Ten Acres Enough* — II 



(Continued from page log) 



I HAD determined on giving my attention to the 

 raising of the smaller fruits for the great markets 

 of New York and Philadelphia. I must therefore be 

 somewhere on or near the railroad between those 

 cities, and as near as possible to a station. The 

 soil of Pennsylvania, near Philadelphia, was too 

 heavy for some of the lighter fruits. New Jersey, 

 with its admirably sandy loam, light, warm, and 

 of surprisingly easy tillage, was proverbially 

 adapted for the growth of all market produce, 

 whether fruit or vegetable, and was at the same 

 time a week or two earlier. Land was far cheaper, 

 there was no State debt, taxes were merely 

 nominal, and an acre that could be bought for 

 thirty dollars could be made four times as pro- 

 ductive as an acre of the best wheat land in Pennsyl- 

 vania. Such results are regularly realized by 

 hundreds of Jerseymen from year to year. 



Every town within the range of my wants was 

 well supplied with churches, schools, and stores, 

 together with an intelligent and moral population. 

 I should be surrounded by desirable neighbors, 

 while an hour's ride by steamboat or railroad would 

 place me, many times daily, among all my ancient 

 friends in the city. 



By the mere accident of a slight revival in busi- 

 ness, a party came along who was thus induced to 

 purchase my stock and machinery. Luckily, he 

 was able to pay down the whole amount in cash. I 

 received what I considered at the time an excel- 

 lent price; but when I came to settle up my accounts 

 and pay what I owed, I found, to my extreme dis- 

 appointment, that but a little over two thousand 

 dollars remained. 



This sum was the net gain of many years of most 

 laborious toil. Was it possible for farming to be a 

 worse business than this? I had made ten times as 

 much, but my losses had been terrible. This, with 

 my personal credit, was all the surplus I had saved. 



Buying a Farm — A Long Search 



THIS was the amount I had with which to buy 

 and stock a farm, and keep my family while my 

 first crops were growing. As I was entirely free 

 from debt, so I determined to avoid it in the future. 



Thus resolved, we set out in the early part of 

 March to seek a home. I was particular to take 

 my wife with me — I wanted her to aid in choosing 

 it. I was determined that she should be made 

 comfortable from the start, not only because she 

 deserved to be made so, but to make sure that no 

 cause for future discontent should arise. I was 

 unwilling to take a single step in opposition either 

 to her wishes or her judgment. Indeed, I had 

 long since -made up my mind, from observation of 

 the good or bad luck of other men, that he who 

 happens to be blessed with a wife possessing good 

 sense and good judgment, succeeds or fails in life 

 according as he is accustomed to consult her in his 

 business enterprises. There is a world of caution, 

 shrewdness, and latent wisdom in such women, 

 which their husbands too frequently disregard to 

 their ruin. 



I am thus particular as to all my experiences; 

 for this is really a domestic story, intended for the 

 multitudes who have suffered half a lifetime from 

 trials similar to mine, and who yet feel ungratified 

 longings for some avenue of escape. My object 

 being to point out that through which I emerged 

 from such a life to one of certainty and comfort, 

 the detail ought to be valuable, even if it fail to be 

 interesting. It is possible that I may sink the 

 practical in the enthusiastic, and prove myself 

 to be unduly enamored of my choice. But as it is 

 success that makes the hero, so let my experience 

 be accepted as the test. 



* Copyright, 1905, by Consolidated Retail Booksellers. 



I had settled it in my mind that I would use a 

 thousand dollars in the purchase of land, and that 

 I could make Ten Acres Enough. This I was 

 determined to pay for at once, and have it covered 

 by no man's parchment. But when we set out on 

 our search, we found some difficulties. Every 

 county in New Jersey contained a hundred farms 

 that were for sale. Most of them were too large 

 for my slender purse, though otherwise most 

 eligibly situated. Then we must have a decent 

 house, even if we were forced to put up with less 

 land. Numerous locations of this kind were 

 offered. The trouble was — keeping my slender 

 purse in view — that the farms were either too 

 large or too small 



Anxiety to Sell Land 



IT WAS curious to note the anxiety of so many 

 land-owners to sell, and to hear the discordant 

 reasons which they gave for desiring to do so. The 

 quantity in market was enormous. All the real- 

 estate agents had large books filled with descrip- 

 tions of farms and fancy country-seats for sale, 

 some to be had by paying one fourth of the pur- 

 chase money down, and some which the owners 

 would exchange for merchandise, or traps, or 

 houses in the city. Many of them appeared simply 

 to want something else for what they already had. 

 They were tired of holding, and desired a change 

 of some kind, better if they could make it, and 

 worse if they could not. City merchants, or 

 thriving mechanics, had built country cottages, 

 and then wearied of them — it was found incon- 

 venient to be going to and fro — in fact, they had 

 soon discovered that the city alone was their place. 

