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