AN OPTIMISTIC NOTE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIX, Issue 21165, 23 April 1932, Page 1 (Supplement)

AN OPTIMISTIC NOTE.

THE USES OF ADVERSITY.

BY 11.H.8

I met. the other day a man of a type I had thought no longer existed —a farmer who radiated optimism; who believes that his real function in life is the fanning of his land, and, because of this, eschews tho attractions and temptations of the city; who sees a blessing, rather than a curse, in such visitations as droughts and floods; who regards the banks as tho friend and not the enemy of the producer; and who is convinced that many of this world's troubles would be avoided if only men would stick to their own jobs and carry their own burdens, interfering less with others and ceasing to expect someone, or some organisation, to solve their problems for them.

Although well on in the sixties, and grey-haired, lie was erect and active, possessing tho vigour of youth; his eyes sparkled with good humour, and he had a depp-lhroated, spontaneous, happy laugh that betokened a veritable joy at being alive. As an orthodox prelude to conversation with him I commented that farmers generally were having a somewhat difficult time, but he was not true to typo, for he was not seeking commiseration. "What's wrong with the times?" he asked.

When it came to a matter of detail I was at a loss for an answer, so I contented myself with remarking that all tlio prominent farmers, and all the producers' organisations, seemed agreed that the recognised backbone of the country was badly bent, if not completely broken. He laughed at me. Attending to the Job.

" Listen! I'll tell you something," he said. " Prominent farmers are never good farmers. The good farmer is so busy attending to his job that he has 110 time to get in the limelight. The man who makes the most noise—whether lie's a farmer or anything else—is the one who does the least work. If he has time to waste about town, wailing about his misfortunes and discussing his troubles so much that they are magnified beyond all reason, how can he expect to make a success of his business ? The real farmer sticks to his plough; he doesn't go running about in a motor-car agitating for the Government to do this and that for him. No. sir! The real farmer farms his property and doesn't spend his time trying to farm the Government."

This appeared to he rank treason to his class, but when I ventured to interrupt he silenced me with a gesture. " I know what I'm talking about," he said. " I've tried it both ways. For a time I thought I was a squatter. I joined the club and used to come to town regularly, drinkincr bad whisky and losing good money: going home early in the morning and waking up late in the day with a sore head and no inclination to work. Now I stop at home and make my own recreation —a bit of shooting, a little music, and a lot of reading—and both I and my farm are the better for it.

" A farm, of all businesses, cannot be neglected. You must be on the job all the time, taking advantage of the weather and other conditions, maintaining a carc fu 1 oversight.- eontinu.ally acquiring that knowledge that only comes from experience and observation. A man's never finished learning in this world. I've been studying my work for fifty years, but there are a great many things I don't know yet." He paused, laughing again merrily. A Ha'porth of Experience.

" There's one thing I have learnt though," he went on, " and I'm only in town to show some of these wiseacres that a ha'porth of experience is worth a whole library of theory. You heard about the flood we had recently? Of course you did, because our ' prominent farmers' held meetings, told one another how they were ruined, and decided to sit back and wait for the Government to come to the rescue. Well, I went to one of their meetings, listened to their talk, and then advised them to ' can the cackle' and get on with the job; but I wasn't popular, so I didn't go again. " Now that flood made a mess all right. It left as much as two feet of silt on some of my land, and others got it even worse. But, good Lord, man, we've had floods before, and we'll have them again. They're just ono of Nature's little compensations. This life's full of compensations, you know. I'll tell you what I did! While the others were protesting about what the Almighty had done, and what the Government hadn't done, and while the experts and theorists were advising them to bide their time and wait for the silt, to harden bofore they worked it, I went out in a pair of gum-boots and sowed seed by hand—seventy acres of it—practically following up the wator as it receded. " They came and laughed at me. Now I'm laughing at them! On top of that silt I've got a beautiful crop of grass, and in a week or two it will be carrying three sheep to the acre. The others have still got their bare silt, some of it stirred into porridge by attempts to work it. They've lost <i season now, while I've got better pasture than I've had for years." His mirth was infectious, and I laughed with him, realising the while that here was a ninn who knew his business, and was not merely talking for the sake of hearing his own voice God Bless the Banks I " My friend," he went on, " with all our knowledge, Nature often knows how to handle things better than we do. Wo complain about a drought, hut a drought gives the pastures a much-needed rest and allows the ground to store up heat. After the drought comes rain—and, don't forget, it always comes sooner or later—and the grass, stimulated by the warm ground and the conserved energy of the soil, comes away, not only with a new lease of life, hut with new life altogether. Nature's a better cultivator than mere man. If we're lucky, as we were thi3 year, we get an old-man flood, and Nature gives us a top-dressing of silt; not put on haphazardly, either, but allowed to settle like a bowl of milk, so that all the cream comes to the surface. That silt is Nature's fertiliser, and even if it does kill the old, worn-out grass it gives us the foundation of something better than we had before.

" Of course, it costs the price of new seed, and money is not too easy to getnowadays. Still, there's the banks — God bless them. Some people don't liko the banks, I know, but where would tho farmer bo without them ? They've always treated me well, and I've never known a man turned down if he had a sound proposition and was not afraid of hard work. After all, it's work that counts in (his world, you know; hard work and taking advantage of the goodness of Nature.

" Well, I must get along." he wound up with another laugh. N " I don't often come to town, and I'm never anxious to stay when Ido get here. Good-bye." He bustled off down the street with a jaunty stride, but lie left behind a lasting impression of his cheery, refreshing psychology, and for some reason there came back to my mind the words: " God's in His Heaven—all's right with tho world!"