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Summing Up


In the foregoing essays, I have set forth, as clearly as I could, the

facts within my knowledge which seem calculated to cast light upon the

farmer's vocation, and the principles or rules of action which they have

suggested to my mind. I have been careful not to throw any false,

delusive halo over this indispensable calling, and by no means to induce

the belief that the farmer's lot is necessarily and uniformly a happy

one. I know that his is not the royal road to rapid acquisition, and

that few men are likely to amass great wealth by quietly tilling the

soil. I know, moreover, that what passes for farming among us is not so

noble, so intellectual, so attractive, a pursuit as it might and should

be--that most farmers might farm better and live to better purpose than

they do. Of all the false teaching, I most condemn that which flatters

farmers as though they were demigods and their calling the grandest and

the happiest ever followed by mortals, when the hearer, unless very

green, must feel that the speaker doesn't believe one word of all be

utters; for, if he did, he would be farming, instead of living by some

profession, and talking as though his auditors did not know wheat from

chaff. I regard the Agriculture of this country as very far below the

standard which, it should ere this have reached: I hold that the great

mass of our cultivators might and should farm better than they do, and

that better farming would render their sons better citizens and better

men. If a single line of this little work should seem calculated to

cajole its readers into self-complacency rather than instruct them, I

beg them to believe that their impression wrongs my purpose.



I am fully aware that others have treated my theme with fuller knowledge

and far greater ability than I brought to its discussion. "Then why not

leave them the field?" Simply because, when all have written who can

elucidate my theme, at least three-fourths of those who ought to study

and ponder it will not have read any treatise whatever upon

Agriculture--will hardly have yet regarded it as a theme whereon books

should be written and read. And, since there may be some who will read

this treatise for its writer's sake--will read it when they could not be

persuaded to do like honor to a more elaborate and erudite work--I have

written in the hope of arousing in some breasts a spirit of inquiry with

regard to Agriculture as an art based on Science--a spirit which, having

been awakened, will not fall again into torpor, but which will lead on

to the perusal and study of profounder and better books.



In the foregoing essays, I have sought to establish the following

propositions:



1. That good farming is and must ever be a paying business, subject,

like all others, to mischances and pull-backs, and to the general law

that the struggle up from nothing to something is ever an arduous and

almost always a slow process. In the few instances where wealth and

distinction have been swiftly won, they have rarely proved abiding.

There are pursuits wherein success is more envied and dazzling than in

Agriculture; but there is none wherein efficiency and frugality are more

certain to secure comfort and competence.



2. Though the poor man must often go slowly, where wealth may attain

perfection at a bound, and though he may sometimes seem compelled to

till fields not half so amply fertilized as they should be, it is

nevertheless inflexibly true that bounteous crops are grown at a profit,

while half and quarter crops are produced at a loss. A rich man may

afford to grow poor crops, because he can afford to lose by his year's

farming, while the poor man cannot. He ought, therefore, to till no more

acres than he can bring into good condition--to sow no seed, plow no

field, where he is not justified in expecting a good crop. Better five

acres amply fertilized and thoroughly tilled than twenty acres which can

at best make but a meager return, and which a dry or a wet season must

doom to partial if not absolute failure.



3. In choosing a location, the farmer should resolve to choose once for

all. Roaming from State to State, from section to section, is a sad and

far too common mistake. Not merely is it true that "The rolling stone

gathers no moss," but the farmer who wanders from place to place never

acquires that intimate knowledge of soil and climate which is essential

to excellence in his vocation. He cannot read the clouds and learn when

to expect rain, when he may look for days of sunshine, as he could if he

had lived twenty years on the same place. Choose your home in the East,

the South, the Center, the West, if you will (and each section has its

peculiar advantages); but choose once for all, and, having chosen,

regard that choice as final.



