Frank's Ranche; Or, My Holiday in the Rockies: Being a Contribution to the Inquiry into What We Are to Do with Our BoysMarston, E. (Edward)
General
Frank's Ranche; Or, My Holiday in the Rockies: Being a Contribution to the Inquiry into What We Are to Do with Our Boys
Marston, E. (Edward)
Rocky Mountains -- Description and travel
My youngest son Frank, who has always been somewhat of a rolling stone,
and to whom, in the old country, neither wool nor pelf would stick, is
now settled away up at the foot of the Rocky Mountains; and when he has
sometimes written to me for money, and I have asked him how he has spent
it, his answer has invariably been "Come and see!"
Year after year I have put off going, but now I am beginning to feel
that if I am ever to go, I must delay no longer; so I am about to see
with my own eyes where my money has gone to, and what may be the chances
of any portion of it coming back to me.
Frank was always a peculiar youth to manage. He began life in my City
counting-house, but he soon tired of it. He had formed the notion that
he was better suited to the free life of the prairie than to the routine
work of City business. Of course he knew nothing about prairie life, and
he would not be persuaded that his notions were but the outcome of a
disordered imagination; he was well off where he was, with fair chances
before him; but he was quite prepared to throw those chances away, and
to strike out into the Far West. He was a strong, healthy, good-looking
youth, fond of society, and very popular, and consequently, was
gradually being led into habits of extravagance which might have ended
badly. I was therefore, willing to humour his wishes.
In the year 1880 I paid his passage to America, and he began his career
by engaging himself to a farmer in Minnesota, who for a small stipend
was to instruct him in farming and give him his board in exchange for
his work.
When Frank began with the farmer, it is not too much to say that he was
totally ignorant of everything belonging to a farm; but he had not been
on this farm for six months before he became convinced that he had
learnt everything there was to learn, and that he could give a few
wrinkles to his master.
Then he told me that there was a wonderful farm to be had close at hand,
dirt cheap, a chance not to be lost; it was a small place of about 200
acres with good house and building, and splendid feeding prairie-land
adjoining. This, he said, was just the place for him to begin on; and he
produced such elaborate figures to prove to me that, although the
previous occupant had failed there, enormous profits—one hundred per
cent. at least—could be made of it, if managed in accordance with his
enlightened views, rather than in the humdrum way in which the previous
farmer had come to grief. He wrote to me so urgently, so persistently,
so enthusiastically, that I, although with many misgivings, found him
the money wherewith to purchase and stock the place. More money was
expended on that farm than I am now willing to acknowledge, but
everything went along swimmingly for a short period.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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