The Story of Tower Farm
Those who find in history any interest or charm,
There's something quite romantic in the tale of Tower Farm.
Away off in England, very many years ago
A gentleman named B's was plunged in heavy woe,
His wife he'd lost, and what made grief more profound
He had seen before his eyes, his two fair daughters drowned.
The old scenes were too painful, he longed afar to roam,
So he sailed away to Canada to establish a new home.
With other friends he ventured to this our own fair land
And bought a tract of country along Rice Lake strand.
That 'mid strange new surroundings he might perhaps forget
His trials great and many--and might even be happy yet.
Not far from the Lake he selected a fine site,
From where through the trees he could glimpse the water bright.
He found a rounded knell on a gently sloping hill
And there began to exercise his architectural skill.
I must explain just here, he had a most eccentric mind
And a building such as his--you could hardly find.
It was eight stories high, and in form an octagon,
With woodwork of red cedar, and walls of brick and stone.
And of rooms upon each floor, there was really only one
From the basement a stair ladder led to the upper storey
Which was finished, so we're told--as an observatory.
What was the means of ingress, I cannot now declare
But a subterranean passage led to outer air.
These tower rooms were furnished with rare brick-a-brack and china,
Such silver and quaint furniture are not now found in Mina.
On Sundays when the settlers round came to the Tower to meeting
The host would stop his service to give latecomers greeting.
He fraternized with th' Indians, wore their blanket suit and belt,
With knife or tomahawk attached, and moccasins of soft felt.
But there was one thing in their dress at which he drew the line,
His own good head-gear, he would simply not resign.
He must have cut a figure. One could hardly fail to see
In this peculiar garb, sure proof of his eccentricity,
And when in frosty weather he drove to the nearest town
He wore his high silk topper, with silk kerchief fastened down.
But some years of country living, thus near to nature's heart
Did not bring him satisfaction. He decided to depart
To fresher field and pastures new, so his Tower, land and store
He sold to a wealthy Scotchman and was seen round here no more.
That tarried long at wine--and forgot his estate
In drunken stupor. Thus he almost met his fate
When the tower with all its treasures was burned quite to the ground--
Though he managed to escape. After some looking around
He built a more modern house on some-what level space
And planted trees and made of it a very charming place.
But in this fair Eden came the serpent--Drink--Again
And brought as always in its wake--shame, suffering and pain
At last his wife's fond hope, that if a change he'd make
He might in new environment be able to forsake
His evil habit, and again Tower Farm was sold
And they went to California which then lured men by its gold
Since then the Farm has had its share of changes and reverse
But now 'twill surely prosper--under Mr. and Mrs. Nurse.
-- E. Keele
* The post office for the Tower before Rural Routes were instituted.