THE FARMER'S HIRED MAN.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 3216, 20 October 1881, Page 4

THE FARMER'S HIRED MAN.

'I'm kinder lookin' around the market for a hired man,' he exclaimed, as he stopped at one of the stands and nibbled at an onion. ' I kinder need one, but yet I kiner hope I shan't be able to find him.' ' How's that ?' ' Well, there ain't no profit in a hired man no more. No, sir, he's no good any longer.' ' What's the reason ?' 1 Ob, a dozen reasons. First and foremost, times have changed, and the hired man has changed with 'em. Ah! sir, it makes me carl when I think of the hired men we had before tho war—great big fellers with the strength of an ox and the vim of a locomotive. I didn't have to holler my lungs out to get one of 'em out of bed at three o'clock in the morning, and it was all I could do to coax 'em to go to bed at ten o'clock at night. T'm afraid that we shan't never see no more hire men wuth keepin' around for their board.' 'That's sad.' ' It's sad, and more, too. Now, as I said, I want a hired man. I'm willing to pay $11 or $12 a month for a smart one. Some farmers want a man to work all day and all niidit, but that ain't me. I have never asked one to git out of bed before 3 o'clock —never. I alius give ray man three-quarters of an hour at noon, unless the hogs git out or cattle break in or a shower is coming up. After a man has worked right along for nine hours, his system wants at least half an hour to broce up in. They don't quit work on some farms till 8 o'clock, but I'm no such slave-driver. At half-past 7 I tell my man to knock off. All he has to do after that is to feed the stock, out a little wood, mow some grass for the horses, miJk four cows, fill up the water-trough, start a smudge in the smoke-house, and pull a few weeds in the garden. I never had a hired man who didn't grow fat on my work, and they alius left me feeling that they hadn't half earned their wages.' He stopped long enough to wipe a tear from his eye, and then went on, ' And now look at the hired man of today! He wears white shirts and collars. He won't eat with a knife. He wants napkins when he eats, and if we don't hang up a clean towel once a week he wipes on his handkerchief. Call him at 3 and he gits up at 6. He wants a whole hour at noon, and after supper he trots off to a singing-school or sits down to a newspaper. Fifteen years ago, if my hired man was sick for half a day I could dock him. If he died I could take out a month's wages for the trouble. He was glad to git store orders for his pay, and he would wash in the rain-barrel and wipe on the r;lothes-line. There's bin a change, sir, an awful change ; and if a reaction don't set in pretty soon, you will witness the downfall of agriculture in this country.' ' Then you won't hire another ?' ' Wall, I can't just say. Work is powerfully pressing, but I'm going slow. Before I hire him I want to know whether he's a man who'll pass his plate for more meat and taters, and whether we've got to use starch in doing up his shirts. The last man I had took me to task for not holding prayers twice a day, and after I had done so for three months I found it was only a game of his to beat me out of half an hour a day. He thought he had a pretty soft thing, and ho looked mighty lonesome when I cut Old Hundred down to two lines and got through with the Lord's Prayer in 40 seconds. ■—Detroit Free Press.