Farm Collector

HERE IS THE STORY, MR. SCARLAND

R. D. 1, Canal Fulton, Ohio

In the Sept.-Oct. issue we asked if anyone knew of the story of
the feeder who threw a boy into the thresher. In 1848 the thresher
would not be very extensive. It might have been anything from a
Groundhog to a hand fed and drag stacker machine. Note that the
original story stated that the man was hanged to the straw carrier
while in this story he was hanged to a beam of the barn. In a 104
years the story would naturally have some twists. Ed.

I am writing in answer to a question on page 2 of the Sept-Oct.
issue of the ALBUM, asking if anyone knew of a case in the
1880-85’s when a feeder, cut by a boy band cutter, threw the
boy into the separator, and then the crew hanged the feeder to the
beam in the barn.

I can give you some history concerning this tragedy, for it is
true.

I live two and a half miles northeast of the cemetery where the
man is buried. It is Clover Hill Cemetery and stands on a small
hill about one acre in size. It is on the east side of Stark and
Wayne County road. This is four miles south of Warwick, Ohio, Many
people come to see the dragon on the stone.

The grave is under a large evergreen tree and there are locust
trees growing over the marble slab that marks the grave. It could
be seen from the road, until the brush became so thick.

On the marble slab is the name Isaac Baughman, Died Jan. 3rd,
1848, at the age of 31 years. On the back or smooth side is the
image of a Dragon. This is in the grain of the marble which was
much plainer 40 or 50 years ago. The stone has been changed twice
and still the Dragon appears.

The boy was in his early teens. He was cutting bands and
accidently cut the man’s hand. The man, being a cruel fellow,
picked the boy up and threw him into the thresher. The other
helpers rounded the man up with pitchforks and hung him in the barn
on a beam.

In conclusion, I would like for you to read this poem by Raleigh
which is of true facts along with this story.

Even such is time, that takes in trust

Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with earth
and dust;

Who in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our
way;

Shuts up the sorry of our days;

But from this earth, this grave, this dust

My God shall rise me up, ‘I Trust’.

  • Published on Nov 1, 1952
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