Farming In Dakota

"Yes, sir," resumed the Dakota man, s the crowd of agriculturists drew ack f rom the bar and seated themelves around a little table, "yes, sir, we do things on rather a sizable scale. I've seen a man on dne of our big arms start out in the spring and plough a straight furrow until fall. Uien he turned round and harvested bao." "Carry his grub with him?" asked a Breoklyn farmer, who raises cabbages on the outskirts. "Mo sir. They follow him up with a steam hotel and have relays of men to change plows for him. We have some big farms up there, gentlemen. A friend of mine owned one on whicn he had to give a mortgage, and I pledge y ou my word, the mortgage was du e on one end before they could get it recorded at 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 man who lives in my orchard, just before I left home, and it had been three weeks getting to the dwelling-house, although it had traveled day and night." "Distanees 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 hovvling, and dogs barking. One of my men had his camp truck packed on seven four-mule teams and he was around bidding everybody goodbye." "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 tor him yet," returned the Dakota gentleman. "Up there we ssnd young married couples to milk the cow3, and theirchildrenbring home the milk." "I understand that yoiijhave fine mines up that way,"ventured a Jamaica turnip planter. "Yes, but we only use the quartz for fencing," said the Dakota man testing the blade of his knif e with his thumb. preparatory to whetting it on his boot "It won't pay to crush it, because we can make more money on wheat. 1 put ineighty-nine hundred townsnips of wheat last spring." "How many acres would that be?" "We don't count by acres. We count by townsiiip3 and counties. My yield was $68,000,000 on wheat alone, and I'm thinking of breaking up from eighty to a hundred more counties next season." "How do you get the heip for such extensive operations?" asked the New Utrecht man. 'Oh, labor is cheap," replied the Dakota man. "You can get all you want for from $29 to $47 a day. In fact I never paid over $38." "Is land cheap?" "No, land is high. Not that it costs anything, for it don't; but under the laws of the Territory you have got to take so much or none. I was in luck. I had a friend at Yankton who got a bilí through the Legislature allowing me to take 520,000 square miles, which is the smallest farm there, taouga it is-" "Look here," said the barkeeper, as the Eastern husbandmen strolled out in a bunch to consider the last statement, "Is all this you've been telling, true?" "Certainly," responded the Western man; "at least it is a modiflcation of what I saw in a Dakota paper that was wrapped around a pair of shoes last night. I didn't dare put it as strong as the paper did, for no one would believe it. You can slatethat last round of drinks and I'll pay in the morning. I live riffht here on Myrtle avenue."