place among the first ten in the state in advance farm- ing for the next twenty-five years; and she will hold her standard as among the first agricultural counties of the great state of Indiana.
1181
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