"Among the many hidden gems in Bluegrass history is the state's long relationship with hemp, a history noted by a historical "Hemp Highway" destination. ... New organizations like Homestead Alternatives and Zelios, Inc. have taken that history into the modern world. Author Dan Isenstein details the history of the crop and the historic trail dedicated to it."--Back cover.
Among the many hidden gems in Bluegrass history is the state's long relationship with hemp, a history noted by a historical "Hemp Highway" designation. Archibald McNeil was the first to plant the crop in the state in 1775. In 1803, John Wesley Hunt opened the first hemp bagging factory in the United States and helped transform Lexington into the "Athens of the West." Another grower, Thomas Barbee, had a child with an enslaved person and freed his children on his deathbed. His grandson became a hemp grower as well. New organizations like Homestead Alternatives and Zelios Inc. have taken that history into the modern world. Author Dan Isenstein details the history of the crop and the historic trail dedicated to it.
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An historical novel which presents the economic importance of hemp as a early raw material for clothing, maritime ropes, and other cordage products. There is information about the growing and harvesting of hemp in this book.
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1908 edition. Excerpt: ...of them realized the poverty of the place and the need of money. The hour was already past the father's early bed-time. He straightened himself up now, and turning his back, took off his coat, hung it on the back of his chair, and began to unbutton his waistcoat, and rub his arms. The mother rose, and going to the high-posted bed in a corner of the room, arranged'the pillows, turned down the covers, and returning, sat provisionally on the edge of her chair and released her breastpin. David started up. " Mother, give me a candle, will you P " He went over with her to the closet, waited while she unlocked it and, thrusting her arm deep into its disordered depths, searched till she drew out a candle. No good-night was spoken; and David, with a look at his father and mother which neither of them saw, opened and closed the door of their warm room, and found himself in the darkness outside at the foot of the cold staircase. XIII A BED of crimson coals in the bottom of the grate was all that survived of his own fire. He sat down before it, not seeing it, his candle unlighted in his hand, a tragedy in his eyes. A comfortless room. Rag carpeting on the floor. No rug softening the hearthstones. The sashes of the windows loose in the frames and shaken to-night by twisty gusts. A pane of glass in one had been broken and the opening pasted over with a sheet of letter paper. This had been burst by an indolent hand, thrust through to close the shutters outside; and a current of cold air now swept across the small room. The man felt it, shook himself free of depressing thoughts, rose resolutely. He took from a closet one of his most worthless coats, and rolling it into a wad, stopped the hole. Going back to the grate, he piled on the...
