• Purdue University!
VOL. LXII
INDIANAPOLIS, JANUARY 5, 1907.
NO. 1
THE   CONTRASTS OF 67 YEARS.
The Old and the New in Farming.
By Henry Baker.
Sixty-seven years ago, October 20, 1839,
the parents of the writer with their faro
ily of au even half dozen boys, came in
wagons from Niagara county, New _ork,
by the way of Indianapolis, to Greene
country, Indiana; the state was then 23
years old, and was new and wild. Indianapolis was less than 20 years old, and
with less than 2,000 population (so said)
the first state house was then new and
was the pride of all the state. In 67
years there bave been many changes and
many improvements, as the -wheela of
time have moved along.
Sixty-seven years ago was eight years
•before the first railroad was built in* the
state. How    is   it    now?   x   Xote   thp
contrast!
Less than 60 years ago there was no
telegraph nor telephone lines in the state,
and nearly all messages had to go by the
old time horse back mail route throngh the
-dense woods and wild prairies, as best the
way could be found from one point to
another, as all roads went the nearest
way. im.; over tho best ground regardless
of lines, and all rivers and smaller
streams were ferried or forded. Now costly
bridges have taken the place of ferries
and fords.
Sixty-seven years ago, the entrance
price of what was known as Congress land
was $1.25 on- acre, and what was known
as canal land wag $2.50 an acre, and
swamp laml was 12% cents an acre, and
there were thousands of acres of the latter that no one wanted as a gift, although
tliis same land is now the best land in the
state, and perhaps at the date referred to
n'ot one-half of the land in the stnte had
been entered and nut one-fourth had been
fenced or in cultivation.
I-aml was cheap and there were thous
anils of acres on the market waiting for
buyers, and labor was cheap, and the average farm band could get only five to
seven dollars a month, working from ten
to twelve hours a day, in clearing and
fencing the wild land, and plowing
among the trees and stumps—a thing that
but few farmers have to do now—all of
which was hard work in the strictest sense
of the term. And the young man,    or
the old man either, that snved his hard
earnings could have money enough laid by
at the end of the year to enter 40 acres
of Congress land and some to spare, nt $5
a month. Anal many a young man captured a farm in this way that made him
and his best girl a pleasant home nnd a
good living in their old age. Most all
the timbered land was covered with the
inest sawing timber ever known in the
history of the state, the best of which
at sawmill prices was fifty cents a
hundred feet and with but few buyers.
Now the same grade is worth more than
five  dollars  a   hundred   feet. Not     60
years ago the biggest nnd best poplar,
white oak and walnut tries would sell for
from one to three or four dollars each, according to locality, A good horse, or a
good yoke of oxen would sell for about $25
each. Oxen were then used for nearly
all heavy hauling so it can be seen that
two good horses, or two yoke of oxen
would pay for 40 acres of Congress land
at $1.25 per acre, or 400 acres of
awamp land at 12% cents an acre.
Who wouldn't wish for prices and times
ef 60 years ago?      Sixty years and morej
ago a very little money had to go,    and
did go, a long way.
Then the nverage farmer's tax for a
whole year wns from 5 to 7 or 8 dollars
dollars. Not one-tenth part what it is
now, and not even the far seeing can
predict when our tax will be less. In
the spring of 1861 the writer entered the
last 4j0 acre tract of canal land in his
township at $2.50 an acre, and the first
year's tax was 93 cents, and the cry
then was hard times; "too many fat offices and too many dishonest officers."
Sixty-seven years ago there were hut
two mail routes in the county, and those
were horseback, and only once a week,
each way.
The postage on a single letter was 25
cents (anywhere in the states or territories,
ond the writer has a few letters bearing
the date of 1839, that have the postage
mark 25 cents, that he is keeping as relics of olden times. There were no stamps
or envelopes in use at the time; it was cash
in advance or on delivery just as the
writer saw fit, but most invariably the
receiver had the postage to pay, which
as money was scarce, though the required
25 cents could be had for a day's work on
a farm, or the price of 2% bushels of
corn, or one bushel of wheat, if the receiver had the corn' or wheat to sell, and could
find a buyer that had the money.
