Mr. Punch's Country Life Part 10

THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS.--When the roses sweetly breathe a dew.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FORBEARANCE.--_Young Lady._ "John, how long shall you be, as I want to practise?"

_Gallant Young Gardener._ "Oh, goo yeouw on, Miss Amy--goo yeouw on! I sha'n't mind yar noise!"]

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 advertis.e.m.e.nts. 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. Government 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 j.a.pan, 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 tom-fool 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 of 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 Fretwail and Lackaday._ Rightly spoke, neighbour Ryemouth, 'twas a true word! But theer'll be a jegement 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._

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _The New Curate._ "Superb day, isn't it?" _Giles._ "Ay?"

_Curate._ "Superb day." _Giles._ "Ay?" _Curate._ "Er--a--_superb--day!_"

_Giles._ "Whoa, Dobbin!" (_Pulls up_). "Ay?" _Curate._ "I only remarked--er--it was a _superb day_." _Giles._ "D----! Gw'on, Dobbin!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration:

_Serious Old Party._ "Eh, but this is a wicked world!"

_Flippant Individual._ "You are right, Mrs. Mumble. For my part, I shall be quite satisfied if I get out of it alive!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: OBLIGING.--_Lady_ (_to village jobber, who for days has been "working" in the house_). "Can you tell me when you are likely to have _finished_ this job?" _Village Jobber._ "If _you_ can tell me, mum, wheer I'm likely to get another."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: USEFUL INFORMATION.--_Jones_ (_who has forsworn town life for a more healthful existence, to hired compendium of agricultural knowledge at 14s. 6d. a week, with cottage and 'tater patch_). "Do you know anything about bees, Isaac?" _Isaac._ "Yes, they stings!"]