Vermilion School of Agriculture - Yearbook (Vermilion, Alberta Canada)

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ThanlV ' fiir the Buggy UuLe { Page twenty-five ]

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“FARMING IN INDIA” (Continued from page six) being filled in with cow-dung, and the roofs thatched with straw or palms. Mother earth supplies the necessary floor, and this is generally smoothened with frequent applications of liquid manure. Beds are a luxury, and then are crudely made of four posts, about a foot off the ground, with the necessary cross-pieces, and coir string criss-crossed to hold the scanty bedding; in most houses, a mat on the floor indicates the nightly resting place, and a thin sheet serves as the sole covering for the night, even in the coldest weather. Of other furniture, there is none. A mud oven may be inside the house, but is generally without. As for wall decorations, there is little to relieve the eye; perhaps a gaudily colored print of a god with several arms and heads, or of a figure possessing a squatting human, body and elephant’s head, (the god Ganpati). To the Western eye their habitations are almost untenable, more especially when a large family is clustered under a single small roof; yet the ryot’s contentment is almost blissful; his wife sweeps the floor, and occasionally applies an additional coat of cow-dung to it; her brass plates and aluminum dishes are kept assiduously clean by daily scrubbing them with mud and ashes; she has little trouble in dressing the children for their sole garment con¬ sists of a piece of string around the neck or waist, and she proves herself a veritable help-mate to her man. Wheat and rice are among the most important crops of India; in 1904, she was Britain’s largest wheat supplier, but has now fallen from that pre-eminent position. The annual wheat produced varies between 250.000,000 and 350,000,000 bushels, mostly soft varieties, and some hard Canadian wheats are imported for blending purposes. Rice is the staple food of the middle and better classes, and a fair quantity is also available for export. Millets supply the staple food of the ryot himself and the poo rer classes, and they grow prolifically; in some districts, better suited for its growth, gram (legume) takes the place of millets as the ryot’s main food. Linseed and castor seed are largely grown for export purposes; the linseed cake is also exported to the Continent, but the ryot recognizes its value for stock feeding if he can afford it. and the quality of the oil produced is recognized as of a high order—it is mostly consumed by indigenous paint companies. Such is the nature of Indian soil and climatic conditions, that it can produce almost any variety of cereal or fruit. The fruit orchards on the Himalayan slopes grown most European fruits,—though the Europeans will not admit to the taste and quality being equal to their home grown varieties—and the plains afford a vast profusion of tropical fruits. Tea and coffee cannot be excluded from the agricultural products of India; tea was introduced by European enterprise in the middle of the past century, and the majority of the tea-planters are English—and a lonely lot their s is too, with their vast estates staffed by coolies, (women, mostly, do the picking of the tender leaves to be later dried and used for tea), they seldom see a white face. Coffee is an indigenous plant, and is grown principally in the hotter regions of the south, the cultivation being largely followed by natives, though there are also several European coffee planters. The rainfall of India varies exceedingly; Cherapunji, in Bengal, holds a world’s record in submitting itself to a deluge averaging 500 inches a year; I have seen 1 2 inches—the yearly average in some parts of Canada fall in one day in Bombay, which has an average fall of 90 inches; but. this is not universal. Some tracts are particularly subject to drought. If it has been said that the Ind.an cultivator will not reform to modern advanced farming methods, he can surely teach his fellow worker on the prairies of Canada many instructive lessons in irrigation. His methods compare favorably with the colossal projects inaugurated by the govern¬ ment. Practically all the rain falls during the monsoon months, June to September, and it has behoved the ryot to devise means of watering the arid tracts. These are both ingenious and praiseworthy. I have seen farms in Canada skirting rivers and lakes, and the owners making no attempt to derive any benefit from their advantageous situations. Compare the methods of the Indian cultivator. Most faims have a substantial well, some 15 to 20 feet in diameter; these are located on the highest ground on the farm; a simple pulley is rigged up over the well, and a huge leather mussock capable of holding some 20 gallons of water is let down into the well, and pulled up by a rope over the pulley and attached to the yoke of the cattle. To lighten the task of the oxen, a slope is cut from the side of the well, down which they run. Arriving at the