Pentecostal Possibilities or "The Story of My Life"
by Milton Lorenzo (M. L.) Haney
CHAPTER 8
On the Farm
Father's strength declining and, Bro. Freeborn, who was four years older than myself, having left the farm to study for the ministry, I was left, practically, in charge of the farming interest at home when sixteen years old. Having perfect health and a strong body, it did not seem hard, though farm labor had largely to be substituted for much needed study in the schools. Up to that time we had no school building, but the few settlers combined and a log school house was soon erected. In this we had three months' drill each winter, and snatched what time we could for study outside the school. My only full brother, Henry, two years and a half younger than myself, was faithful in business, and made lighter the tasks which were laid upon me. Like myself, from early childhood he was the subject of strong religious impressions and in his eleventh year became an earnest Christian. There were no revival services at the time, but he was so wrought upon by the Holy Spirit, that he poured out his soul in his bedroom alone nearly a whole night without rising from his knees. Mother hearing his cries to God, visited him two or three times but he was so absorbed in seeking the Lord, that he scarcely noticed her! Before the breaking of the morning, light came to his soul and he was born of God. The happiness of the child the next day seemed unspeakable. He and I were cutting stocks in the field and it seemed he could not refrain from talking about what God had done for his soul. He insisted that I should be saved that day, till it was difficult to resist his pleadings; but my foolish heart did not yield till nearly three years afterwards. I never questioned my little brother's religion once, till I saw his spirit leave for glory ten years afterwards.
Farming in 1840 was in wonderful contrast with that of 1903. The ploughing had to be done with a wooden moldboard plow, with which only about one-half the number of acres could be broken that can now be ploughed with a single steel plow. When ground was thus broken, it would produce at least one-third less and the after work to care for it was much more difficult. The planting of corn by dropping with the hand and covering with a hoe was too tedious to think about. Thus planted the prairie squirrels had no difficulty in finding it, and its destruction was only bounded by their incapacity to eat it all ! Hence the drudgery of replanting, far beyond what now occurs. Caring for it with a single wooden moldboard plow was tedious and unsatisfactory. One man can now care for eighty acres with greater ease than for twenty then, and the number of bushels per acre in the former case exceed the latter. The contrast in raising of wheat then and now is, perhaps, not quite as great. The highest price we got for corn in those days, that I now remember, was ten cents per bushel, and I hauled dressed pork thirty miles and sold it at one dollar and a quarter per hundred! Wheat ranged from twenty to fifty cents per bushel. Yet we had plenty to eat and did not suffer from the cold. We paid twenty-five dollars for a wooden clock, twenty-five cents per yard for calico, one dollar for fifteen pounds of brown sugar. I paid five dollars per yard: for my first suit of broadcloth!
Men were not half so hurried as they are now. I heard of but one deranged man in our section of country in all my youth, and the whole West seemed like great brotherhood. Mothers usually raised large families of children, accomplished wonders in helping to provide the comforts of the home, were much more healthy and happy than now, and husbands and wives were rarely ever separated, except by death. I cannot call up a single case of divorce which I know of in all those early years. The hospitality of the West was in striking contrast with what it is now, and each man seemed always glad to see his neighbor. Honesty in dealing was generally expected and comparatively few intentionally wronged their neighbors. There is often a simplicity in pioneer life which is beautiful. We concede the absence of polish, but there was bigness of heart.
The cattle, hogs and horses of these Westerners were, as a rule, of a very imperfect character. A fat cow, weighing 500 pounds, was a monster. I remember one such, which was the talk of the whole country. There was also an extreme case of a cow whose milk actually made seven pounds of butter in a week, which was much more than double the ordinary yield. In the first years of Illinois life, porkers rarely ever dressed above 150 pounds. They usually had long crooked snouts, were of a gaunt build, with long legs, and very swift of foot. I undertook to make one of these the best specimen in the neighborhood, and by actual count he would devour twenty-two ears of Illinois corn at each feed, and at the end of months of feeding, he then being above two years old, weighed less than 200 pounds gross. The same treatment in 1900, with about one-half the quantity of food, would produce from 400 to 500 pounds. These creatures would often break away and roam in woodlands along the streams. In such cases they sustained themselves on nuts and grass, and became wild and vicious. It was one of our chief sports to hunt and recover these wild animals.
Brother Henry and I had succeeded in forcing one of the largest of a group to the edge of the timber, having brought him nearly two miles. Home was only 40 rods away, but when Mr. Porker saw the situation he resolved on a speedy return. We had feared a battle at this point, and Henry had dismounted to be more available in case of an emergency. I had pushed him from the brush into the prairie, but, seeing he could have no shelter in the open field, he dashed for the rear, and the boy was in his path with a short club as his only defense. I trembled for Henry, but he was master of the situation. As the hog came with opened mouth, shining teeth and a fearful dash, the boy stepped to the left of the path, and a skillful blow from that short club felled the terrible creature, and "Hank" was seated on him when I came up!
It was years before better blood was introduced into our stock, and, what appears strange, when it was offered a large majority of the settlers refused to avail themselves of it. I saw specimens of both Poland and China hogs, before the two bloods were blended, and was enchanted with them, but was overruled by older heads. In the last argument on the subject with an older brother he had insisted that the difference was not in the blood, but in the care taken of these pampered animals. I was angered and scornfully said: "Yes, it is just as well to get a Shetland pony, and feed him well, and he will soon turn up an English draft horse!" I think my brother never repeated that argument.
But in time the sickle gave way to the cradle, the cradle to the reaper, and the reaper to the reaper and binder; till now the farmer with a few men goes out into his standing harvest in the morning and hundreds of bushels of beautifully cleaned wheat in sacks are stored in his bin before sunset; while in a few days hundreds of acres of standing wheat are in elevators, or on their way to Europe! The old prairie rooter is replaced by the best blood in America, and Illinois has among the finest cattle and horses in the world. Its farming implements are hardly surpassed in any country, while school houses dot the whole territory, and its colleges are a marvel. Who can estimate the chances of a boy in 1903 as compared with those of a pioneer lad of sixty-five years ago?