Jack took the names of five promising men, and asked them to come again the next day.  In the morning I interviewed them, dismissed three, and accepted two on the condition that their references proved satisfactory.  As these men are still at Four Oaks, after seven years of steady employment, and as I hope they will stay twenty years longer, I feel that the reader should know them.  Much of the smooth sailing at the farm is due to their personal interest, steadiness of purpose, and cheerful optimism.

William Thompson, forty-six years of age, tall, lean, wiry, had been a farmer all his life.  His wife had died three years before, and a year later, he had lost his farm through an imperfect title.  Understanding machinery and being a fair carpenter, he then came to the city, with $200 in his pocket, joined the Carpenter’s Union, and tried to make a living at that trade.  Between dull business, lock-outs, tie-ups, and strikes, he was reduced to fifty cents, and owed three dollars for room rent.  He was in dead earnest when he threw his union card on my table and said:—­

“I would rather work for fifty cents a day on a farm than take my chances for six times as much in the union.”

This was the sort of man I wanted:  one who had tried other things and was glad of a chance to return to the land.  Thompson said that after he had spent one lonesome year in the city, he had married a sensible woman of forty, who was now out at service on account of his hard luck.  He also told of a husky son of two-and-twenty who was at work on a farm within fifty miles of the city.  I liked the man from the first, for he seemed direct and earnest.  I told him to eat up the fifty cents he had in his pocket and to see me at noon of the following day.  Meantime I looked up one of his references; and when he came, I engaged him, with the understanding that his time should begin at once.

The wage agreed upon was $20 a month for the first half-year.  If he proved satisfactory, he was to receive $21 a month for the next six months, and there was to be a raise of $1 a month for each half-year that he remained with me until his monthly wage should amount to $40,—­each to give or take a month’s notice to quit.  This seemed fair to both.  I would not pay more than $20 a month to an untried man, but a good man is worth more.  As I wanted permanent, steady help, I proposed to offer a fair bonus to secure it.  Other things being equal, the man who has “gotten the hang” of a farm can do better work and get better results than a stranger.

The transient farm-hand is a delusion and a snare.  He has no interest except his wages, and he is a breeder of discontent.  If the hundreds of thousands of able-bodied men who are working for scant wages in cities, or inanely tramping the country, could see the dignity of the labor which is directly productive, what a change would come over the face of the country!  There are nearly six million farms in this nation,