top, the mussock empties itself into an earthern or cement trough, from which it is fed to various parts of the farm by means of mud drains, built by hand. The ryot may be seen at his happiest irrigating his fields, for he balances himself on the rope attached to the oxen gaily chanting a bucolic song as the monotonous tramp up and down the slope continues. In some parts of the country, the cultivators bail water from a canal or river running by their lands, into a trough on higher land, and from this it is fed to their fields by the same clever system of mud drains. Rough holes are made in the sides of the drains through which the water flows to the fields, and these are easily closed with mud whenever necessary For bailing purposes a mussock or stout piece of matting is used with ropes attached to the four corners. Two or four laborers man these ropes, and lift the water to the trough on the higher level, keeping time the whiie to a song bawled out by one of the group. Occasionally, when the level of the land is appreciably higher than the water two troughs are made, and two gangs of water lifters ccme into play. Many Canadian farmers, situated near lakes or rivers might well emulate the Indians in their methods of irrigation. They have better means at their disposal in the shape of horses which are idle for a goodly portion of the year; they often have, or can readily procure a motor with which to pump water to their fields, and may use pipes instead of the rough mud d rains built by the Indian. At present they leave them¬ selves too much at the mercy of the elements. In regard to cattle, it has already been stated that oxen alone are used for farm work practically throughout the country near the Sind desert camels are hitched to the plow. The military authorities have some particularly splendid specimens of bullocks which are used for transport purposes, though these are now conceding place to the tractor; some of these animals possess magnificent, even terrifying horns branch¬ ing out to 4 and 5 feet between the tips. The buffalo—a cross between the wild bull and domestic cow—supplies a very rich milk, often too rich to feed to children, from which is made the best ghi or clarified butter with which most of the European cooking is done. This is too expensive for most Indians who use various oils. The cattle found on the farms are usually a sorry spectacle, due mainly to lack of pastures, and the ryot’s ignorance of proper breeding methods. Here again the poverty of the cultivator prohibits him experimenting in breeding methods; he cannot afford to buy good stock; in regard to pastures, he puts as much of his land as he can into a crop of some kind in order to make it as productive as possible. Cattle improvement is therefore left mainly to government agriculturalists. In many districts, goats represent the ryot’s dairy cattle, and supply him with his milk; it is not an uncommon sight to see the nanny-goats browsing on the dry parched plains with gunny bags tied round their udders, that their young may not deprive the owners of their milk supply. Although so desperately poor, the lot of the Indian ryot is gradually improving. The government agriculturalists strive to teach them the benefits of modern farming machinery and methods; they are attempting to improve the live-stock, and to unloose the strangle hold of the relent¬ less money-lenders; experiments are in progress towards improving seed (Continued on page 39) [ Page twenty-four ]

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Life in the West Wing T JL HE pleasant May day is drawing to a close. You have finished the last round and shut down the tractor for the night. Home to supper, then a quick change, and you are in the old fliver on your way to the dance, with the only girl in the world telling you what a perfectly w o o n nderful driver you are. A bell rings faintly far off. and you wonder idly what it is. After a considerable time you arrive at the dance, and presently you are floating across the floor to the dreamy strains of a waltz. Suddenly you feel a jab in the ribs, and someone yells, “Hey! snap out of it, yuh big stiff, the bell went twenty minutes ago.’’ You awake to the grim reality of ten short minutes before break¬ fast, and the awful realization that the door will be locked two minutes after Grace is said. You break all existing speed records getting dressed, and as you grab for your shaving kit you mentally resolve to get an alarm clock before another day catches you late for breakfast. A mad rush to the wash-room, where you see ten boys using eight basins and ten more waiting. By the time you get a basin you have thirty minutes to go, so you leave the shaving until after breakfast and, believe it or not, you generally get there on time. Indeed, it can truthfully be said that there is a greater display of real speed in the five minutes preceding breakfast than at any other time during the day. After breakfast the gang congregate in the smoking room. Dark rumors are afloat. It seems that our doughty hand-spring expert and