How I Came to Be a Farmer. 13 



many thousands of dollars of other people's money were lost at 

 the same time. I was offered an excellent chance in a lawyer's 

 office. But all these were declined for one reason or another. 

 Before I went out of the cheese business I had a chance to trade 

 a rather poor note for $1200 for twelve acres of land near town. 

 The land was taken. And then, boy-like, I built too good a house 

 on the land (for a home) for our means. I say "I," for my wife 

 told me better. I have learned to listen to hei better, late years. 

 Just at this point my father died and left me a fine farm in Illinois, 

 and that encouraged me to build a good home. I intended to sell 

 the farm, finish up house, get out of debt, and perhaps buy a 

 little more land. But a Western lawyer was too smart for me. I 

 went there with deed and had the money in my hand counting it, 

 when the lawyer discovered something wrong about the deed that I 

 must return to Ohio to have fixed, and then I could send it to 

 him, and he could take the money and forward it to me. It was a 

 contrived plan, and he got the money and moved on, and not one 

 cent did I ever see. And still everyone told me he was all right. 

 This put me in bad shape. The house was too good to sell, too 

 costly for the size of town. I couldn't get a cash offer of more 

 than half its cost. I couldn't keep it. 



A friend of mine, the late E. B. Ellsworth, had a farm that 

 he had bought for a son of his, and the son refused to take it as a 

 gift and live on it. (This I learned afterwards.) He had rented 

 it and got practically nothing out of it, it was so poor. No reli- 

 able tenant would go on it. Now he wanted to get rid of that 

 farm, and turn it into money, or something more valuable, iust 

 about as badly as I wanted to sell my home. But I knew noth- 

 ing of this then. Well, we met and traded, he giving me ten cows 

 and his notes for $1500 to boot, my only object being to pay my 

 debts and get square with the world. His notes were then good 

 as gold. I was just green enough to think a farm was a farm and 

 could be easily sold. I knew the buildings and fences were 

 wretched, but thought it would sell for enough to let me out bet- 

 ter than I could make it in any other way. After trading I tried 

 to rent the place, as I found I could not sell at once. My eyes 

 began to open when I found only the very poorest and most irre- 

 sponsible tenants would look at it. I finally got such an one on 

 the farm. He was to pay cash rent $300, I think, for farm and 

 use of ten cows. I never got one cent in money. Did get a 

 small grist of wheat, I believe, and an old buggy. I could not 

 ask for any pay, simply because I saw that he did not make half 

 enough to live on himself. In December (the year was out in 

 April) I asked him what he would take to move off and give me 

 possession? He replied $50. I told him to go. Then we 

 moved onto the farm, twenty-two years ago last December, to fix 

 it up a little so w r e could sell it, but without a thought of staying 

 here permanently. The year the tenant was here I came over 