 Many such told us that their wives did not like 

 the country. 



Others had bought farms and spent great sums 

 in improving them, only to sell at a loss. Farm- 

 ing did not pay an owner who lived away off in 

 the city. Another class had taken land for debt, 

 and wanted to realize. They expected to lose 

 anyhow, and would sell cheap. Then there was 

 another body of owners who, though born and 

 raised upon the land, were tired of country life, 

 and wanted to sell and embark in business in the 

 city. Some few were desirous of going to the West. 

 Change of some kind seemed to be the general 

 craving. As I discovered that much of all this 

 land was covered with mortgages of greater or 

 less amount, it was natural to suppose the sheriff 

 would occasionally turn up, and so it really was. 

 There were columns in some of the county papers 

 filled with his advertisements. I sometimes 

 thought the whole country was for sale. 



But yet there was a vast body of owners, many 

 of them descendants of the early settlers, whom no 

 consideration of price could tempt to abandon 

 their inheritances. They seemed to know and 

 understand the value of their ancestral acres. We 

 met with other parties, recent purchasers, who had 

 bought for a permanency, and who could not be 

 induced to sell. In short, there seemed to be two 

 constantly flowing streams of people — one tend- 

 ing from city to country, the other from country 

 to city. Doubtless it is the same way with all our 



161 



large cities. I think the latter stream was the 

 larger. If it were not so, our cities could not grow 

 in population at a rate so much more rapid than 

 the country. At numerous farmhouses inquiries 

 were made if we knew of any openings in the city 

 in which boys and young men could be placed. 

 The city was evidently the coveted goal with too 

 large a number. 



This glut of the land market did not discourage 

 us. We could not be induced to believe that land 

 had no value because so many were anxious to 

 dispose of it. We saw that it did not suit those 

 who held it, and knew that it would suit us. But 

 we could not but lament over the infatuation of 

 many owners, who we felt certain would be ruined 

 by turning their wide acres into money, and ex- 

 posing it to the hazards of an untried business in 

 the city. I doubt not that many of the very 

 parties we then encountered have, long before 

 this, realized the sad fate we feared, and learned 

 too late that lands are better than merchandise. 



Found at Last 



ONE morning, about the middle of March, we 

 found the very spot we had been seeking. It lay 

 within a few miles of Philadelphia, within gunshot 

 of a railroad station, and on the outskirts of a town 

 containing churches, schools, and stores, with quite 

 an educated society. The grounds comprised 

 eleven acres, and the dwelling-house was quite 

 large enough for my family. It struck the fancy 

 of my wife the moment we came up to it; and 

 when she had gone over the house, looked into the 

 kitchen, explored the cellar, and walked round the 

 garden, she expressed the strongest desire to make 

 it our home. 



There was barn enough to accommodate a horse 

 and cow, with a ton or two of hay, quite an ex- 

 tensive shed, and I noticed that the barnyard con- 

 tained a good pile of manure which was to go with 

 the property. The buildings were of modern date, 

 the fences were good, and there was evidence that 

 a former occupant had exercised a taste for fruit 

 and ornamental trees, while the garden was in 

 very fair condition. But the land had been wholly 

 neglected. All outside of the garden was a per- 

 fect scarecrow of tall weeds, thousands of which 

 stood clear up to the fence top, making sure that 

 they had scattered seeds enough for twenty future 

 crops. 



But I noticed that the land directly opposite 

 was in the most admirable condition, and I saw at 

 a glance that the soil must be adapted to the very 

 purpose to which it was to be applied. The op- 

 posite ground was matted with a luxuriant growth 

 of strawberries, while rows of stalwart raspberries 

 held up their vigorous canes in testimony of the 

 goodness of the soil. A fine peach orchard on the 

 same neighboring property seemed impatient to 

 put forth and blossom unto harvest. The eleven 

 acres could be no worse land than this, and though 

 I had a horror of weeds, yet I was not to be fright- 

 ened by them. I knew that weeds were more 

 indigenous to New Jersey than even watermelons. 



This miniature plantation of eleven acres be- 

 longed to a merchant in the city. He had taken 

 it to secure a debt of eleven hundred dollars, but 

 had pledged himself to pay the former owner what- 

 ever excess over that sum he might obtain for it. 

 But pledges of that loose character seldom amount 

 to much — the creditor consults his own interest, 

 not that of the debtor. The latter had long been 

 trying to sell, but in vain; and now the former 

 had become equally embarrassed, and needed 

 money even more urgently than the debtor had 

 done. The whole property had cost the debtor 

 eighteen hundred dollars. His views in founding 

 it were similar to mine. He meant to establish 

 for himself a home, to which at some future period 

 he might retire. But he made the sad mistake of 