his good natured assistant from Irma are going to lead a punitive ex¬ pedition against certain refractory students, with the fell purpose of giving them some first hand information on initiation. The proposed victims catch the rumor and retire to confer among themselves. The gang slowly disperses. Suddenly a rubber band snaps and a pellet hits the wall, or possibly someone’s face gets in the way. The unfortunate owner of the face reaches for his weapon and ammunition as he dives for the doubtful protection of a chair back, and the air grows thick with flying bits of paper, orange peel, or anything else which comes handy. The warning bell brings this to an abrupt close, for fifty cents buys a ticket to the show just as easily as it pays a fine for being late for class besides giving much more satisfaction to the owner of the afore¬ said fifty cents. Generally someone forgets a book, and comes tip¬ toeing back into the wing to be speeded on his way by the housekeeper, should she happen to see him. When noon comes there is a scramble for the post office. The un¬ fortunates whose boxes are empty return in disorder, loudly declaring that they’ll never write another letter. With this off their chests, they sit down and start one or two before dinner. If this happens to be Wednesday, there is great speculation as to whom you will have to eat your meals with for the next week. When the bell rings there is a scramble, quiet but none the less desperate, for clothes pins and for the seats farthest away from the server’s place. A subdued tustle is noticed at one table where the lad with the fan on top of his head refuses to take his turn at serving. This has an interesting sequel after dinner when the obdurate Scotty is shoved under a shower without the usual formality of removing his clothes. If there happens to be pie for dinner, a few of the best long distance eaters will be seen waiting outside the door on the boys’ side after the meal is over. After a nerve-racking wait, the staff rises and departs. While the door is still closing after them, there is a rush from the west side, the fastest sprinter getting most of the left-over pie. At least, that is the theory. We strongly suspect that the little kitchen girl with the big smile has a soft place in her heart for some of the sprinters, judging by the fact that the last comer often departs with the biggest piece of pie. Of course, tumbling is hard work, and probably necessitates extra nourishment. At one-thirty the boys depart for Carpentry or Blacksmithing as the powers-that-be have decreed, or perchance, it is to rack their weary brains (if any) over chemical equations which refuse to be balanced, or to speculate on the best way to hang a person by means of pulley and lever until the awesome “Parallelogram of Forces’ is sprung on them, at which they quietly swoon away. There are generally a few brief skirmishes in the corridors before supper, but the boys are too fatigued by the heavy day’s work to do more than lie on the bed and wait for supper. When the bell rings, fatigue is forgotten in the rush to the dining room. After supper, there is a general trek to the gym to watch the would-be champs, battle for the basketball cup, or possibly to watch Bob demon¬ strate hand springs, fore and aft, for the benefit of his troupe of aspiring converts, who comment on how easy it looks, then try it for themselves and generally succeed in landing on that portion of their anatomy upon which they are accustomed to sit, while the lights dance the heel and toe before their astonished eyes. (If you don’t believe this, try it once.) Not all, we hasten to add, attend to watch the performance. You may verify this by glancing up in the balcony any evening. However, the balconyites appear to enjoy themsleves, so that is that. They are there, by the way, because intimate parking in front of the radio is frowned on by the matron, as some of the boys and girls have discovered. Study hour comes all too soon, and one of the staff appears on the scene to herd the crowd out of .he gym. There is a slow and reluctant dispersal to the various rooms, not forgetting the smoking rooms. The term “Study Hour’’ is a misnomer in most cases, though, of course, various pillow fights must be carried on more or less quietly. The fact that these scrimmages are against the rules adds a gust which would otherwise be lacking. The lid is off at 10 p.m. and almost anything is apt to happen to the unwary one who walks boldly through a door with¬ out reconnoitring to locate any sniper who happens to be hiding around the corner, sling shot in hand. The fun reaches its greatest height about the time the “Lights Out’’ bell gees, and it passes unnoticed. It is surprising, though, how the sound of a hard heel on the stairs will dis¬ perse a howling mob who failed to hear a bell that would wake the dead. When the door opens, the corridor is empty, and all is quiet on the western front. And so it goes. In the immortal words of Shakespeare, or some¬ body, “ It’s a great life, if you don’t weaken.’’ R.L. [ Page twenty-six ]