But Mr.George, the farmer, who has been working among the haymakers, steps out from the rank, and going some way aside pauses awhile to consider.

You should not address him as Farmer George.

Farmer as an affix is not the thing now; farmers are 'Mr.So-and-so.' Not that there is any false pride about the present individual; his memory goes back too far, and he has had too much experience of the world.

He leans on his prong--the sharp forks worn bright as silver from use--stuck in the sward, and his chest pressing on the top of the handle, or rather on both hands, with which he holds it.
The handle makes an angle of forty-five degrees with his body, and thus gives considerable support and relief while he reflects.
He leans on his prong, facing to windward, and gazing straight into the teeth of the light breeze, as he has done these forty and odd summers past.

Like the captain of a sailing ship, the eye of the master haymaker must be always watching the horizon to windward.