As envelopes were not then in use fools
cap was used, and so folded that the ad
dress came on the outside page, and was
sealed with  wax or wafer.
Postage on all newspapers had to be
paid by the subscriber, which was generally from 15 to 25 cents for weekly pap
ers, according to the distance, and the
price of nearly all papers was more than
double the present prices, to which add
the postage made papers quite costly.
Paying the postage by the receiver was
termed -'lifting a letter," and when the
contents were scanned and found to be a
dun for a debt long past due, or "I take
my pen in hand to inform you that I am
well and hope these few lines will find
you well too," the feeling towards the
writer can better *be imagined than told,
after the payment of the 25 cents.
Sixty-seven years ago there were but
few post offices thought to be worth contending for, ami frequently a man had to
be almost drafted to fill the office,
meager was  the  pay.
Sixty-seven years ago there wasn't a
frame church or school house in this
county, nnd but few frame houses of any
kind, and nearly all preaching appointments were in the lug cabin homes of the
early settlers, or in the rustic log cabin
school houses. The early preachers and
teachers had a haral.time of it, bnt few
of them were college graduates, and an
the absence of good school houses for
preaching and teaching, any old deserted
log cabin was thought to be good e_on| li
for school or church, especially for
county schools and meetings of all kinds.
Preachers generally preached for th,1
good of the soul and for what ever the people saw fit to give them, and as there
v.i-re no clubs or secret orders, nearly
e, eryliody went to "meeting," in their
home spun suits, either on foot, on horseback, or in the old time linchpin wagons,
seated in hickory bark bottomed chairs.
"Happy as happy could be," and in a
time of "big meetins," and "camp meet-
ins." that often lasted for weeks, everybody went to "meetin" and nearly every-
body "jined the church," and when everybody joined in singing the old familiar
hymns,  such as "Happy day,"  "The old
ship of Zion," "Our bondage here shall
end by and by." How the good sisters
need to shout, sing and shake bands all
around.
The early time farmers had hard times
and dark days in more ways than one,
while they had sunshine and flowers in
other was; this the writer knows something of from actual experience.
Sixty-seven years ago there was but
one buggy in the county, and thnt was
not called a buggy but an open carriage.
The axles were wooden, and with linchpins just the same as in the old time wagons, and but few farmers could afford a
wagon, but many of them had as a substitute what they called truck wagons, a
description of which would be too much
to give in print. The old time Farmer
readers will recollect what a truck wagon
was. Many of the early settlers, came
here from Kentucky, Tennessee and North
Carolina. Many of them moved all
their household goods on pack horses, not
including tables, chairs, bedsteads and bureaus.
It cost more to raise one bushel of corn
or wheat 60 years ago than it now costs to
raise four of either, yet in many ways we
lived far better than we do now. We
had what we termed outside range for
stock of all kinds, and the man that
didn't own a foot of ground had the same
rights and privileges that all big land
owners hnd, and no one dared to molest
him.
Hogs fattened in the woods on the mast
that never tasted corn or slop, and cattle
that never ate hay made better beef than
we get now from the city markets, and it
was as good as it was cheap, and meat of
some kind met us at the table three times
a day the year around, and it didn't cost
us from ten to twenty-five cents a poun.l
as it does now. And besides this we had
all kinds of game and fish that was unmolested by law, and if hog meat or beef
run a little short we could go to the woods
end lay claim to any part of the game
that was in abundance and no one dared
to interfere. And if we failed to raise
turkeys for the holidays or any other time
we could buy a fnt turkey for 25 centa and
if we hadn't the 25 cents we could go to
the woods and get the real wild tnrkey
for the shooting, aud have the sport free.
