Book farmers and their ways--Some Englishmen lack
adaptiveness--Doctoring sick sheep by the book--Failures in
farming--Young Englishmen sent out to try life in Canada--The
sporting farmer--The hunting farmer--The country school-teacher.
Book farmers come to us now and again. These are usually persons from
Britain, possessing some means, but not sufficient to make them
gentlemen at home. They have had no particular knowledge of farming at
home, but since farming is supposed to be so easy a matter in Canada,
they do not for a moment doubt their ability to get on with a farm. They
resort to the best works on agriculture; and after the perusal of a few
volumes really begin to flatter themselves that they have a very
superior knowledge of farming, and are able to teach the Canadian on his
native heath just how it ought to be done. Such a man purchases his farm
and usually pays the cash down for it, and for his stock as well.
Searching over the community he finds a pair of the heaviest horses he
can, for the light Canadian horses, he knows, will be of no use to him,
and he gets some long poles made at the nearest carpenter shop, and
hires the village painter to paint them in black and red sections that
he may set them up for his man to strike out his lands by in ploughing.
Light, strong, durable Canadian harness is not to his mind, for he
recollects seeing the plough horses in England return from the fields
with great broad back-bands on their harness, to which were attached
immense iron chains of traces, and he follows suit. And he sets John to
ploughing, properly equipped, not for a moment doubting the result of
all this preparation. And after a proper method of ploughing he does
raise fair crops as a rule, for our lands are ordinarily so rich that if
they have even a fair show at all they will produce. Harvest-time coming
on, many other hands are brought into requisition, and he follows up the
old time-honored custom in England of serving up the quart of beer per
day to each hand. In due time his harvest is all garnered properly, and
his work nicely done. His man comes in in the morning and tells him,
about the time the first few rains come on, that “one of the sheep is
sick.” “All right, John, I will attend to it,” for, of course, he can,
for he knows he has at his elbow, upon the shelf, somebody’s treatise on
the sheep, which is the best extant. The sheep volume is brought down
and closely scanned, and the right page describing the disease sheep
ought to have at this time of the year found. With the volume under arm
he sallies forth to view the sheep, while John follows with the
remedies. Arrived at the sheep he adjusts his spectacles at the proper
angle upon his nose, and intently examines his sick patient The more he
examines his patient and gets at its symptoms the more he is in doubt
if the symptoms really correspond with those mentioned on the particular
page of the treatise.
Shoving the spectacles up just a little closer on his nose he
re-examines his patient, and glances from the patient to the book, the
quandary all the time deepening in his mind. John is not allowed to
suggest that the sheep has caught cold by lying in some exposed place
through the last storm, and that he only wants warmth and food. It would
never do to give in to John, for “what has John read about sheep?” The
proper remedy is at last hit upon. There can possibly be no doubt about
it, but to make assurance doubly sure he re-reads the page and looks his
patient over again. No doubt this time, and John is sent to the house
for a bottle, from which he will administer the proper remedy
internally. John returns with the bottle, with a little water in it, and
our book farmer adds the proper remedy and shakes it up thoroughly. All
being ready, John makes the poor sheep swallow the mixture, much against
its will, for it’s the most noxious stuff it ever had in its life, and
the book farmer quietly awaits the result, his spectacles gradually
continuing to slip away from the bridge of his nose, and to run an
imminent risk of falling off the extreme end of that important organ.
Some twenty minutes now elapse and John says the sheep is worse.
Back upwards again the spectacles are pushed, and the patient critically
examined. While the examination is going on the sheep dies under his
gaze. “Dear me; how can that be? I must have got the wrong page. Oh,
yes, I see, I did get the wrong page. Never mind, John, I will fix the
next one up all right in case it becomes ill.” And he closes the book
with a snap, and goes back again to his library.
Such book farmers invariably have failed in Ontario. I defy any reader
to fix on any one such book farmer who has succeeded. When he comes to
strike his balances, after his crops have been marketed, and has taken
an inventory of stock, he finds that his crops have cost him more than
they brought back in cash. Another year will remedy that, however, and
he tries it again, only to find the balance on the wrong side once more.
