AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
225 
MUNCHAUSEN STORIES ABOUT WESTERN 
FARMERS. 
Many of our religious newspapers have 
adopted an “ Agricultural Department ’ 
among the varied teachings with which they 
assume to instruct the world. This is all 
very well—praiseworthy indeed, when these 
departments are under the supervision of 
men who understand what they are about— 
but infinitely mischievous when exercised 
by a mere scissor-and-paste journeyman, 
Who would probably be more in his element 
prosecuting the labors of a colporteur, than 
editing “ Agricultural” matters. As a sam¬ 
ple of many of their absurdities, we cull 
from the New-York Evangelist, under the 
imposing title of “North-Western Depart¬ 
ment, by Rev. Chas. P. Bush, of Chicago,” 
the following:— 
AN ILLINOIS FARM. 
“The word farm in its ordinary accepta¬ 
tion does not indicate the thing of which we 
now speak. This is no seven by nine gar¬ 
den plat between adjacent hills, each of 
which a man may almost reach with arms 
distended, whilst standing in the centre of 
the valley. We have seen many such in 
Eastern Connecticut; and they are quiet 
little spots, often rich in comfort. We would 
by no means despise them. But neither is 
the place of which we now speak, a broad 
three hundred acre tract, such as is often 
cultivated in the renowned valley of the 
Genesee. We have long held those in high 
esteem. But here are three thousand acres 
in one farm, owned, occupied, and cultiva¬ 
ted by one man—the Hon. James Cur¬ 
tis, formerly Mayor of the city of Chicago. 
“ This farm, as we learn from a friend to 
whom we are indebted for particulars, lies 
about one hundred and thirty miles South 
of Chicago, on or near the Illinois Central 
Railroad, near W’est Urbana, Champaign 
County. The farm lies in almost a perfect 
square, about two and a half miles East and 
West, and two and a half North and 
South. It is rolling prairie, and nearly 
every foot of it is susceptible of cultivation ; 
better land was never warmed by the rays 
of a summer’s sun. 
“The mansion of Mr. Curtis stands in the 
centre of his more than Baronial estate, on 
high ground, overlooking the whole, and 
commanding an extensive view of the sur¬ 
rounding country. Crystal springs in the 
adjacent swells of the prairie supply a de 
lightful stream to flow by his door, and these 
are the head waters of the Kaskaskia River 
Seven miles West, the beautiful groves of 
the Sangamon may be seen, and upon the 
Eastern horizon similar fringes adorn the 
beautiful banks of one of the branches of 
the Wabash. 
“But this farm is still new. Its beauties 
and utilities are but partially developed, 
was purchased only three years ago, at an 
average cost of a little more than seven do] 
lars per acre. It is now supposed to be 
worth thirty dollars the acre ; advanced in 
three years $65,000—money enough for 
man to make in so short a time ; but far 
more pleasantly as well as honestly made 
than it might have been in a thousand other 
operations. 
“To give some idea of the capacity of this 
farm, if it were all sowed with wheat, it 
would yield about 90,000 bushels. At two 
dollars a bushel, as last year, $180,000 is no 
inconsiderable sum to realize from one farm, 
one crop, and one season. If it were 
all planted to corn, about 180,000 bush¬ 
els, it is supposed, might be taken. It 
would require a considerable bin to hold it 
in the ear. 
Mr. Curtis has three hundred acres of 
wheat now growing; intends to break up six 
hundred acres of new land this Summer ; 
plant a part of it in the first place to corn 
upon the sod ; and then sow the whole to 
wheat in the fall. Mr. Curtis is also inter¬ 
esting himself deeply in the raising of fruit. 
He has already set out twelve hundred ap¬ 
ple trees; intends to plant this year five 
thousand peach trees, sixty quince trees, 
fifty plum trees, and so on. May he live to 
eat of the fruit.” 
Now, without disparaging the State of 
Illinois, cr “ Illinois farming,” this story, 
without material qualification, is what we 
Yankees would call a “whopper.” They 
have a softened term of expression out 
West, called “ bloviate”—signifying, in com¬ 
mon parlance, stretching the truth; Mun¬ 
chausen fashion, when praising any thing 
to extasies ; and “ bloviating” is the style of 
description to which the aforesaid Rev. Chas. 
P. Bush is greatly addicted in his Illinois 
description. 
