Reed Anthony, Cowman | Page 2

my boyhood was a trip to Baltimore. There was
no railroad at the time, and as that was our market for fat cattle, it was
necessary to drive the entire way. My father had made the trip yearly
since I could remember, the distance being nearly two hundred miles,
and generally carrying as many as one hundred and fifty big beeves.
They traveled slowly, pasturing or feeding grain on the way, in order
that the cattle should arrive at the market in salable condition. One
horse was allowed with the herd, and on another my father rode, far in
advance, to engage pasture or feed and shelter for his men. When on
the road a boy always led a gentle ox in the lead of the beeves; negro
men walked on either flank, and the horseman brought up the rear. I
used to envy the boy leading the ox, even though he was a darky. The
negro boys on our plantation always pleaded with "Mars" John, my
father, for the privilege; and when one of them had made the trip to
Baltimore as a toll boy he easily outranked us younger whites. I must
have made application for the position when I was about seven years
old, for it seemed an age before my request was granted. My brother,

only two years older than I, had made the trip twice, and when I was
twelve the great opportunity came. My father had nearly two hundred
cattle to go to market that year, and the start was made one morning
early in June. I can distinctly see my mother standing on the veranda of
our home as I led the herd by with a big red ox, trembling with fear that
at the final moment her permission might be withdrawn and that I
should have to remain behind. But she never interfered with my father,
who took great pains to teach his boys everything practical in the cattle
business.
It took us twenty days to reach Baltimore. We always started early in
the morning, allowing the beeves to graze and rest along the road, and
securing good pastures for them at night. Several times it rained,
making the road soft, but I stripped off my shoes and took it barefooted
through the mud. The lead ox was a fine, big fellow, each horn tipped
with a brass knob, and he and I set the pace, which was scarcely that of
a snail. The days were long, I grew desperately hungry between meals,
and the novelty of leading that ox soon lost its romance. But I was
determined not to show that I was tired or hungry, and frequently, when
my father was with us and offered to take me up behind him on his
horse, I spurned his offer and trudged on till the end of the day. The
mere driving of the beeves would have been monotonous, but the
constant change of scene kept us in good spirits, and our darkies always
crooned old songs when the road passed through woodlands. After the
beeves were marketed we spent a day in the city, and my father took
my brother and me to the theatre. Although the world was unfolding
rather rapidly for a country boy of twelve, it was with difficulty that I
was made to understand that what we had witnessed on the stage was
but mimicry.
The third day after reaching the city we started on our return. The
proceeds from the sale of the cattle were sent home by boat. With only
two horses, each of which carried double, and walking turn about, we
reached home in seven days, settling all bills on the way. That year was
a type of others until I was eighteen, at which age I could guess within
twenty pounds of the weight of any beef on foot, and when I bought
calves and yearling steers I knew just what kind of cattle they would

make at maturity. In the mean time, one summer my father had gone
west as far as the State of Missouri, traveling by boat to Jefferson City,
and thence inland on horseback. Several of our neighbors had
accompanied him, all of them buying land, my father securing four
sections. I had younger brothers growing up, and the year my oldest
brother attained his majority my father outfitted him with teams,
wagons, and two trusty negro men, and we started for the nearest point
on the Ohio River, our destination being the new lands in the West. We
embarked on the first boat, drifting down the Ohio, and up the other
rivers, reaching the Ultima Thule of our hopes within a month. The
land was new; I liked it; we lived on venison and wild turkeys, and
when once we