A PARSON ON THE LAND
By THE REV. JOHN R. H. MOORMAN
service in an equally humble capacity. This time last year I was rector of a parish in the suburbs of Manchester ; but last September I resigned my living and offered my services to a War Agricultural Committee to " go anywhere and do anything " as a farm-labourer. I was sent to a ploughing-farm in Westmorland, but after a few onths there I was moved to the West Riding of Yorkshire. I am ow living and working on a lonely moorland farm, six miles from shop, twenty miles from a railway station, and nearly a mile from y kind of road. As the land is mostly about 1,200 feet above sea- evel we have no ploughing, and live entirely by keeping stock.
I often compare my lot with what I imagine to be the lot of ose who go into the ranks in the army, navy or air-force. Obviously y path is in many ways much more smooth than theirs. For e thing, the work which I am doing, though often heavy and onotonous, is far more interesting and congenial than the science f war could ever be to me. Again, I have the great advantage of etaining my individuality, whereas the private must inevitably ecome a unit in a vast machine. Indeed, being something of a curiosity " in the district, I am inclined to be more notorious han I was at home. Again, I am still enjoying home-life—not hat of my own home, certainly, but of a typical English farm- ouse, which, though exceedingly simple, is at least " homely."
On the other hand, there are some ways in which my experience clearly more exacting than that of the recruit. The chief diffi- lty is that, whereas the recruit is expectell to know nothing and treated accordingly, the man who goes on the land is given o training but is expected to make himself useful from the very tart, or no one will hire him. Moreover, whereas the recruit is ut in the charge of men who are selected to train novices, the arm-labourer is sent to a man who may be a good teacher or ho may be quite incompetent to deal with one who is totally ninitiated. On a big ploughing-farm this is not so serious. Where large staff is employed there are always simple jobs, like leaning-up a cow-yard or sawing wood, which can be left to the trained man. But on a small stock-farm, where no other man 5 hired, and where so much of the work is highly skilled, the novice List apply himself with great diligence if he is to be worth his age. But here another difficulty arises. People sometimes say : I suppose, by now, you are getting to be a skilled man "; but I ways point out, in reply, that no one can begin to call himself died until he has been on the land for at least twelve months,
since so many jobs occur only once a year. I am now quite expert at clipping sheep, and I will challenge anyone to a competition in turnip-snagging ; but these are seasonal occupations which, by the time one has mastered them, are finished for twelve months. Thus for at least a year, apart from the routine work like milking, there is an unending succession of new jobs to learn. This is so obvious that one wonders why conscientious objectors and others are put on to land-work as if it were the most simple and elementary of all occupations.
Your employer, as I have said, may or may not be a good teacher. Men who have been engaged all their lives in agriculture undoubtedly find it hard to realise how ignorant others can be. It is not so much that they expect a newcomer to be able to do any job, but that they forget that operations which to them are second nature are, to the beginner, crafts which must be learnt. No one ever taught me how to harness a horse, or whistle a sheep- dog, or lead a horse and cart through a gateway. I was simply left to find out by trial and error. The first day that I was on the land I was given a piece of work which meant driving the tractor, but no one bothered to show me which was the clutch, and it was only after I had been using it for several days that I found out where the brake was. Again, on the first clipping-day I was handed a pair of shears and left to a kind of all-in wrestling match with a sheep, with no, idea where or how to begin. Farmers are busy men, impatient to get on with the work. They tend to forget that a few minutes in coaching a novice would save valuable time in the end.
Another great difficulty is that the orders which they give are often completely unintelligible. Luckily, I was well versed in North Country dialects when I was a child, and consequently have generally been able to make out what was said to me. But the technical words are a constant stumbling-block. Imagine, for example, being told to " fetch the mell and gavelock which are against the bosking M that second boose " or to " get a ley off the baulks and leave it on the head-rig on sled-slades." If one just stands looking blank at such commands a farmer will often merely repeat the words in a louder tone, as if it were deafness rather than ignorance which made one unable to carry out the order.
Gradually, however, one learns the language and becomes more accustomed to the work. Meanwhile there are other dangers and difficulties caused by " living-in." I felt that if I was to make a success of this experiment I must adapt myself in such a way as to fit naturally into a working-class home. Fortunately, as a parish priest, I had had a good deal of experience, but there was still much to observe and imitate. Table manners, washing arrangements, topics of conversation, the type of joke which would be understood—all these had to be considered if I was to take my place in the home without any feeling of embarrassment on either side.
It is not to be wondered at that my appearance in this unusual capacity has caused some gossip and speculation in the neighbour- hood. Some think that I have been unfrocked, others that I am recovering from a nervous breakdown, while I have even heard the rumour that I am a Mormon evangelist—an inference which clearly derives from my name. By now, however, I think my position is pretty well understood, especially as I help a good deal at the village church on Sundays. But still I know that many of the local farmers find it difficult to understand how a parson can go about in corduroys and be put on to muck-spreading.
Often I am asked by my friends whether I expect to gain much from the experience. I am quite sure that I have gained a lot just by living and working as a labourer, an experience which not every educated man can enjoy. As a parson I have also learnt much, for I now have a chance of seeing people as they are and not as they want their rector to see them. But, perhaps above all, I find great satisfaction in showing people that the clergy, although by statute exempt from military service, are quite prepared to take their coats off and to do heavy and uncongenial work in this national emergency, in order that others may have enough to eat and that eventually the tyranny which enslaves so much of the world may be broken.
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