Hodge and His Masters | Page 6

ignorant jackass of a farmer.
Some few years ago he went into a draper's shop to bring home a parcel
for his wife, and happened to enter into conversation with the draper
himself. The draper said he was just going to sell off the business and
go into dairy farming, which was the most paying thing out. That was
just when there came over from America a patent machine for milking
cows. The draper's idea was to milk all his cows by one of these articles,
and so dispense with labour. He saw no more of him for a long time,
but had heard that morning that he went into a dairy farm, got rid of all
his money, and was now tramping the country as a pedlar with a pack
at his back. Everybody thought he could teach the farmer till he tried
farming himself, and then he found his mistake.
One remark of the lecturer, if he might venture to say so, seemed to
him, a poor ignorant farmer of sixty years' standing, not only
uncalled-for and priggish, but downright brutal. It was that the man
with little capital ought to be driven out of farming, and the sooner he
went to the wall the better. Now, how would all the grocers and other
tradesmen whom he had just enumerated like to be told that if they had
not got 10,000l. each they ought to go at once to the workhouse! That
would be a fine remedy for the depression of trade.
He always thought it was considered rather meritorious if a man with
small capital, by hard work, honest dealing, and self-denial, managed to
raise himself and get up in the world. But, oh no; nothing of the kind;
the small man was the greatest sinner, and must be eradicated. Well, he
did not hesitate to say that he had been a small man himself, and began
in a very small way. Perhaps the lecturer would think him a small man
still, as he was not a millionaire; but he could pay his way, which went
for something in the eyes of old-fashioned people, and perhaps he had a
pound or two over. He should say but one word more, for he was aware

that there was a thunderstorm rapidly coming up, and he supposed
science would not prevent him from getting a wet jacket. He should
like to ask the lecturer if he could give the name of one single scientific
farmer who had prospered?
Having said this much, the old gentleman put on his overcoat and
busted out of the room, and several others followed him, for the rain
was already splashing against the window-panes. Others looked at their
watches, and, seeing it was late, rose one by one and slipped off. The
president asked if any one would continue the discussion, and, as no
one rose, invited the professor to reply.
The professor gathered his papers and stood up. Then there came a
heavy rolling sound--the unmistakable boom of distant thunder. He said
that the gentleman who had left so abruptly had quite misconstrued the
tenour of his paper. So far from intending to describe farmers as
lacking in intelligence, all he wished to show was that they did not use
their natural abilities, from a certain traditionary bowing to custom.
They did not like their neighbours to think that they were doing
anything novel. No one respected the feelings that had grown up and
strengthened from childhood, no one respected the habits of our
ancestors, more than he did; no one knew better the solid virtues that
adorned the homes of agriculturists. Far, indeed, be it from him to say
aught--[Boom! and the rattling of rain against the window]--aught that
could--but he saw that gentlemen were anxious to get home, and would
conclude.
A vote of thanks was hurriedly got over, and the assembly broke up and
hastened down the staircase. They found the passage below so blocked
with farmers who had crowded in out of the storm that movement was
impossible. The place was darkened by the overhanging clouds, the
atmosphere thick and close with the smoke and the crush. Flashes of
brilliant lightning seemed to sweep down the narrow street, which ran
like a brook with the storm-water; the thunder seemed to descend and
shake the solid walls. 'It's rather hard on the professor,' said one farmer
to another. 'What would science do in a thunderstorm?' He had hardly
spoken when the hail suddenly came down, and the round white

globules, rebounding from the pavement, rolled in at the open door.
Each paused as he lifted his glass and thought of the harvest. As for
Hodge, who was reaping, he had to take shelter how he might in the
open fields. Boom! flash!