4. Our young men are apt to plunge into responsibilities too hastily.

They buy farms while they lack at once experience and means, incur

losses and debts by consequent miscalculations, and drag through life a

weary load, which sours them against their pursuit, when the fault is

entirely their own. No youth should undertake to manage a farm until

after several years of training for that task under the eye of a capable

master of the art of tilling the soil. If he has enjoyed the requisite

advantages on his father's homestead, he may possibly be qualified to

manage a farm at twenty-one; but there are few who might not profitably

wait and learn, in the pay of some successful cultivator, for several

years longer; while I cannot recall an instance of a youth rushing out

of school or a city counting-house to show old farmers how their work

ought to be done, that did not result in disaster. It is very well to

know what Science teaches with regard to farming; but no man was ever a

thoroughly good farmer who had not spent some years in actual contact

with the soil.



5. While every one says of his neighbor, "He farms too much land," the

greed of acquisition does not seem at all chastened. Men stagger under

loads of debt to-day, who might relieve themselves by selling off so

much of their land as they cannot profitably use; but every one seems

intent on holding all he can, as if in expectation of a great advance in

its market value. And yet you can buy farms in every old State in the

Union as cheaply per acre as they could have been bought in like

condition sixty years ago; and I doubt their selling higher sixty years

hence than they do now. No doubt, there are lands, in the vicinage of

growing cities or villages, that have greatly advanced in value; but

these are exceptions: and I counsel every young farmer, every poor

farmer, to buy no more land than he can cultivate thoroughly, save such

as he needs for timber. Never fear that there will not be more land for

sale when you shall have the money wherewith to buy it; but shun debt as

you would the plague, and prefer forty acres all your own to a square

mile heavily mortgaged. I never lifted a mill-stone; but I have

undertaken to carry debts, and they are fearfully heavy.



6. I know that most American farms east of the Roanoke and the Wabash

have too many fields and fences, and that the too prevalent custom of

allowing cattle to prowl over meadow, tillage and forest, from September

to May, picking up a precarious and inadequate subsistence by browsing

and foraging at large, is slovenly, unthrifty, and hardly consistent

with the requirements of good neighborhood. It is at best a miseducation

of your cattle into lawless habits. I do not know just where and when

all pasturing becomes wasteful and improvident; but I do know that

pasturing fosters thistles, briers, and every noxious weed, and so is

inconsistent with cleanly and thorough tillage. I know that the same

acres will feed far more stock, and keep them in better condition, if

their food be cut and fed to them, than if they are sent out to gather

it for themselves. I know that the cost of cutting their grass and other

fodder with modern machinery need not greatly exceed that of driving

them to remote pastures in the morning and hunting them up at nightfall.

I know that penning them ten hours of each twenty-four in a filthy yard,

where they have neither food nor drink, is unwise; and I feel confident

that it is already high time, wherever good grass-land is worth $100 per

acre, to limit pasturage to one small field, as near the center of the

farm as may be, wherein shade and good water abound, into which green

rye, clover, timothy, oats, sowed corn, stalks, etc., etc., may

successively be thrown from every side, and where shelter from a cold,

driving storm, is provided; and that, if cows could be milked here and

left through night as well as day, it would be found good economy.



7. I know that most of us are slashing down our trees most

improvidently, and thus compelling our children to buy timber at thrice

the cost at which we might and should have grown it. I know that it is

wasteful to let White Birch, Hemlock, Scrub Oak, Pitch Pine, Dogwood,

etc., start up and grow on lands which might be cheaply sown with the

seeds of Locust, White Oak, Hickory, Sugar Maple, Chestnut, Black

Walnut, and White Pine. I know that no farm in a settled region is so

large that its owner can really afford to surrender a considerable

portion of it to growing indifferent cord-wood when it would as freely

grow choice timber if seeded therefor; and I feel sure that there are

few farms so small that a portion of each might not be profitably

devoted to the growing of valuable trees. I know that the common

presumption that land so devoted will yield no return for a life-time is

wrong--know that, if thickly and properly seeded, it will begin to yield

bean-poles, hoop-poles, etc., the fifth or sixth year from planting, and

thenceforth will yield more and more abundantly forever. I know that

good timber, in any well-peopled region, should not be cut off, but

cut out--thinned judiciously but moderately and trimmed up, so that it

shall grow tall and run to trunk instead of branches; and I know that

there are all about us millions of acres of rocky crests and

acclivities, steep ravines and sterile sands, that ought to be seeded to

timber forthwith, kept clear of cattle, and devoted to tree-growing

evermore.



