1 24 Life and Sport on the Pacific Slope 



The petty farmer, who to-day buys anything at 

 the local store except tea and coffee and sugar and 

 clothes, is either a fool or a spendthrift. 



It is so easy to have a "home" on the Pacific 

 Slope : roses bloom perpetually ; all fruits and vege- 

 tables grow in profusion and perfection ; the dairy, 

 the poultry yard, and the hog pen should keep 

 the table abundantly supplied. What ruined the 

 farmers in the hard times was not drought, nor 

 low prices, nor bank failures, but big store bills 

 and big mortgages. If the farmer and his wife 

 and his sons and daughters had been content to 

 wear canvas and fustian, to eat only what was 

 raised on the ranch, to work together — the hus- 

 band and his sons behind the plough and harrow, 

 the mother and daughters in the dairy and poultry 

 yards — they would have weathered the storm. 

 Instead of this, they kept up appearances. The 

 ranch was mortgaged and crop-mortgaged, and every 

 acre sown to wheat : a dishonest speculation, which 

 proved disastrous also. 



I have known some happy farmers — a few. If 

 you wish the soil to bless you, you must wrestle 

 with it, as Jacob wrestled with the angel. And 

 the fight must be — without gloves and to the 

 finish. Kid-glove farmers are the most unhappy 

 of all. And the soil will stain your hands and 

 roughen them; and the hard toil will warp your 

 mind as it will bend your back. Great loss is 

 involved; and the gain may not be easily com- 

 puted. And yet despite an experience which has 

 been unfortunate, I firmly believe that life in the 

 open air, beneath the genial skies of the Pacific 