And tish we had in all the streams and
ponds, that we could catch when we
pleased and as we pleased, and we never
failed to catch lots aaf tish when wc "spit
am our bait."
Anal the heavens iwarIliad every fall
and winter with wild ducks and pigeons,
plentier than blackbirds, and prairie
chickens till you couldn't rest. The game
is about all gone and the men that were
hunters 60 years ago are about all gone
to their reward.
Sixty years ago we could have and did
hnve the real genuine maple molasses
and sugar, a real luxury that but few can
now have; cheap brown sugar, corn cobs,
and hickory bark makes a poor substitute
fur "tree molasses," but will do for those
that can't tell the difference. The bees
made honey in the hollow trees in the
avai.a.ls. iiiul we sopped onr pancakes and
biscuits on both sides in the tree molasses
and honey anal the ham gravy, from the
h.igs that fattened in the woods, and the
ribs ami back bones, and the dodger bread
our mothers used to roast and bake, by
the big, old time lire places in the long
time ago, can never be enjoyed again nor
forgotten in the dim future.
Now don't all smack your lips at once,
but  bear in mind  that the early  settlers
lived at home anal boarded at the same
place and wore their home spun buckskin
suits, and coon-skin caps when and
where thoy pleased "meetin or no meetin,"
and the yuung man that was the owner of
a horse rode to "meetin," with his best girl
rialing behind, with her arm nicely twined
around her gallant beau, just to keep
from falling off, you see. And many o
fair bride in this way rode miles and milea
behind her happy groom to the "infair,"
for infairs were then common.
Sixty-seven years ago we burned tallow
caudles or "dips," as they were then termed, for lights and in the alsence of candles we often burned any kind of soft
grease, at the end of a rag hanging out of
a saucer or other shallow dish, that made
a great substitute for a light. Now we
have lights that have long since laid the
tallow dips and cheap grease in tiie shade.
Sixty-seven years ago there were no organs nor pianos in the county and Greene
county was not alone in this respect.
About the only instrument of music in use
was the rustic fiddle, and no one thought
of an organ in a church for the reason that
there were no churches. The first organs
in the churches were less than 50 years
ago, and many of the old members bitterly opposed the use of church organs, using
as an argument that they were not used in
bible times, while the younger members
made a bold front for the organs, and
many were the bitter wrangles indulged
in.
It would be a difficult matter to mention all the advantages we had in early
times that we can never enjoy again, or
the many disadvantages we had to encounter in a new and wild country. Best
of all we had no saloons with the front
doors at the back enal of the room on
Sundays and legal holidays, and no blind
tigers with holes in the wall to poke the
drinks and money through to the thirsty
souls without. Ami  there was no beer
then, but plain, cheap home made whiskey, that was often so cheap that in summer it soared ami in winter it froze up.
Whiskey that didn't fight and kill ns it
does now. Whiskey was then too cheap
to waste drugs in the making. And then
preachers and church monitors didn't vote
for saloon license as they do now, and
have been doing for the last 40 years or
more. Not all preachers and church
members are included in this statement,
Int sail to relate, too many, too many.
Worthington, Greene Co.
Make Orass Lands   Pay.
Editors luallsns  Farmer:
One of the worst mistakes made in farm
management is in handling the pasture or
moailiaw-  lands. Too often    these    are
given no thought or attention until they
are so foul with weeals that the danger
of contaminating the fields becomes so
great thnt the plows are started to put nnder everything in sight. Many seem
to think that grass lands are not money
makers anyhow, consequently no work or
expense should ibe put upon them. Tho
whole idea is wrong. No one can afford
to keep lands iu grass without making
thom produce maximum crops. The
thing to do is to put all the barnyard manure on to these lands this winter. If
any field has a poor stand of grass and a
beautiful stand of weeds, plow it up
next spring, put it into corn, and the following year, if necessary, seed down
with some small grain crop. Make every
acre of land work, and work hard too.
La.   C.   B.
11377