8. I do not know that all lands may be profitably underdrained. Wooded

uplands, I know, could not be. Fields which slope considerably, and so

regularly that water never stagnates upon or near their surface, do very

well without. Light, leachy sands, like those of Long Island, Southern

Jersey, Eastern Maryland, and the Carolinas, seem to do fairly without.

Yet my conviction is strong that nearly all land which is to be

persistently cultivated will in time be underdrained. I would urge no

farmer to plunge up to his neck into debt in order to underdrain his

farm. But I would press every one who has no experience on this head

to select his wettest field, or the wettest part of such field, and,

having carefully read and digested Waring's, French's, or some other

approved work on the subject, procure file and proceed next Fall to

drain that field or part of a field thoroughly, taking especial

precautions against back-water, and watch the effect until satisfied

that it will or will not pay to drain further. I think few, have drained

one acre thoroughly, and at no unnecessary cost, without being impelled

by the result to drain more and faster until they had tiled at least

half their respective farms.



9. As to irrigation, I doubt that there is a farm in the United States

where something might not be profitably done forthwith to secure

advantage from the artificial retention and application of water.

Wherever a brook or runnel crosses or skirts a farm, the question--"Can

the water here running uselessly by be retained, and in due season

equably diffused over some portion of this land?"--at once presents

itself. One who has never looked with this now will be astonished at the

facility with which some acres of nearly every farm may be irrigated.

Often, a dam that need not cost $20 will suffice to hold back ten

thousand barrels of water, so that it may be led off along the upper

edge of a slope or glade, falling off just enough to maintain a gentle,

steady current, and so providing for the application of two or three

inches of water to several acres of tillage or grass just when the

exigencies of crop and season most urgently require such irrigation. Any

farmer east of the Hudson can tell where such an application would have

doubled the crop of 1870, and precluded the hard necessity of selling or

killing cattle not easily replaced.



Of course, this is but a rude beginning. In time, we shall dam very

considerable streams mainly to this end, and irrigate hundreds and

thousands of acres from a single pond or reservoir. Wells will be sunk

on plains and gentle swells now comparatively arid and sterile, and wind

or steam employed to raise water into reservoirs whence wide areas of

surrounding or subjacent land will be refreshed at the critical moment,

and thus rendered bounteously productive. On the vast, bleak, treeless

Plains of the wild West, even Artesian wells will be sunk for this

purpose; and the water thus obtained will prove a source of fertility

as well as refreshment, enriching the soil by the minerals which it

holds in solution, and insuring bounteous crops from wide stretches of

now barren and worthless desert. Immigration will yet thickly dot the

great Sahara with oases of verdure and plenty; but it will, long ere

that, have covered the valleys of our Great Basin and those which skirt

the affluents of the savage and desolate Colorado with a beauty and

thrift surpassing the dreams of poets. And yet, its easiest and readiest

triumphs are to be won right here--in the valleys of the Connecticut,

the Hudson, the Susquehanna, and the Potomac.



10. As to Commercial Fertilizers, I think I have been well paid for the

application of Gypsum (Plaster of Paris) to my upland grass at the rate

of one bushel per acre per annum, while my tillage has been supplied

with it by dusting my stables with it after each cleaning, and so

applying it mingled with barn-yard manures. Lime (unslaked) from burned

oyster-shells, costing me from 25 to 30 cents per bushel delivered, I

have applied liberally, and I judge, with profit. Bones, ground, (the

finer the better) I have largely and I think advantageously used; but my

land had been mainly pastured for nearly two centuries before I bought

it, and thus continually drained of Phosphates, yet never replenished:

so my experience does not prove that the farmers of newer lands ought to

buy bones, though I advise them to apply all they can save or pick up at

small cost. Pound them very fine with a beetle or ax-head on a flat

stone, and give them to your fowls: if they refuse a part of them, your

soil will prove less dainty. I am not sure that it pays to buy any

manufactured Phosphate when you can get Raw Bone; though I doubt not

that, for instant effect, the Phosphate is far superior. As to Guano, it

has not paid me; but that may be the fault of careless or unskillful

application. I judge that any one who has to deal with sterile sands

that will not bring Clover, may wisely apply 400 pounds of Guano per

acre, provided he has nothing else that will answer the purpose. After

he has produced one good stand of Clover, I doubt that he can afford to

buy more Guano, unless he can apply it to better purpose than I have yet

done.



