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LETTERS FROM HOME - 1892

Written by John H. Folkerts

This letter was obtained from Eldon Folkerts and prepared for text by Barth Weistart

Minonk, Ill. 26 March 1892

Dear Son and family,

Your letter from 13 March we received and found out you are all healthy. We have already very nice spring weather, but until now we still have night frost, so too cold to sow the oats. We hope that next week they can do the work. The winter this year was mild. The corn hasn't been shelled yet.

Henry couldn't do much because of the damp weather.

Corn is 33 cents per bushel. Oats 23 cents per bushel. Butter 20 cents per lb. Eggs are 12 cents a doz., got up to 22 cents and 24 cents this winter.

Henry has 3 cows. One Jersey cow had a calf last fall. From the milk we made butter and sold the butter this winter. The other cow is going to have a calf in May. The other is 1 years old. We butchered 2 hogs and sold 2. From 3 sows he kept only 10 pigs. He sold them because it was too cold. Six baby pigs froze to death. Three are left to have pigs. He has 8 horses, 3 old ones and 1 is going to have a colt. One 3 year old they have harnessed and runs good. He has 2-2 year old ones and 2 that are 1 year old. He is going to sell one horse and was offered $125 for it.

John has to sell his farm and he wants to buy 160 acres. Julius wants to buy a farm from Mr. Kolb and he lives near Garrett Folkerts. It is $95. An acre, but they don't know for sure.

Henry has plenty bills to pay to Doctor Serry (?), the funeral, the pastor got $30. And burial plot $25. Carl and Weert, they can't do it either

. A good man is one that can help himself. Can't write very much news.

________Poppe had an accident last fall. He fell off the wagon and lost his hearing. After the buggy wreck he walked the railroad to Minonk. Because he lost his hearing he couldn't hear the train coming and got run over and killed. Everyone was sad.

Hearty greetings from Henry.

Your dear Dad,
John H. Folkerts

Greet all the family members, friends and relatives. Don't forget to write again. Nobody knows how close death can be. "My God in Christs blood make my end good."