TALKS ON MANURES A SERIES OF FAMILIAR AND PRACTICAL TALKS BETWEEN THE AUTHOR AND THE DEACON, THE DOCTOR, AND OTHER NEIGHBORS, ON THE WHOLE SUBJECT TEXT

manure one. Is this “high farming?” I think in my circumstances it is good farming, but it is not high farming. It gives me large crops per acre, but I have comparatively few acres in crops that are sold from the farm. “High farming,” if the term is to have any definite meaning at all should only be used to express the idea of a farm so managed that the soil is rich enough to produce maximum crops _every year_. If you adopt the system of rotation quite general in this section--say, 1st year, corn on sod; 2d, barley or oats; 3d, wheat; 4th, clover for hay and afterwards for seed; 5th, timothy and clover for hay; and then the 6th year plowed up for corn again--it would be necessary to make the land rich enough to produce say 100 bushels shelled corn, 50 bushels of barley, 40 bushels of wheat, 3 tons clover-hay, and 5 bushels of clover-seed, and 3 tons clover and timothy-hay per acre. This would be _moderate_ high farming. If we introduced lucern, Italian rye-grass, corn-fodder, and mangel-wurzel into the rotation, we should need still richer land to produce a maximum growth of these crops. In other words, we should need more manure. The point I am endeavoring to get at, is this: Where you want a farm to be self-supporting--where you depend solely on the produce of the farm to supply manure--it is a sheer impossibility to adopt high farming _on the whole of your land_. I want to raise just as large crops per acre as the high farmers, but there is no way of doing this, unless we go outside the farm for manure, without raising a smaller area of such crops as are sold from the farm. I do not wish any one to suppose that I am opposed to high farming. There is occasionally a farm where it may be practised with advantage, but it seems perfectly clear to my mind that as long as there is such an unlimited supply of _land_, and such a limited supply of fertilizers, most of us will find it more profitable to develop the latent stores of plant-food lying dormant in the soil rather than to buy manures. And it is certain that you can not adopt high farming without either buying manure directly, or buying food to feed to animals that shall make manure on the farm. And you must recollect that high farming requires an increased supply of labor, and hired help is a luxury almost as costly as artificial fertilizers. We have heard superficial thinkers object to agricultural papers on the ground that they were urging farmers to improve their land and produce larger crops, “while,” say they, “we are producing so much already that it will not sell for as much as it costs to produce it.” My plan of improved agriculture does not necessarily imply the production of any more wheat or of any more grain of any kind that we sell than we raise at present. I would simply raise it on fewer acres, and thus lessen the expense for seed, cultivation, harvesting, etc. I would raise 30 bushels of wheat per acre every third year, instead of 10 bushels every year. If we summer-fallowed and plowed under clover in order to produce the 30 bushels of wheat once in three years, instead of 10 bushels every year, no more produce of any kind would be raised. But my plan does not contemplate such a result. On my own farm I seldom summer-fallow, and never plow under clover. I think I can enrich the farm nearly as much by feeding the clover to animals and returning the manure to the land. The animals do not take out more than from five to ten per cent of the more valuable elements of plant-food from the clover. And so my plan, while it produces as much and no more grain to sell, adds greatly to the fertility of the land, and gives an increased production of beef, mutton, wool, butter, cheese, and pork. “But what is a man to do who is poor and has poor land?” If he has good health, is industrious, economical, and is possessed of a fair share of good common sense, he need have no doubt as to being able to renovate his farm and improve his own fortune. Faith in good farming is the first requisite. If this is weak, it will be strengthened by exercise. If you have not faith, act as though you had. Work hard, but do not be a drudge. A few hours’ vigorous labor will accomplish a great deal, and encourage you to continued effort. Be prompt, systematic, cheerful, and enthusiastic. Go to bed early and get up when you wake. But take sleep enough. A man had better be in bed than at the tavern or grocery. Let not friends, even, keep you up late; “manners is manners, but still your elth’s your elth.” “But what has this to do with good farming?” More than chemistry and all the science of the schools. Agriculture is an art and must be followed as such. Science will help--help enormously--but it will never enable us to dispense with industry. Chemistry throws great light on the art of cooking, but a farmer’s wife will roast a turkey better than a Liebig. When Mr. James O. Sheldon, of Geneva. N.Y., bought his farm, his entire crop of hay the first year was 76 loads. He kept stock, and bought more or less grain and bran, and in eleven years