THE WOMAN ON THE LAND.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXIV, Issue 145082, 6 September 1916, Page 7

THE WOMAN ON THE LAND.

(By S. L. Bens us an in tho Express.) “Man. an’ boy I*vo tended th 7 land fifty year an 1 more,’ 7 declared Mr. Dynes, the looker, with emphasis, to his friends and colleagues of tho tap* room, ‘‘an 7 I never did hear tell o’ sech things till las’ summer.” “If so bo Govinmcnt bin an 7 sent away most all th 7 men, 77 explained Mr. Gage, the tailor, ‘..‘somebody gottcr do th 7 work. An 7 a woman’s bettor than nothin'.” “1 doubt she ain’t, 77 objected Mr. Trout, tho thatoher. “I don 7 t say nothin’ agin a woman long as sho 7 s in th 7 house. She can muddle about an* clean an 7 cook an 7 mend an 7 look arfcer th 7 childcr, an 7 nobody 7 on’t say a word agin her f’r doin’ it. But soon as over a woman go setfcin 7 herself up liko she was a man, that’s'a very different .kettle o 7 fish to my thinkin’. 77

“Thcy’ro all lookin’ out f’r ’em.” said the road mender, “Can’t help their selves, 1. doubt. There’s High Barns took two. an’ Peacock got one an 7 another cumin 7 , an’ Small Gains got three, milkin’ an’ butter makin 7 liko. They do say a man can’t work alongside of ’em m th’ cow ’us, they’re that pcrciklar. If a thing ain’t jest so, they 7 on 7 t use it. An 7 that’s water they waste! If we’d fared to get a dry summer steddy a wet.one, that’d ha* cost more money cartin’ water f’r them wimmen to waste than they’d ha* got from rnilk an 7 butter together. I see old Bill Nix what went back nruw harvest. He towd me all about it. Ho were proper vexed wore Bill. 71

TOO PARTICULAR. “Don't ho milk there no longer?” asked tho thatoher. “That used to be his job at Small Gains time I were a lad. A sound workman, too, but ’baps he's too old.” “It ain’t that,” explained the road monder. “He wont, back to milk, but they got two wimme-n there already, an’ th’ wory fust mornin’ he went in an’ sot down, one on ’em up an' ast him if he dedn’t wash his hands afore he started milkin’.” “Thai’s a imperent bit o’ wimmon kind to ast sorb a thing ns that,” growled tile thatoher. “But there, they seem to ha’ been doin’ that all over th’ place. Wimmen don’t rightly understand how to milk.” “Pore Bill dodn’t- answer her back, bein’ civil,” continued the road mender, “but ho sez every time he dipped his hands in th’ pail ho see one o’ them wimmon lookin’ at him rcg’lar old-fashioned, an’ artor breakfast Mauler Guiver come lip an’ sez he’d find him another job, bein’ as th’ wimmen dedu’t seem to understand bis ways like. Bill, mind ye, what milked afore any o’ them hussies was born. He sez them wimmen will ha’ scrubbed th’ bricks outer lb’ ground before they’ve bin muddlin’ round there much longer, an’ they bin an’ got ovtw Master; Quiver to buv ’em a thing called a separator, an’ Bill sez he never sec anythin’ like it in all bis born days. lie sez that’ll spilo th’ cream, he’s sure on’t. Ho don’t bond wi’ those now funded ways, don’t Bill, an’ wery rightly.’

IDLE HUSSIES. “Them wimmen ’on't slop,” said the looker confidently. “Mark my words, th’oy'll git tired on’t. Me brother what works at Maylands towd me squire’s daughter brought down a reg’lar parcel o’ young wimmen last summer, time tho com wanted booin’. He gottor show ’em all how to do th’ work. Started ’em all in a lino, five on ’em, an’ ho sez he reckoned they rested arter every etch weed. Come dinner time they was that tired they com o'-out, no more til! next day. Then they didn’t start till nine o’clock, th’ hussies. When it come time f’r ’lcvens. the brother ast ’em if ho should go fetch ’em any beer, an’ be sez they just laughed an’ sez they didn’t drink beer.” “That’s a dirty bit o’ them,” com-, mooted tbo thatoher, “but there, they don’t know no better.” “That were a seven-acre field o’ barley they was cn,” continued Mr. Dynes solemnly, “ah’ them wimmen started on a Monday an’ they hadn’t finished on th 1 Saturday night. Every time that rinod they wont an’ sot up agin a. hedge an’ put on waterproofs. Waterproofs, mark ye, an’ time a grot 010 rat run outer hedge by where two on ’em was siltin’ they sbrikked wuunerful. Yon’d ha’ thought that ’d ha’ bin a bull at th’ wery least, I dunno what th’ old squire pido ’em, but ho knp’ ’em all up at tl>’ Mall, an’ 1 lay they didn’t earn their keep.” “Did they stop, Master Dynes?” inquired tho thateber.

PECK OF TROUBLE. “That come on reg’lar'wot th’ next week,” explained tho looker, “so t Su-y thought they’d larn milkin’ too. Joe Rolf was milkin’ f’r th’ squire then. He’s a nicely lookin’ lad what was walkin’ out with me brother’s gel, Martha. They look wnnnerful kindly to him, th’ young hussies. Me brother was muckin’ out th’ lien ’ua agin th’ cow ’us early one mornin’, an’ lie hoerd ’em. It was ‘Joe, come hero,’ and ‘Joe, come an’ show mo how to lini&li off this un’,’ and ‘Joe, take howd o’ this cow’s tile; she keeps all on a-swishiii’ of it. Como quick, ther’s a good boy.’ Everlastin’ o’ Joe. So he went an’ towd his Martha. An’ Martha up an’ sez that if Joe was goin’ to work in th’ cow ’us alone along o’ all thorn huggages he shouldn’t walk out along o’ sho no more.”

“That’s a sensible girl,” interposed the thatchcr. ‘ There were a peck o’ trouble about it,” continued the looker, “an’ Joe dinin't know what ho hotter do. So ho wont off an’ ’listed, an’ bo sez ho’s some glad ho did. He's gone out furrin to down them Germans, an’ I do hear ho should write home an’ say ho lias a fine timo._ Never had so much meat in all his life. He sez time you’re a sojer, it's a Sunday dinner every day o’ th’ week. An’ me brother sez if they bring them gels back thik summer he’ll ast f'r a rise, sure as harvest,”

“That’s th’ only thing a man gottor do,” said tho tbatcher decisively. “If a man gottor work along of a parcel o’ wimmen he gottor be pido well f’r it, f’r that ain’t natural. A man gotten put up with wimmen when ho go home. When he got his work to do, he look to do it in peace." “That’s a truo word,” declared Mr. Dynes, tho looker.