ever passed by; a grove of orange trees was nothing in comparison to it. Since it was such a novelty I am mentioning it, for it is the first instance I ever knew of. The farmer, who had one hundred swarms of bees, explained that his bees had been feeding upon the basswood trees, but now that they had got too far developed he wanted this sweet clover for later feed. And this bee-keeper averred that it fully paid him for sowing the eight acres of sweet clover.
Fruit prospects were never more promising than they were last spring. Our trees were one literal mass of blows. If they had all borne fruit the consequence would have been most disastrous, for all the trees would have been broken down. Of course, most of them fell off. It is not frost we so much fear in Ontario for blight of our buds, for we seldom get a frost severe enough for that after the blows come. Blight usually comes from a dry east or south-east wind, blowing steadily for a couple of days. This fact is so well known that on many trees the south-east side will be perfectly void of fruit, while the north-west side, which was sheltered by the rest of the tree, will be in bearing. We shall be able to send to British markets hundreds of thousands of apples this fall, which over there they so highly prize. But let the fruit-grower ever remember that he can’t get the prized red cheeks on his fruit unless Old Sol shines upon it. In order that he may do so the trees must be pruned quite open to let him peep among the branches.
A goodly and beautiful land we possess. We can raise anything which will grow in this temperate zone. Our lands are fat and not exhausted. Artificial manures we do not need, and they are scarcely known among us. In thickly populated Germany and Switzerland hillsides are spaded where too steep for the plough, and the husbandman succeeds in that method upon small holdings. The French peasant, to whom ten acres is a good-sized farm, does not plough his land, but turns it over, away down deep, fourteen inches or so, with a bent bill-hook, and he succeeds, and he and his family are independent and save money. We have room in Canada, not speaking of the North-West, for millions upon millions of persons, who will cultivate many patches of land now unused or in pasture. Health, independence and success await those who will get upon our lands and make an honest, downright manly effort.
CHAPTER XII.
Ontario in June—Snake fences—Road-work—Alsike clover fields—A natural grazing country—Barley and marrowfat peas—Ontario in July—Barley in full head—Ontario is a garden—Lake Ontario surpasses Lake Geneva or Lake Leman—Summer delights—Fair complexions of the people—Approach of the autumnal season—Luxuriant orchards.
Driving through Ontario in June, the eye continually dwells upon a sea of green, with scarcely any interlude of rock, swamp or broken land. It is simply a succession of well-cultivated farms, mostly trim and nicely kept and well fenced. In many respects our province resembles old England, for, with all our vandalism, we have left a few groves of native forest trees, which here and there dot the landscape, and present to the view a beautiful, impenetrable, clearly-defined wall of green, raised, of course, above the level green of the crops below at the surface and extending up to their very bases. Our fences have, indeed, presented a decided improvement during the past few years. Very many of the boundary fences beside the highways are straight board fences, or straight rail and post fences. Hedges, of course, we cannot boast of. But our fences up to date present a clearly defined boundary of farms, and form a bounded highway straight and clear, sixty-six feet wide.
In many of our still timbered portions of the province the old zig-zag rail fence is in use. But we have now in most places in the province passed by that day, and can no longer build such fences, for it is too great a waste of timber, though in some respects it’s the best and strongest fence we can possibly build, and will last the longest. But its days are numbered, and the fences of the future will be wire fences, which are now legal in our province. They have their advantages, principally in allowing the winds of winter to pass freely through and preventing drifts on the roads. By an Act of our Ontario Legislature, township councils can by law allow owners who will build wire fences before their farms to enclose six feet of the road allowance. Many persons are already taking advantage of that Act, but at all events the roads must be left fifty-four feet wide, taking off six feet from each side.
Road-work is in June quite general all over the province, and when driving along the highways one has to pass now and again over a few rods of awfully rough, unfinished patches of road. Sometimes the turnpiking is only half completed, or again the gravel has been left in great heaps, which give to your carriage the motion of a vessel at sea as it passes over the lumps. A few days, however, will remedy all that, as the road-work gets completed. Brawny, sunburnt farmers, wearing their straw hats, and with shirt sleeves rolled up, gather in groups under a “pathmaster,” and perform the requisite number of days “working for the King,” as it is termed. No doubt our fellows are quite as honest as any one would be under like circumstances, but we have yet to learn that any one has ever injured himself by road-work while so “working for the King” on the roads.
Crops cover the ground completely, and thoroughly hide the soil beneath. Many of them are, indeed, so high that they wave with the breezes. The fields present one unbroken sea of level, green verdure, generally free from all obstructions. Here and there, indeed, may be seen a nicely formed pile of stone boulders, gradually picked up from the fields as the plough exposes them to the surface, and yearly growing a little larger by being added thereto by subsequent ploughings. The farmer can’t afford obstructions these days in his fields, for in a few weeks reapers will quickly cut these crops, or, in many instances, binders will both cut and bind them at one process, and the farmer wants nothing in the way to hinder these great labor-savers. In June haying has already commenced, more especially clover crops. Where a crop of clover seed is sought as a second crop in this season, the clover hay of the first crop has been cut and garnered for some days. Alsike clover is in full bloom, and I defy any reader to say that he ever passed any field, grove, or flowers, in any part of the globe, which sends out a more pleasing fragrance than this alsike clover does. To pass a field of alsike clover when it’s in full blow is beautiful to the eye while resting on the pinkish-white blows, and grateful to the sense of smell for its delicate and pungent perfume. Ordinary sentences are tame, indeed, in trying to describe the beauties of the alsike clover field in full bloom in Ontario. It must be seen and smelled to be appreciated. Now, speaking of all this alsike clover, and red clover as well, naturally leads one to think, what can all this clover seed be used for? It is an accepted fact, now, that Ontario can compete with the world in the growing of clover seed. Germany has been our great competitor, but it is now conceded that we can beat Germany. Driving along through the province in June one passes in almost endless succession field after field of both red clover and alsike, and the question naturally comes up, What is to be done with all this seed? It would appear that Ontario can produce enough clover seed to sow all those parts of our planet adapted to the growing of clover. Recollect, all parts cannot grow clover. If you go west and pass central Iowa, you leave the clover belt entirely; and if you go south and cross the Ohio River, you will not find much more clover. It is true that in Kentucky they boast of blue grass, which is only our June grass allowed to grow up strong and vigorous. But our Ontario is a natural clover country. If we leave a field uncultivated, it somehow, naturally of itself, gets back in clover, no matter if none were sown on the field.
Ontario is a natural grazing country; it must be, when the clover is so indigenous to the soil. It is just as well for our farmers to thoroughly grasp this fact, for with our innumerable springs and rills and abounding clover, we have one of the best cattle and horse-raising countries in the world. If the West, which cannot grow clover and such light-colored barley as the Americans want, is content to grow wheat, we had better by far let the West do it and confine ourselves to the specialties in which they cannot compete with us.