Three fourths of our unsophisticated read¬ 
ers, on looking at the above story, and then 
casting their eyes over their own insignifi 
cant farms, and quiet, comfortable homes, of 
one hundred and upwards, to even five hun¬ 
dred acres of land, embracing soils good, 
bad, and indifferent, but on which they, as 
well as their fathers before them had man 
aged to make a good livelihood, and some¬ 
thing beyond, besides raising up their fami¬ 
lies in staid, industrious habits, would be 
apt to heave a deep sigh of discontent at 
their own humble condition, compared with 
this more than “ Baronial Estate” of the 
Hon. James Curtis, formerly Mayor of the 
city of Chicago.” Yet, as we happen to 
know something of Illinois and its prairie 
farms, without the slighest disrespect to the 
Evangelist, the Rev. Mr. Bush, or Ex-Mayor 
Curtis, we propose to take a trifle of the wind 
out of this inflated description. 
In the first place, we presume that how¬ 
ever great may be his theological attain¬ 
ments, the Rev. Mr. Bush knows little or 
nothing about farming, and by his own con¬ 
fession, has retailed his “ bloviating” ac¬ 
count of this farm at second-hand. Ex- 
Mayor Curtis is, so far as we know, a wor¬ 
thy gentleman, a resident of Chicago, a suc¬ 
cessful land speculator, living in a fine mod¬ 
ern house in the city, on the shore overlook¬ 
ing Lake Michigan, and like some other 
“ gentlemen” farmers, a lover of fine hor¬ 
ses. This “three thousand acre farm” is 
one of his speculations—although he may 
intend to improve it for agricultural purpo¬ 
ses. It is one, like ten thousand other 
prairie tracts in that wide Western World, 
situated in the open, bleak, woodless region, 
lying for hundreds of miles South and West 
of Chicago, two “ seven, ten, or more miles” 
from the nearest belt of timber, and where 
every stick of fuel, timber, or fencing—even 
to an ox-goad, must be brought from at least 
that distance, to the farm—and coal, for fuel, 
a great way off. If the farm “ cost a little 
more than seven dollars per acre,” it is prob¬ 
ably all that it is worth, as millions of acres 
of just as well located, and just as good 
land, can now be bought for, and probably 
at less than that, when farm crops get down, 
as they are fast approaching, to old prices. 
“ Thirty dollars an acre,” a thousand miles 
west, of better lands for productive farming 
in Western New-York, for which price they 
are every day selling—and improved at that 
is a sum which the farming value of the 
prairie lands will be some years in approach¬ 
ing, without large expenditures made upon 
them in buildings, fencing, and ditching. So 
much for the “ advance of $65,000 in three 
years.” 
The “ Crystal Springs,” and “ delightful 
stream,” when examined by the unpoetic 
eye, are probably a flight of fancy rather 
than fact, as those prairie waters incline to 
creep away through a broad “ slue” into the 
distant woods. Yet, when opened by good 
ditches, they frequently furnish household 
and stock water to the farm. 
Now for the real products of this “ Baron¬ 
ial” farm. Mr. Bush, wisely, does not give 
them, because, we presume, there was little 
to give, but estimates its “ capacity.” In 
“ wheat, it would yield 90,000 bushels,” 
worth at “ last year’s” prices, $180,000. In 
corn, “ it is supposed about 180,000 bushels 
might be taken.” Here is both assertion 
and supposition, with data attached. As to 
wheat, these Illinois prairies, excepting near 
the streams, and in sections where limestone 
abounds, will not grow wheat, as a reliable 
crop. The upper or surface strata of soil, 
is an impalpable powder of dark muck, or 
vegetable mould, with little or no lime in it. 
Of course, not a wheat soil, and what winter 
wheat it produces, is of inferior quality. 
With little snow in that country, and a light 
soil, winter wheat is often winter killed by 
the high winds blowing off the slight cover¬ 
ing it gets, leaving the roots bare. It then 
heaves out of the ground, and unless re sown 
with spring wheat, gives less than ten bush¬ 
els to the acre as an average crop. Indeed, 
spring wheat is the chief wheat of the prai¬ 
ries of Illinois, and twenty bushels to the 
acre is a large crop. Millions of it, unless 
in times of scarcity abroad, are sold at Chi¬ 
cago for sixty to seventy five cents a bushel. 
We have known cargo after cargo of “ Chi¬ 
cago” wheat sold in the Buffalo market for 
sixty-five to eighty cents a bushel, when 
good Ohio and Michigan winter wheat was 
worth a dollar to a dollar and a quarter per 
bushel, which had yielded twenty to thirty 
bushels to the acre—the latter a great crop 
any where in America. Illinois does grow 
some good wheat, but it is on the limestone 
ridges and timbered lands chiefly. The 
great prairies, unless in particular locali- 
