“There is no man in the world less free than a farmer ...  When you tell of those who have succeeded, who are well provided with everything needful on a farm, who have had better luck than others, you say.—­’Ah, what a fine life they lead!  They are comfortably off, own good cattle.’  That is not how to put it.  The truth is that their cattle own them.  In all the world there is no ‘boss’ who behaves as stupidly as the beasts you favour.  Pretty nearly every day they give you trouble or do you some mischief.  Now it is a skittish horse that runs away or lashes out with his heels; then it is a cow, however good-tempered, that won’t keep still to be milked and tramples on your toes when the flies annoy her.  And even if by good fortune they don’t harm you, they are forever finding a way to destroy your comfort and to vex you...”

“I know how it is; I was brought up on a farm.  And you, most of you farmers, know how it is too.  All the morning you have worked hard, and go to your house for dinner and a little rest.  Then, before you are well seated at table, a child is yelling:—­’The cows are over the fence;’ or ‘The sheep are in the crop,’ and everyone jumps up and runs, thinking of the oats or the barley it has been such a trouble to raise, that these miserable fools are ruining.  The men dash about brandishing sticks till they are out of breath; the women stand screaming in the farm-yard.  And when you have managed to drive the cows or the sheep into their paddock and put up the rails, you get back to the house nicely ‘rested’ to find the pea-soup cold and full of flies, the pork under the table gnawed by dogs and cats, and you eat what you can lay your hands on, watching for the next trick the wretched animals are getting ready to play on you.”

“You are their slaves; that’s what you are.  You tend them, you clean them, you gather up their dung as the poor do the rich man’s crumbs.  It is you who must keep them alive by hard work, because the earth is miserly and the summer so short.  That is the way of it, and there is no help, as you cannot get on without them; but for cattle there would be no living on the land.  But even if you could ... even if you could ... still would you have other masters:  the summer, beginning too late and ending too soon; the winter, eating up seven long months of the year and bringing in nothing; drought and rain which always come just at the wrong moment...”

“In the towns these things do not matter; but here you have no defence against them and they do you hurt; and I have not taken into account the extreme cold, the badness of the roads, the loneliness of being far away from everything, with no amusements.  Life is one kind of hardship on top of another from beginning to end.  It is often said that only those make a real success who are born and brought up on the land, and of course that is true; as for the people in the cities, small danger that they would ever be foolish enough to put up with such a way of living.”