from that time his farm produced 430 loads of hay, afforded pasture for his large herd of Shorthorn cattle, and produced quite as much grain as when he first took it. Except in the neighborhood of large cities, “high farming” may not pay, owing to the fact that we have so much land. But whether this is so or not, there can be no doubt that the only profitable system of farming is to raise large crops on such land as we cultivate. High farming gives us large crops, and _many of them_. At present, while we have so much land in proportion to population, we must, perhaps, be content with large crops of grain, and few of them. We must adopt the slower but less expensive means of enriching our land from natural sources, rather than the quicker, more artificial, and costly means adopted by many farmers in England, and by market gardeners, seed-growers, and nurserymen in this country. Labor is so high that we can not afford to raise a small crop. If we sow but half the number of acres, and double the yield, we should quadruple our profits. I have made up my mind to let the land lie in clover three years, instead of two. This will lessen the number of acres under cultivation, and enable us to bestow more care in plowing and cleaning it. And the land will be richer, and produce better crops. The atmosphere is capable of supplying a certain quantity of ammonia to the soil in rains and dews every year, and by giving the wheat crop a three years supply instead of two years, we gain so much. Plaster the clover, top-dress it in the fall, if you have the manure, and stimulate its growth in every way possible, and consume all the clover on the land, or in the barn-yard. Do not sell a single ton; let not a weed grow, and the land will certainly improve. The first object should be to destroy weeds. I do not know how it is in other sections, but with us the majority of farms are completely overrun with weeds. They are eating out the life of the land, and if something is not done to destroy them, even exorbitantly high prices can not make farming profitable. A farmer yesterday was contending that it did not pay to summer-fallow. He has taken a run-down farm, and a year ago last spring he plowed up ten acres of a field, and sowed it to barley and oats. The remainder of the field he summer-fallowed, plowing it four times, rolling and harrowing thoroughly after each plowing. After the barley and oats were off, he plowed the land once, harrowed it and sowed Mediterranean wheat. On the summer-fallow he drilled in Diehl wheat. He has just threshed, and got 22 bushels per acre of Mediterranean wheat after the spring crop, at one plowing, and 26 bushels per acre of Diehl wheat on the summer-fallow. This, he said, would not pay, as it cost him $20 per acre to summer-fallow, and he lost the use of the land for one season. Now this may be all true, and yet it is no argument against summer-fallowing. Wait a few years. Farming is slow work. Mr. George Geddes remarked to me, when I told him I was trying to renovate a run-down farm, “you will find it the work of your life.” We ought not to expect a big crop on poor, run-down land, simply by plowing it three or four times in as many months. Time is required for the chemical changes to take place in the soil. But watch the effect on the clover for the next two years, and when the land is plowed again, see if it is not in far better condition than the part not summer-fallowed. I should expect the clover on the summer-fallow to be fully one-third better in quantity, and of better quality than on the other part, and this extra quantity of clover will make an extra quantity of good manure, and thus we have the means of going on with the work of improving the farm. “Yes,” said the Doctor, “and there will also be more clover-roots in the soil.” “But I can not afford to wait for clover, and summer-fallowing,” writes an intelligent New York gentleman, a dear lover of good stock, who has bought an exhausted New England farm, “I must have a portion of it producing good crops right off.” Very well. A farmer with plenty of money can do wonders in a short time. Set a gang of ditchers to work, and put in underdrains where most needed. Have teams and plows enough to do the work rapidly. As soon as the land is drained and plowed, put on a heavy roller. Then sow 500 lbs. of Peruvian guano per acre broadcast, or its equivalent in some other fertilizer. Follow with a Shares’ harrow. This will mellow the surface and cover the guano without disturbing the sod. Follow with a forty-toothed harrow, and roll again, if needed, working the land until there is three or four inches of fine, mellow surface soil. Then mark off the land in rows as straight as an arrow, and plant corn. Cultivate thoroughly, and kill every weed. If the ditchers can not get through until it is too late to plant corn, drill in beans on the last drained part of the field. Another good crop to raise on a stock farm is corn-fodder. This can be drilled in from time to time as the land can be got ready. Put on half a ton of guano per acre and harrow in, and then mark off the rows three feet apart, and drill in four bushels of corn per acre. Cultivate thoroughly, and