PRAIRIE LIFE
By A. E. M. HEWLETT
THE attraction of the prairie for an Englishman has always been the open-air life of independence. After the war the odd man of culture—that unsatisfact pry word—will come here to farm. What of his family? What ar : they ready to give to life, and what do they wish to get? What to them spells fruitfulness? The prairie touchstone is not whence, but what, a man Is. Will his family be "good neighbours "? A simplicity that greets all men as brothers, expecting each to bring inherited richness of character and ability, is the western spirit, established by the pioneers, a spirit that could heal the nations.
The percentage of prairie people whose families originated in the British Isles, very high in early days, is rapidly dropping below fifty. Regional settlement of certain European races has created grave problems ; some churches tend to foster separatism, with success according to their several zeal, and in the past planned group-settling of Englishmen has been somewhat unfortunate. For instance, the Barr colonists, early in this century, would more quickly have got on their feet if scattered more widely among experienced farmers from the East, America or Europe. •
The Cannington Manor colony of the eighties petered out. A group of leisured or professional Englishmen with families invested in an attempt to combine sport, farming and the processing of farm- products on the spot, while maintaining as far as possible their accustomed social habits. Leaders who survived the first decade of the experiment moved to more congenial places, almost all the girls refused the "life of a sheepskin-clad reasant," and of the dozens of public schoolboys who tried farming only a handful remained to adopt the life, while a few turned to professions in prairie eSwns. Thus to a west quickly taking shape from the character of its pioneers was lost the greater part of the unconscious quota of this group: sportsmanship, tolerance, disinterestedness in public office, and their easy habit of leisure, with all that that implies. Those few who merged with their neighbours became, in the second genera- tion, true Canadians.
Between wars an Englishman whose life had been evenly divided between England, Saskatchewan and .British Columbia remarked that a man choosing the prairie put his children down several social grades. The ears versatility and ability of the prairie-born, proved in theatres wider than the nine provinces, refutes this amply ; but even if there is, from the English point of view, a grain of truth in it, is not the heritage more than the appraisal of it? Whatever is that essence which is England, will not the child, inheriting it be the stronger for the unsurpassed gifts of the prairie—superb health, energy and personal initiative, and for living among people who are without fear, who look not back with regret, but forward with confi- dence. Established on his own spot of earth, a man, casting all collars, digs right into farming and enjoys it. He persists in the illusion of freedom, even-though weather and price-hazards combine to prove that the farm is master of the whole family. His wife, if robust, keen on stock and growing things, and more interested in the development of her children than in personal contact with friends of like background, may also find content in farming as a way of life.
Western politics are fluid ; Manitoba has long had a Farmer government, Social Credit is in for a third term in Alberta, and Saskatchewan is the new-born guinea-pig for the C.C.F. Hard personal struggle mikes the westerner heed only the leader who has been through the same mill ; whether the English genius for statesmanship rather than politics is wanted is less certain than that it is needed, and may yet emerge from the prairie-born. Children will sing, " I am a Canadian, I am, every inch of me," in whatever province they are born, but perhaps with greater vigour in the west, where conscious effort is directed to making opportunities equal for all. Cultural societies of all kinds abound—in cities, towns, and • even in remote spots, too, given a nucleus of interest, and agri- cultural clubs for young people flourish.
That farm life is ideal for children under twelve needs no emphasis ; it provides naturally the activities that educationists strive to replace by organised games, occupational lessons and clubs. There is no artificial division of life into work, play and rest. Admittedly in busy times the children are apt to be over-tax.ed ; in some families they are exploited. But on balance the child gains. From babyhood, first as a game and then insensibly as his part in what makes existence possible to all, he helps in the varied occupa- tions that round out the seasons. Adults being so busy or distant, he tackles alone each problem as it arises, without thought of seek- ing help or giving up. School may be some miles away, but the fact that the school-tax is gladly paid by each farmer, even in hard times, makes education appear as opportunity, not as a process to be endured, and a spur is provided by the eagerness to learn and ability of children from other racial stocks.
In the teens, farm youth has up to now been handicapped com- pared with city youth, with its ready access to the tax-provided colle- giate school with its staff, equipment and sport. Boarding schools are few, and among Canadians able to afford them there is sharp division of opinion, many holding that their children should not be separated from those with whom they live and will later do business. For a man—or a girl—to work his way through the university is common, and young people will take any work that makes university life possible ; nothing that leads to that is considered menial. The opportunities that beckon are literally unlimited in variety and scope for those equipped to seize them.
Farming bears more hardly on a woman than on a man, physi- cally and mentally. Yet it is wholesome, in sunlight the year round, and warm with the friendliness of neighbours. " When I heard the dog, I was afraid it was company. But it's only you. Come right in," is a greeting one Englishwoman treasures. After a short experience of intellectual circles at a distance, a suspicion arises that their comments are on life at second-hand, and some- what shop-worn at that. It is heart-warming to come back to the silence and scents of the prairie, to hear music in the meadow-lark's song, to see uplift in a man sowing wheat for the hungry, to believe sunrise for the world may come from these level plains, where races mingle without fear or favour, and to spend one's life among neighbours so simple that they do not realise that their daily life fulfils the Apostle's vision :
" Charity suffereth long and is kind ; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up . . . doth not behave itself unseemly . . . Charity hopeth all things."
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