MOUNTAIN AGRICULTURAL SHOWS.

WHEN the "May Meetings" are over and Exeter Hall silent, the "Auxiliaries" become voiceful all through the king- -clom, upholding the honour and usefulness of many societies ; and in dike manner, when the Royal Agricultural Society has done its duty in the matter of Shows, the" Local and District" Societies begin to ‘do theirs. The harvest by that time is "in," and the farmer knows how he "stands" for the year. He can then think about enjoying himself, and of picking up new ideas for the year, or years, to come. The Agricultural Show, "Royal" or "District," is the farmer's grand gala, when he spreads out his best before his friends. It has, as far as he and his festivity are concerned, taken the place -of the old fair, which in times gone by he shared with his ploughboy and milkmaid, entering into all the fun of the jig and reel among the lightest heels of the country side. His place at the fair cannot now be found. The British farmer is -a changed man ; his old habits are in a great measure gone ; his cus- toms and even tastes have become at least modified since the time when Christopher North "made one" in the country wrestling (ring, and drank his toddy at the country fair. Not that the farmer has grown more puny, or shown a tendency to becoming a milksop. Not he. He is as stout of heart and limb as ever; but he has learned to think and talk of subjects that the farmer of half a century ago would have laughed to scorn. The farmer of to-day is to some extent a chemist, acquainted with the properties of soil and manure, able to tell you bow much lime there is in bones, and what chemical elements are needed for producing a good crop of clover, or wheat, or rye. He has reduced the "rotation of crops" not merely to a system (which is the clumsy idea), but to a philosophical study, with applications, by the individual man, to his own farm. Nothing is commoner now than to hear a gruff old farmer my, after a lecture on agricultural chemistry—" Ay, ay, its all true in the abstract, but it would not do for my land, nor for yours, I fancy ; eh, neighbour Jones ?" The same expression might have been used a quarter of a century ago, but then it would probably have arisen from ignorance and stupidity. Now, the chances are that it is the offspring of thought and fair inquiry. The farmer, if a good farmer, knows his land, and what he must do for it, if he would have it to do what, with fair treatment, it is able to do for him. He believes in hard work as much as ever he did, but lie knows how to make that work go farther and bring more sub- stantial results than it did in bygone times. When this stage of progress had been reached, the jigs and reels at the country fair went out of farmer-fashion, were left to the "lads and lasses ;" and as this fashion went out, agricultural societies and farmers' clubs catne in, with a great gain to the farmer, and no loss to any one, even in enjoyment, for it would be difficult to find any- where more of real enjoyment than may be found at a District Agricultural Show.

If the reader doubts this, let him try one—the time is at hand —in some mountain district. We say "mountain district," for there alone, we hold, can you see an Agricultural Show in all its glory. To see it rightly, you should be there at nine o'clock in the morning. Later would scarcely do, but that is early enough, for many of the exhibitors have long distances to travel, up hill and down, before they can be with you at the show field. You will find yourself in front of a country inn, with a flag hoisted at the "rigging [ridge] tree," and as much activity within as if the Lord Mayor of London and all the Common Councilmen, or, better still, the Archbishop of Canterbury and all his brethren of the Episcopal Bench, were to dine there that day. Rosy, laughing girls and stalwart young men will be "helping" in the kitchen, to prepare for the one greatest day of the year ; the day before the glories of which whitebait dinners, and official receptions, and even royal levees, dwindle into insigni- ficance in the mind and heart of that country district.

Near to the inn you will see the field, perhaps with one tent in it, perhaps not ; and a few agricultural implements, strewn about in glorious disorder, are the firstfruits of the show. In the distance you will see, if you look closely, a few moving black specks, here and there, look on what side you may, on the peaceful mountain roads. Now and then you will lose sight of this group or that ; then you will catch a glimpse of it again, on the rising ground, or at a turn of the incomprehensible road, winding into as queer a jumble as brain of man could conceive. Then you will see the groups "dropping down," one by one—horses, cows, pigs, and sheep —to witness, if not speak, for the breeding and feeding ability of their owners. And the greetings—the hand-shakings- the" Well, Jhwou 1"—" Well, Davie !"—the "Peggy, owd woman, hoo er ye ?"—ought to make a cynic feel a bit of sympathy for human kind.

While you are watching the distant groups you will find that the field has been losing its deserted appearance. From highways and byways, from distant farms, or from neighbouring fields (which the more cautious exhibitors would manage to secure possession of on the previous day for their animals) there is a steady set in towards where the work of the day is to be done; and soon the show field is alive.

There you will see Farmer Martin's short-horned heifer that won the prize at Pentdragon ; and there Squire Bauldrig's fine bay mare that is to leap the hurdles so triumphantly ; and there Dick Potter, the labourer's son, who is to ride the bay mare ; and there Mrs. Brown with her butter and cheese, the former on spot- less white cloths ; and there Peter Brown with his big turnips and mangolds; and there Davie Johnstone with his fine pigs, some of which can neither walk nor see, so gloriously fat and dignified are they.

The field by this time is bright with gay ribbons, and rosy cheeks, and laughing eyes. The stock judges are hard at work with their "arduous and responsible duties "—that is the proper and orthodox phrase ; the crop judges (whose work had, of course, to be done beforehand) are weighing over the words of their report, which will be read, after dinner, before one lord and ever so many squires. You will observe Squire Brisbeck, of Brisbeck Hall, saying a few pleasant words to Sally Jones, and how her

pretty cheek has become scarlet, though her eye and lip have lost none of their sauciness ; and you will observe, too, that Bob Martin, who won the last ploughing match at Pentdragon, is watching Sally and the Squire far more narrowly than you could watch them, look as intently as you might. Don't look any more at Bob, after that, till dinner time, when the chances are that his brow will be as unruffled as it was when Sally Jones first entered the field, and before Squire Brisbeck had troubled himself to compliment her, and "put silliness into her head," as Bob Martin (though he did not hear the words) knows right well he must have been doing when she "reddened "so. In the field you will find that all now is life and interest, contrasting curiously with the peace and stillness of the old grey mountains around.