I have a strong impression that most farmers can do better at making and

saving fertilizers than by buying them. Lime and Sulphur (Gypsum), if

your soil lacks them, you must buy; but a good farmer who keeps even a

span of horses, three or four cows, as many pigs, and a score of fowls,

can make for $100 fertilizers which I would rather have than two tuns of

Guano, costing him $180 to $200. If he has a patch of bog or a miry pond

on his farm--any place where frogs will live--he can dig thence, in the

dryest time next Fall, two or three hundred loads of Muck, which, having

been left to dry on the nearest high ground till November or later, and

then drawn up and dumped into his barn-yard, pig-pen, and fowl-house,

will be ready to come out next Spring in season for corn-planting, and,

being liberally applied, will do as much for his crop as two tons of

Guano would, and will strengthen his land far more. If he has no Muck,

and no neighbor who can spare it as well as not, let him at midsummer

cut all the weeds growing on and around his farm, and in the Fall gather

all the leaves that can be impounded, using these as litter for his

cattle and beds for his pigs, and he will be agreeably surprised at the

bulk of his heap next Spring.



I am an intense believer in Home Production. We send ten thousand miles

for Guano, and suffer the equally valuable excretions of our cities to

run to waste in rivers and bays, poisoning or driving away the fish, and

filling the air with stench and pestilence. No farmer ever yet

intelligently tried to enrich his land and was defeated by lack of

material. He may not be able to do all he would like to at first; but

persistent effort cannot be baffled.



11. Shallow culture is the most crying defect of our average farming.

Poverty may sometimes excuse it; but the excuse is stretched quite too

far. If a farmer has but a poor span of horses, or a light yoke of thin

steers, he cannot plow land as it should be plowed; but let him double

teams with his neighbor, and plow alternate clays on either farm; or, if

this may not be, let him buy or borrow a sub-soil plow, and go once

around with his surface plow, then hitch on to the sub-soil, and run

another furrow in the bottom of the former. There are a few intervales

of rich, mellow soil, deposited by the inundations of countless ages,

where shallow culture will answer, because the roots of the plants run

freely through fertile earth never yet disturbed by the plow; but these

marked and meagre exceptions do not invalidate the truth that

nine-tenths of our tillage is neither so deep nor so thorough as it

should be. As a rule, the feeding-roots of plants do not run below the

bottom of the furrows, though in some instances they do; and he who

fancies that five or six inches of soil will, under our fervid suns,

with our Summers often rainless for weeks, produce as bounteous and as

sure a crop as twelve to eighteen inches, is impervious to fact or

reason. He might as sensibly maintain that you could draw as long and as

heavily against a deposit in bank of $500 as against one of $1,500.



12. Finally, and as the sum of my convictions, we need more thought,

more study, more intellect, infused into our Agriculture, with less

blind devotion to a routine which, if ever judicious, has long since

ceased to be so. The tillage which a pioneer, fighting single-handed and

all but empty-handed with a dense forest of giant trees, which he can do

no better than to cut down and burn, found indispensable among their

stumps and roots, is not adapted to the altered circumstances of his

grandchildren. If our most energetic farmers would abstract ten hours

each per week from their incessant drudgery, and devote them to reading

and reflection with regard to their noble calling, they would live

longer, live to better purpose, and bequeath a better example, with more

property, to their children.



* * * * *



My self-imposed task is done. I undertook to tell What I Know of Farming

through one brief essay for each week in 1870; and, in the face of

multifarious and pressing duties, and in despite of a severe, protracted

illness, the work has been prosecuted to completion. Had I not kept

ahead of it while in health, there were weeks when I must have left it

unaccomplished, as I was too ill to write or even stand.



I close with the avowal of my joyful trust that these essays, slight and

imperfect as they are, will incite thousands of young farmers to feel a

loftier pride in their calling and take a livelier interest in its

improvement, and that many will be induced by them to read abler and

better works on Agriculture and the sciences which minister to its

efficiency and impel its progress toward a perfection which few as yet

have even faintly foreseen.



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