Usually two years suffice to teach this book farmer that he is not a
farmer, but he may possibly hold on for three seasons. Then he calls a
sale, sells or rents his farm, and gets a neat, comfortable little
dwelling in some neighboring town, which is quite sufficient for him and
his household, even if it be not palatial in its appointments. From his
retirement he writes back to England that farming won’t pay in Canada,
for he has tried it, and it certainly will not pay.
This does a great deal of harm, and our country gets in bad odor among
many persons at home, when the book farmer alone is to blame, and not
the country.
As to failures at farming, I do not think you can call to mind the
failure of any farmer in Ontario, on any good farm, who farms his land
in right down earnest. Benjamin Franklin said:
“He who by the plough would thrive,
Must himself both hold and drive.”
And that was perfectly true then as now. Look at the farmer in Ontario
who rolls up his shirt sleeves and follows the plough, who does as much
work himself as he possibly can, and only hires for doing that which he
can’t do himself, and you will find that farmer succeeding.
We have been getting in Ontario of late another class of farmers whom I
wish to speak of. They are the sons of men of means in Britain. Usually
they are about twenty years of age, and have just left their schools and
homes. Every avenue at home being so full, they are sent to Canada to
learn farming, with the parent’s view of buying them a farm as soon as
they have learned the occupation. Sometimes these persons pay a small
sum to our good farmers, annually, to be taught farming, but they are to
work at the same time the same as a hired man. Such a one has worn good
clothes all his life, and the transition from a tight-fitting, neat suit
to garments suitable for shovelling manure into the waggon is very
sudden and hard to endure. A blister or two is on his hands at night,
and his back aches from bending so many times all day with his fork for
the billets of manure out of the heap. That night he tosses upon his
bed, for his bones even are tired and ache, but he is up betimes next
morning and at it again, only to find that he has more blisters on his
hands again in the evening. If he sticks to it he soon gets accustomed
to the work, his blistered hands get all calloused over, blisters are no
more dreaded, and he stands his work well. Those who stick to the work
succeed and learn to farm well, but in very many cases he gives up and
goes to town, and waits, all anxiety, for the next remittance from home.
For a couple of years the remittances come to him pretty regularly, and
our young would-be farmer is a gentleman about town. During those two
years, however, some very urgent letters have been written home for
money, and thus far they have not failed to draw. At this lapse of time,
and after the receipt of so many letters asking for money, it begins to
dawn upon the parental mind that the son is not sticking to the farm in
Canada.
Reluctantly and grieving, the parent makes up his mind to send no more
until his son will begin to do something himself. Our would-be farmer
then gets some light occupation, and does not fail to continue to write
for money. Mamma, with a mother’s love, may still send over a few
pounds, but if all the pounds cease to come, go to work he must at last.
It is hard to get at what these young men really will do in the end.
Some even get so low as to drive a circus waggon, while others work as
day laborers in some of our manufactories. When some months roll round,
and the parents at home find that their son is still alive and promising
amends, past offences are condoned and more remittances follow. And so
the years and months slip by, money-less at times and again flush.
It really appears to us here in Ontario that the families from whence
these young men come have no end of means, and we grieve to see them
fooling away their time and opportunities. Who ever heard of learning to
farm in that manner, or who ever heard of any one succeeding in Canada
by such methods of life?
I am glad to say, however, that many such young men who are sent out to
learn farming do succeed. They who have the grit in them, and who really
make up their minds to work, do, notwithstanding the blisters on their
hands, or callosities, or tired limbs, get over them all and become
self-sustaining and good citizens.
For those who will work we have plenty of room, and good places are
always open to them, but the man who comes to us, and who cannot throw
off his Oxford suit and don blue overalls and shovel manure when it is
required, will not succeed as a farmer in Ontario.
A class of farmer in Ontario I may say a word or two about is the
sporting farmer. Usually he is the owner of 150 acres or so of inherited
lands, upon which are good buildings, which his father erected, and also
cleared the forest from the land. He’s not going to take anybody’s dust
on the roads, and he procures a horse which can pass that of any of his
neighbors. For a time this satisfies him, but sporting men begin to find
him out, and tell him where he can get a colt which can go in less than
three minutes. Gradually he comes to think that he might as well get
[Illustration: A SAILING CANOE ON LAKE ONTARIO]
a colt, for it will make a fine driver, and now and again he can win
some races, which will go to reduce the price he must pay for him.