In due time the prizes are all awarded ; the butter has been tasted and praised, and Mrs. Brown is radiant ; the heifers and sheep have been examined "point bypoint,"—the fore end, the hind end, every- thing. Then there is a set in to the "Plough," with its noble farmer-motto over the door :— "He that by the plough would thrive Himself must either hold or drive."

And now you will see what all the kitchen activity was for. You will see—say, three long tables, covered from end to end. You will find thereon beef roasted and boiled, the latter well supported with carrots and turnips ; mutton, and ham, and bacon, and " greens " of all kinds proper for eating, as around the room there will be greens of all kinds proper for decoration. And then there will be pease-pudding, which no wise visitor will miss, even if he have to watch and wait for it, as he probably will. If the reader is that visitor, from, say, London, he must not forget himself so far as to "remember the waiter." It would be highly improper. The waiters are "neighbour lads," not of the class of people to be remembered in the way the reader knows of.

At the head of the table you will find Lord Pentdragon, at the foot of it Squire Brisbeck. His lordship and his worship (for Squire Brisbeck is J.P., and must not be taken liberties with), are each supported by an "array" of distinguished gentlemen whose names you will find afterwards in the newspapers. The Rev. Henry Portly will say grace, without losing any time with the punc- tuation of it ; and then you should notice and hearken to the knives and forks, and look at the jolly faces, and take note of the laughter that rings again, as Lord Pentdragon never heard it ring in Mayfair, and probably never will.

Then there are the songs. The National Anthem and " God Bless the Prince of Wales" come first, of course, and will be followed by "The Farmer's Boy," "Folly put the Kettle on," and many other classical ditties, which would delight the heart of Mr. Sims Reeves, or at least ought to do so.

Apart, too, from the enjoyment, there is great usefulness in these meetings. There are often sound and useful remarks on farming, in the least offensive of all ways,—that is, from farmers, without any adornment of eloquence, or, as a rule, any pretence to it. Men get to know what others are doing, what new thing of agri- culture is in the land, and if any one in that district has seen it. A spirit of healthy and useful rivalry is kept up. Persons of different classes are brought together in good fellowship, and can talk on wonderfully equal terms, for a farmer on an agricultural field or in an agricultural meeting is like a sailor on the deck, able to talk to any one. Better understandings spring from this intercourse ; men learn what is due the one to the other ; learn that they have something in common, valuable ideas to exchange, to give, and receive. Much of this belongs to all agricultural societies. We have merely referred in particular to the mountain shows, because in them the elements of enjoyment blend under such conditions, and stand out in such bold relief to the other incidents of the year, that what in some districts is merely an event among events, is in these the one event that relieves many months of toil.

Farmers' clubs may be said to have sprung from agricultural societies, with a kindred object. Some of the lectures delivered to these clubs by farmers are of high merit—close to the point, terse, short, and healthily devoid of "eloquence." The discussions that follow are at times useful, especially when there is a chairman who gives them the right turn and by a little tact brings out the infor- mation that, without that tact, would not be brought out at all.

There are drawbacks, however, and serious ones, to the pleasure of the scene. Lord Pentdragon never advised Farmer Jones to look to the education of his labourers or of their children—never ! Nor did Squire Brisbeck ever dream of saying any such thing to one of his farmers. In fact, Lord Pentdragon and Squire Brisbeck have an idea—which they would, if speaking apart and privately, put into almost the same words,—that a reading farm servant is of far less use to his employers than one who never reads, and seldom

thinks of anything but his work. We dare almost venture to say that, taking all the district agricultural meetings of this autumn, there will be no speech on "The best way to improve the con- dition—(personal condition, mentally, morally, and socially)—of our farm labourers," or "The best way to improve the dwellings of our labourers," or on "Our duty with respect to the young men and women who live with us under the same roof." There will be plenty of talk about which labourer ploughs the best, and which has " lived " the longest time with one employer, but not a word about those other matters that would make the men better even as labourers, and that would certainly make the labourers manlier men.

When will landlords and farmers face these serious questions in a serious way ? At present they shirk all such questions ; do, in fact, that which in the case of a steeplechase or a fox hunt they would be the first to denounce. But such questions cannot long be shirked with safety, if they can be shirked at all. It is admitted that for the farmer to hold his own he must improve with the times ; and he is doing it. He must see though, and the landlord must see, that for the farmer to continue to progress with the times the labourer must progress also ; must have fair play, and be treated as a man. When these questions are discussed at Farmers' Clubs and spoken of at agricultural meetings the British farmer will stand on a position higher and safer than any he has held up to this time. In improving the condition of his servants he will be improving that of his own family, and in thinking of the interest of his servants he will be taking the best means to secure his own.

We are not concerned to know at what time the farmer leaves the "Plough," or how he leaves it, on the night of the show. In some cases he may go soon, in others remain late ; in all cases he- pleases himself, and in no case is his course, in that particular, business of ours. The question, however, of what one man owes to another man in all conditions of life is the business of every man, and we commend to farmers these few thoughts, which, carried into some form of life at the shows of this year, and beyond them, would do something to add to the practical usefulness of Farmers' Clubs and Agricultural Meetings.