THE FARMING OF THE FUTURE;
Or, What British Agriculture is coming to.
Scene—A Car on an Electric Light-railway.
Time—The Twentieth Century.
First Farmer (recognising Second Farmer). Why, 'tis Muster Fretwail, surelie! didn't see it was you afore. And how be things gettin' along with you, Sir, eh?
Farmer Fretwail (lugubriously). 'Mong the middlin's, Muster Lackaday; 'mong the middlin's! Nothen doin' just now—nothen 't all!
Third Farmer (enviously). Well, you hevn't no call fur to cry out, neighbour! I see you've got a likely lot o' noo 'oardins comin' up all along your part o' the line. I wish mine wur arf as furrard, I know thet!
F. Fretwail. Ah, them "Keep yer 'air on"'s, you mean, Ryemouth. I don't deny as they was lookin' tidy enough a week back. But just as I was makin' ready fur to paint up "Try it on a Billiard Ball," blamed if this yere frost didn't set in, and now theer's everything at a standstill wi' the brushes froze 'ard in the pots!
F. Ryemouth. 'Tis the same down with me. Theer's a acre o' "Bunyan's Easy Boots" as must hev a noo coat, and I cann't get nothen done to 'en till th' weather's a bit more hopen like. Don' keer 'ow soon we hev a change, myself, I don't!
F. Lackaday. Nor yet me, so long as we don't 'ave no gales with it. Theer was my height-acre pasture as I planted only las' Candlemas wi' "Roopy's Lung Tonics"—wunnerful fine and tall they was, too—and ivery one on 'en blowed down the next week!
F. Fretwail. Well, I 'ope theer wun't be no rain, neither, come to that. I know I 'ad all the P's of my "Piffler's Persuasive Pillules" fresh gold-leaved at Michaelmas, and it come on wet directly arter I done it, and reg'lar washed the gilt out o' sight an' knowledge, it did. Theer ain't no standin' up agen rain!
F. Ryemouth. I dunno as I wouldn't as lief hev rain as sun. My "Hanti-Freckle Salves" all blistered up and peeled afoor the summer was 'ardly begun a'most.
F. Lackaday. 'Tis a turr'ble 'ard climate to make 'ead against, is ourn. I've 'eard tell as some farmers are takin' to they enamelled hiron affairs, same as they used to hev when I wur a lad. I mind theer wur a crop o' "Read Comic Cagmag" as lingered on years arter the paper itself. Not as I hold with enamelling, myself—'tain't what I call 'igh farmin'—takes too much outer the land in my 'pinion.
F. Fretwail. Aye, aye. "Rotation o' boards." Say, "Spooner's Sulphur Syrup" fur a spring crop, follered with some kind o' soap or candles, and p'raps cough lozengers, or hembrocation, or bakin' powder, if the soil will bear it, arterwards—that's the system I wur reared on, and theer ain't no better, 'pend upon it!
F. Ryemouth. I tell 'ee what 'tis; it's time we 'ad some protection agen these yere furrin advartisements. I was travellin' along the Great Northern tother day, and I see theer was two or three o' them French boards nigh in ivery field, a downright shame an' disgrace I call it, disfigurin' the look o' the country and makin' it that ontidy—let alone drivin' honest British boards off the land. Goverment ought to put a stop to it; that's what I say!
F. Lackaday. They Parliment chaps don't keer what becomes of us poor farmers, they don't. Look at last General Election time. They might ha' given our boards a turn; but not they. Most o' they candidates did all their 'tisin' with rubbishy flags and balloons—made in Japan, Sir, every blamed one o' them! And they wonder British Agriculture don't prosper more!
F. Ryemouth. Speakin' o' queer ways o' hadvertisin', hev any on ye set eyes on that farm o' young Fullacrank's? Danged if iver I see sech tomfool notions as he's took up with in all my born days!
F. Fretwail. Why, what hev he bin up to now, eh?
F. Ryemouth. Well, I thought I shud ha' bust myself larfin' when I see it fust. Theer ain't not a board nor a sky sign; no, nor yet a 'oarding, on the 'ole of his land!
F. Lackaday. Then how do he expect to get a profit out of it?—that's what I want to year.
F. Ryemouth. You'll 'ardly credit it, neighbours, but he's been buryin' some o' they furrin grains, hoats and barley, an' I dunno what not, in little 'oles about his fields, so as to make the words, "Use Faddler's Non-farinaceous Food"—and the best on it is the darned young fool expecks as 'ow it'll all sprout come next Aperl—he do indeed, friends!
F. Fretwail. Flyin' in the face o' Providence, I calls it. He must ha' gone clean out of his senses!
F. Lackaday. Stark starin' mad. I never heerd tell o' such extravagance. Why, as likely as not, 'twill all die off o' the land afore the year's out—and wheer wull he be then?
F. Ryemouth. Azackly what I said to 'en myself. "You tek my word for it," I sez, "'twun't niver come to no good. The nateral crop for these yere British Hisles," I told 'en, "is good honest Henglish hoak an' canvas," I sez, "and 'tain't the action of no sensible man, nor yet no Christian," sez I, "to go a drillin' 'oles and a-droppin' in houtlandish seeds from Canada an' Roosha, which the sile wasn't never intended to bear!"
Farmers Fretwell and Lackaday. Rightly spoke, neighbour Ryemouth, 'twas a true word! But theer'll be a jedgement on sech new-fangled doin's, and, what's moor, you and I will live fur to see it afore we're very much older!
[They all shake their heads solemnly as scene closes in.
"Pistols Bill."—Sir, I am not much of a newspaper reader, but I flatter myself on being a fair Shakspearian student. Judge my delight, then, Sir, on seeing that "Pistols Bill" was recently the subject of parliamentary discussion. I "read no more that day," but, satisfied with the heading, at once write to you to know if "Falstaff's Bill" (with the small item of "bread" in it) will next come under discussion? I am, indeed, rejoiced to find that our British Parliament has now before it a subject worthy of consideration.
Yours, A Worshipper of the Bard.
Sporting Query.—Why is it pretty certain that Captain Gratwicke, of the National Rifle Association, will not run a horse, or if he does he will not employ the jockey he had originally intended, for this year's Derby? Because at a meeting of the N. R. A. it was announced that "Captain Gratwicke withdrew his proposed rider."
