Rensselaer Republican, Volume 14, Number 14, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 December 1881 — Dakota Farms. [ARTICLE]

Dakota Farms.

Brooklyn Eagle. » “Yes sir,” resumed the Dakota man as the crowd of agriculturists drew back from the bar and Seated themselves around a little table, “yes sir,’ we do things on rather a Sizable scale.. I’ve seen a man on ons of our big farms start out in the sprifig and plow a straight furrow until fill. Then he turned around and harvested back.” “Carry his gruo with him?” asked a Brooklyn farmer, who raised cabbage on the outskirts. VNo/slr. Ttyey follow him up with a steam hotel, and have relays of men to change plows for him. We have some big farms up therej gentleman. A friend of mine owned ofie on which he had to give a mortgage, land I pledge you my word, the mortgage was due ■on one end before they could get it recorded on the other. You see it was laid off in counties. ’ There was a murmur Of astonishment, and the Dakota man continued; “I got a letter from a ma i who lives in my orchard just before lefi home, and it had been three weekH getting to the dwelling house, though it traveled night an day.” “Distances are pretty wide up there, ain’t they?” inquired a New Utrecht agriculturist. - “Reasonably, reasonably,” replied the Dakota man. “And the worst of it is, it breaks up families so. Two years ago I saw a whole family prostrated with grief- Women yelling, children howling and dogs barking. One of my men had his camp truck Sacked on seven four-mule teams and e was around bidding everybody good-bye.” “Where was he going?” asked a Gravesend man. “He was going half-way across the farm, to feed the pigs,” replied the Dakota man. “Did he ever get back to his family?” “It isn’t time for him yet.” returned the Dakota gentleman. “Up there we send young married couples to milk the cows, and their children bring home the milk.” “j understand you have fine mines up that way,” ventured a Jamiact tur-nip-planter. “Yes, but we only use the quartz for fencing,” said the Dakota man, testing the blade of his knife with liis thumb, nrepartory to whetting it on his boot. “It won’t pay to crush it because we can make more money on wheat. I put In 8,000 townships in wheat last spring ” 11“ I low many acres would that be?” “We don’t count by acres. We count by townships ami counties. My vi<-ld whs iGS 000,000 on wheat alone, and I’m Thinking of breaking up from BO to >OO more counties next season.” “How do you get the help for such extensive ojieratlons?” asked the New Utrecht runn “Oh, labor Is cheap,” replied iho Dakota man. “You can get all you want for S2O to $47 a day. in fact, I never paid over $38.” “Is land cheap?” “No, laud Is ’ ,u. Not that It costs anything, for it don’t; but under the laws of the territory you have got to tak? so much or none. I was in luck. Had a friend at Yanton who got a l>ill through the legislature allowing me to take 420,000 square ntlles, which |s the smallest farm there th.rgh it |h—” “Look here,” said the barkeeper, hs the eastern husbandmen strolled out Ina bunch tp consider the last statement. “Is all this thing vou’ve been telling true?” “Certainly,” responded ths western man; “at least it is a modification of what I saw in a Dakota patier that was wrapped around a pair of shoes last night. I didn't dare to put it a» strong as the paper did, for no one would believe Jt. You can slate that last round of drinks and I’ll pay in the morning- I live right here n Myrtle avenue.” The beat sermon in the world never yet reconciled the proud man, trying to curl his feet up and out of sight under the pew, tn the painfully obtrusive and evident fact that the wife of his bosom had used his blacking-brush to polish the kitchen stove.