Entering him at the races, he must necessarily be prepared to back his
own horse, and he makes his first bet on a horse-race. Once more
sporting men are too sharp for him, for though his horse makes a good
dash and behaves well upon the track, it comes in just a head behind,
and far enough in the rear to lose the race. He is assured, however,
that with some training his colt will do better, and he pays a
professional trainer to train him.
At the next race he enters him again, and again backs his own horse, for
success is this time assured. By some mischance this time he again loses
the race, and his money at the same time. But by this time his courage
is up, and he’s bound to win, so he buys a better horse. Again the
process goes on, at the end of which he still finds himself out of
pocket. The 150-acre farm, which his father prided never yet bore a
mortgage, now gets “a plaster” put on it. While this racing has been
going on, his farm has been neglected, and does not produce as formerly,
so that he is in a poorer position to pay the interest on the mortgage
and make both ends meet at the same time. In most cases such young men
lose their farms, and at middle age have to begin at the bottom of the
ladder and work their way up by themselves and unaided. Fortunately for
them, however, they know how to work, and can get along even in their
reduced state.
The hunting farmer is another class which we have in Ontario. Like his
sporting brethren, he, too, has inherited a farm and can easily make a
living, and some money besides. He keeps some hounds and a
breech-loader. Do a flock of pigeons fly over, the plough is left in the
field to get a shot at them, and the balance of that half day is
consumed. Or it may be that some ducks are around in the swamp or creek
a mile or so from his house, and a day must be given to them.
A fox has been seen around some hills in the neighborhood, and he must
have a day with the hounds. While all this is going on, with the press
of work, while he really is at home, many things are neglected. Fences,
which his father used to pride himself in keeping always trim, begin to
lean. A gate has lost its lower hinge, and a few shingles have blown off
the corner of his barn. Gradually his farm loses its neat, trim
appearance, and the neighbors begin to call Johnny So-and-so a shiftless
fellow. Hunting farmers do not usually lose their farms, for their
losses are mainly through want of care for their farms. Unlike his
sporting brother, he does not bet, but has a keen zest for the chase,
and must indulge in it.
If you will look about you, you will find that such persons do not add
to their means, but just get a fair living from their farms, and do not
make any great improvements on the homestead. His neighbor beside him,
who may take even a day now and again for a hunt, but who daily plods
along and follows his plough and drives his own horses, has bought
another farm and has a credit at his bankers or at some loan and savings
company.
The country school-teacher under the old order of things, and before the
school law was amended, deserves a notice. Numbers of these old
school-teachers, who furbished up their faculties and got passably well
qualified to teach an ordinary district country school in the past, in
many instances married the daughters of neighboring farmers, who
attended their schools as pupils. In some instances, without a doubt,
this teacher had occasion to punish his future wife for some slight
infraction of school laws. Causing her to stand upon the floor or to
write an extra exercise was a frequent method of such punishments.
Becoming the teacher’s wife must, in after years, one would say, make
the position rather anomalous, and would, one would think, be a
delicate, debatable ground between husband and wife as the years rolled
on. Ontario wives are noted for their urbanity, but in such instances it
would be manifestly fair for the wife and former pupil to indulge in a
little punishment for some infractions by her husband of new rules as
the time went by. She could not fairly be blamed if she now and again
gave him an extra dose of salt in his porridge, or refused him a light
in the evening to do his reading by, or even indulged at a little pull
of his whiskers, to pay off old scores of ante-nuptial days. We,
however, charitably infer that, at the time the teacher insisted upon
his punishments of his future wife, Cupid had not got around. These
marriages have uniformly been happy ones, and these former teachers have
become successful men after turning farmers. In many instances they get
farms with their pupil wives, and having the work in them, usually
succeed, and become good men for our country. Such former teachers are
frequently found in our township councils, are school trustees, and
useful men generally. As their children grow up to the age of
understanding, it, however, must be just a little funny for their
children to know that “pa” formerly punished “ma” in school, and they
are always bound to aver that “ma” has not yet got even with “pa” in the
account of punishment.