Letters from Britain from a Canadian Farmer

I arrived safely in Liverpool. We came through a good deal of fog, and saw a number of icebergs, but our captain was a very cautious man, and we were in no danger. There is so much competition in the Atlantic carrying trade that the steamship companies are vying with each other as to which shall give their passengers the greatest amount of comfort and luxury. The fare in the second cabin is better than that given in the best country hotels in Ontario, and as there were practically no waves on our trip, we had a very pleasant voyage, with very agreeable companions. On board were sixteen horses belonging to Hon. Clifford Sifton. They were sent over to exhibit their jumping powers at several places in England and at one or two places on the Continent of Europe. One of them had a record of 7 feet 7 inches, and another one of them was twenty-three years of age, and the attendant told me that she would take the hurdles just as keenly as any of them, but she could not jump so high as some. Each horse had a comfortable box stall, and they were all in splendid form and well taken care of. The manager and rider did not do any work.

The lorry and cart and cab horses in Liverpool and Birkenhead were all fine animals, and well cared for, but it does seem to a Canadian a very silly notion to hitch one horse in a lorry, and then to put one, two and sometimes even three ahead. To us it would seem much more sensible to hitch up two horses abreast; they would naturally do better work. The fields in England are generally of a very irregular form and shape, and there are many hedges (generally of thorn) and many stone dykes. Where I travelled, the cattle all looked well, and were mostly pure-bred Shorthorns, or at least very good grades. There were also quite a number of sheep here and there. Farmers raise quite a lot of turnips, and many fields were thinned out before the middle of June, and were looking well. In the neighborhood of Liverpool and Chester I saw whole fields of strawberries-fine, healthy plants, and pretty free of weeds. The fruit was of a fine quality--large, luscious berries. I saw quite a number of idle men, and was told that they had been picking strawberries in the early part of the day.

To our Canadian eyes, the country roads appear very stranger. They are very narrow; so much so that, in many places, two loads of hay could not meet and pass. They are very tortuous, and wind out and in through the hollows in all sorts of shapes. The road-bed, however is invariably good--equal to our best county roads in Ontario. The scenery is very pretty and pleasing to the eye, and the houses, many of them of brick and built in the quaint old English style, look very restful like.

When I got out of England into Scotland, the fields seemed to be of a much more regular form and larger, and the fences generally running parallel or at right-angles, whereas in England they run in all sorts of angles and curves. But, of course, it often happens here, as in Ontario, that the railway does not run in the best agricultural districts of the country. In the mountainous districts of Scotland there are, of course, many sheep, mostly black-faced, horned sheep, and I was astonished to find that in the end of June many were still unshorn. These hills look very bleak and bare to a Canadian. I am told, “Look at the beautiful scenery.” That is all right, but then--you can’t make a living from beautiful scenery, unless in places where they have a great influx of wealthy tourists to spend the summer months; and that is the great source of income in many of the Highlands of Scotland. I took a sail up to the top of Loch Lomond, and although the scenery was no doubt really grand, yet I would not give my 100 acres in Ontario for 5,000 acres of those bleak hills, many of them hundreds of feet high, so steep and rocky that little or no vegetation grows on them; and even if it were there, goats could scarcely climb up to it. On the beautiful little steamer on Loch Lomond I met tourists from Canada and from nearly all parts of the word. It is really a beautiful place to visit. I noticed, in Scotland, as well as in England, that there is quite a lot of ox-eye daisies in places. Many people were silly enough to cultivate it in gardens for flowers, and I saw bouquets of this miserable pest left in cemeteries on graves. When, in a few years, it gets possession of the ground, the farmers will find out that they have a big job on their hands to get it eradicated. I also saw a little of a yellow flower that looked suspiciously like our Russian sow thistle.

In the beginning of July the weather in Scotland was very showery, and farmers were busy thinning out their turnips, and, owing to the rain, the turnips and the weeds were getting the advantage. I saw some fields that had been thinned out, where the turnips and weeds that had been pushed out were growing well between the drills. The potatoes looked very well, some of them very far advanced, and the Scotch farmers have one great advantage over the Ontario farmer--there are no bugs on the potatoes.

I have seen different agricultural papers here, but none as good and serviceable as our own “Farmers Advocate”; that is, according to my best judgment. The hay here is generally of Italian rye-grass, and is far behind our clover and timothy; but, where I have been, the farmers do not seem to raise very much hay.

D.L.