WHERE FARMERS BREATHE CONTENT.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 19198, 14 June 1924, Page 11

WHERE FARMERS BREATHE CONTENT.

“The truth is," said the friend with whom I had been discussing the agricultural situation (writes “One of Them” in a London paper), “the moment you meet a farmer he starts grumbling, as though he had a monopoly of all the trouble# that beset mankind.”

“I could take you,” I told him, “to a place that exists for farmers, where you meet none save farmers, where they all look happy and contented, where they laugh and joke even at their own troubles. ” “And then. I suppose one wakes up,” he sneered, “for of course you mean dream land.” I didn’t take him to dreamland —I don’t know my way there, —but I took him to a comfortable flat on the second floor of Whitehall Court, and into a large and well-lighted room with a big fire, some armchairs made for gentlenfen with an outsize in waistcoats, and a plentiful supply of pajxers and periodicals. There were only half a dozen people there, but they sounded very friendly, cheerful, and not too much depressed. Then I took him to a neighbouring room, with well-filled book-shelves and a couple of writing tables. We had some light refreshment, sandwiches and coffee, and examined a collection of books devoted to the practice of farming. “If you -want a square meal?” he queried critically, and when I told him that members of the club have the freedom of the big restaurant on the ground floor, he seemed surprised. I showed him the reports of monthly winter meetings, issued free to members, whether they attend or remain away. ,1 told him that the drawing rooms on the ground floor axe free to the wives and daughters cf members, that bedrooms may be hired in the building, and that, when, the Koyal Agricultural Society has shows, the club rooms run a pavilion for the use of its members. “Well,” he said, “I suppose you have to pay a big price for what you get” “As a member o! some years’ standing,** I told him, ‘T pay one guinea a year.” “Why,” he protested, “many of the clubs in Pall! Mall and St. James’s axe gasping for breath, and you mean to say that you farmers ... No wonder you don’t grumble inside here.” My friend paused awhile and went over the premises again, tried the armchairs, and sat down in one of the largest, being built that way. “I’ve quite a considerable pen of poultry at my country house,” he said, “and I’m thinking seriously of buying a pig. Do you think that in those circumstances I am eligible for membership. I told him that if h© bought a cow too I would inquire on his behalf. He i* going to consult his wife about it.