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the call of the farm.
(Continued from Page Seven.)
He was asked what chance he thought
the city man had who undertook to
farm. We quote:
“If the average city boy would
give up chores at the end of his first
year and hike into the country, he
eould, by application, make a success
of farming. If he can take a course
in an agricultural school so much the
better.
“I met a young fellow who two
years ago was a newsboy. Today he
is a prosperous Indiana farmer. The
big chance for city men on the farm
is in the South. North Carolina is
ideal. Hundreds of acres of unde
veloped land can be purchased rea
sonably through the South.
“In the Southern States transpor
tation is good and getting better.
Modern homes, with bath and water
works, possibly with electric lights
and trolley service, are not impossi
ble.”
By no means “impossible.” Sure
ly such a prospect should prove allur
ing to the city boy, or young man,
working long hours for poor pay and
with no more than the barest hope of
advancement into comfortable com
petency when old age shall come upon
him. Why does the appeal not lure
more men back to the soil?
We hear much these days of the
growth of the cities in South Caro
lina and the South. That they are
growing largely at the expense of the
country population is beyond doubt.
The census of 1910 will, we venture
to predict, show that the increase of
urban population has been far and
away ahead of the increase in rural
population.
The trouble, we believe, is due
largely to a misapprehension of con
ditions of country life. The city man
feels that if he leaves the city he
must of necessity go out and “vege
tate,” far from all sound and sense.
But those to whom such a prospect is
not pleasing have forgotten what the
trolley, the telephone, the automobile,
and the rural mail delivery have
done to bring the farmer into inti
mate contact with the life about him.
There is too much misconception of
conditions all round. The city man
misconceives the conditions of mod
em country life, and the countryman,
on the other hand, misconceives the
supposed allurements of urban exist
ence. A campaign of education
would help to bring about a desirable
migration from city to country and
would do much to hold on the farm
those misguided youths who leave the
freedom and health of the country for
the chains and slavery of a $25-a
--month clerkship in a city store. —Co-
lumbia State.
SAM HOUSTON’S INDIAN WIFE
Mr. J. S. Holden, secretary of the
Editorial Association of Indian Ter
ritory, and editor of the Fort Gibson
Post, has added some exceedingly in
teresting facts to the story of Sam
Houston and his Cherokee wife. We
copy this extract from Mr. Holden’s
article on the subject: “Wilson’s
Rock is a beautiful spot on the Chero
kee side of the Arkansas river, on a
hill near the mouth of Skinbayou
creek. Here, in a cedar grove,
lived in a log cabin with his Chero
kee wife, the former governor of Ten
nessee and distinguished general. 1
was from here he started on horse
back for Texas, of which State he be
came the liberator and first governor.
Tahlihina (his wife) is said to have
been the most beautiful woman in
the Cherokee tribe, and Houston was
not ashamed of her. He wrote to
have her join him in Texas, which
she declined, saying she was an In
dian and would not be happy among
his white associates. It appears he
really loved her and resolved to see
her again in her forest abode had not
death intervened.
A half century and more than one
score years have gone since the fair
form of Tahlihina -was laid at rest
beneath the cedar shade at Wilson’s
Rock. During that time wonderful
transformations have taken place in
this Territory, now largely the abode
of the white men and civilization— a
wonderful change, indeed. And now
these remains rest at Fort Gibson, in
the United States National Ceme
tery. The inscription on the tomb
reads as follows:
Sacred to the Memory of
TAHLIHINA,
Cherokee Wife of
GEN. SAM HOUSTON,
Liberator of Texas.
Died at Wilson's Rock, C. N.,
In the Year 1838.
Removed to Fort Gihson
May 30, 1905.
—Magazine of American History.
* «
Musical people are unreasonable.
They want one to be perfectly dumb
when one is yearning to be absolutely
deaf.
Brother Jeffersonian, Get up a Club and send it in at once.
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WATSON’S WEEKLY JEFFERSONIAN.
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