He said that the lecturer had made out a very good case.  He had proved to demonstration, in the most logical manner, that farmers were fools.  Well, no doubt, all the world agreed with him, for everybody thought he could teach the farmer.  The chemist, the grocer, the baker, the banker, the wine merchant, the lawyer, the doctor, the clerk, the mechanic, the merchant, the editor, the printer, the stockbroker, the colliery owner, the ironmaster, the clergyman, and the Methodist preacher, the very cabmen and railway porters, policemen, and no doubt the crossing-sweepers—­to use an expressive Americanism, all the whole “jing-bang”—­could teach the ignorant jackass of a farmer.

Some few years ago he went into a draper’s shop to bring home a parcel for his wife, and happened to enter into conversation with the draper himself.  The draper said he was just going to sell off the business and go into dairy farming, which was the most paying thing out.  That was just when there came over from America a patent machine for milking cows.  The draper’s idea was to milk all his cows by one of these articles, and so dispense with labour.  He saw no more of him for a long time, but had heard that morning that he went into a dairy farm, got rid of all his money, and was now tramping the country as a pedlar with a pack at his back.  Everybody thought he could teach the farmer till he tried farming himself, and then he found his mistake.

One remark of the lecturer, if he might venture to say so, seemed to him, a poor ignorant farmer of sixty years’ standing, not only uncalled-for and priggish, but downright brutal.  It was that the man with little capital ought to be driven out of farming, and the sooner he went to the wall the better.  Now, how would all the grocers and other tradesmen whom he had just enumerated like to be told that if they had not got 10,000_l_. each they ought to go at once to the workhouse!  That would be a fine remedy for the depression of trade.

He always thought it was considered rather meritorious if a man with small capital, by hard work, honest dealing, and self-denial, managed to raise himself and get up in the world.  But, oh no; nothing of the kind; the small man was the greatest sinner, and must be eradicated.  Well, he did not hesitate to say that he had been a small man himself, and began in a very small way.  Perhaps the lecturer would think him a small man still, as he was not a millionaire; but he could pay his way, which went for something in the eyes of old-fashioned people, and perhaps he had a pound or two over.  He should say but one word more, for he was aware that there was a thunderstorm rapidly coming up, and he supposed science would not prevent him from getting a wet jacket.  He should like to ask the lecturer if he could give the name of one single scientific farmer who had prospered?

Having said this much, the old gentleman put on his overcoat and busted out of the room, and several others followed him, for the rain was already splashing against the window-panes.  Others looked at their watches, and, seeing it was late, rose one by one and slipped off.  The president asked if any one would continue the discussion, and, as no one rose, invited the professor to reply.