expect a great crop. By the last of July, the Ayrshire cows will take kindly to the succulent corn-fodder, and with three or four quarts of meal a day, it will enable each of them to make 10 lbs. of butter a week. For the pigs, sow a few acres of peas. These will do well on sod-land, sown early or late, or a part early and a part late, as most convenient. Sow broadcast and harrow in, 500 lbs. of Peruvian guano per acre and 200 lbs. of gypsum. Drill in three bushels of peas per acre, or sow broadcast, and cover them with a Shares’ harrow. Commence to feed the crop green as soon as the pods are formed, and continue to feed out the crop, threshed or unthreshed, until the middle of November. Up to this time the bugs do comparatively little damage. The pigs will thrive wonderfully on this crop, and make the richest and best of manure. I have little faith in any attempt to raise root crops on land not previously well prepared. But as it is necessary to have some mangel-wurzel and Swede turnips for the Ayrshire cows and long-wool sheep next winter and spring, select the cleanest and richest land that can be found that was under cultivation last season. If fall plowed, the chances of success will be doubled. Plow the land two or three times, and cultivate, harrow, and roll until it is as mellow as a garden. Sow 400 lbs. of Peruvian guano and 300 lbs. of good superphosphate per acre broadcast, and harrow them in. Ridge up the land into ridges 2½ to 3 ft. apart, with a double mould-board plow. Roll down the ridges with a light roller, and drill in the seed. Sow the mangel-wurzel in May--the earlier the better--and the Swedes as soon afterwards as the land can be thoroughly prepared. Better delay until June rather than sow on rough land. The first point on such a farm will be to attend to the grass land. This affords the most hopeful chance of getting good returns the first year. But no time is to be lost. Sow 500 lbs. of Peruvian guano per acre on all the grass land and on the clover, with 200 lbs. of gypsum in addition on the latter. If this is sown early enough, so that the spring rains dissolve it and wash it into the soil, great crops of grass may be expected. “But will it pay?” My friend in New York is a very energetic and successful business man, and he has a real love for farming, and I have no sort of doubt that, taking the New York business and the farm together, they will afford a very handsome profit. Furthermore, I have no doubt that if, after he has drained it, he would cover the whole farm with 500 lbs. of Peruvian guano per acre, or its equivalent, it would pay him better than any other agricultural operation he is likely to engage in. By the time it was on the land the cost would amount to about $20 per acre. If he sells no more grass or hay from the farm than he would sell if he did not use the guano, this $20 may very properly be added to the permanent capital invested in the farm. And in this aspect of the case, I have no hesitation in saying it will pay a high rate of interest. His bill for labor will be as much in one case as in the other; and if he uses the guano he will probably double his crops. His grass lands will carry twenty cows instead of ten, and if he raises the corn-fodder and roots, he can probably keep thirty cows better than he could otherwise keep a dozen; and, having to keep a herdsman in either case, the cost of labor will not be much increased. “But you think it will not pay?” It will probably not pay _him_. I do not think _his_ business would pay me if I lived on my farm, and went to New York only once or twice a week. If there is one business above all others that requires constant attention, it is farming--and especially stock-farming. But my friend is right in saying that he cannot afford to wait to enrich his land by clover and summer-fallowing. His land costs too much; he has a large barn and everything requisite to keep a large stock of cattle and sheep. The interest on farm and buildings, and the money expended in labor, would run on while the dormant matter in the soil was slowly becoming available under the influence of good tillage. The large barn must be filled at once, and the only way to do this is to apply manure with an unsparing hand. If he lived on the farm, I should have no doubt that, by adopting this course, and by keeping improved stock, and feeding liberally, he could make money. Perhaps he can find a man who will successfully manage the farm under his direction, but the probabilities are that his present profit and pleasure will come from the gratification of his early love for country life. CHAPTER II. WHAT IS MANURE? “What is the good of asking such a question as that?” said the Deacon; “we all know what manure is.” “Well, then,” I replied, “tell us what it is?” “_It is anything that will make crops grow better and bigger_,” replied the Deacon. “That is not a bad definition,” said I; “but let us see if it is a true one. You have two rows of cabbage in the garden, and you water one row, and the plants grow bigger and better. Is _water_ manure? You cover a plant with a hand-glass, and it grows bigger and better. Is a hand-glass manure? You shelter a few plants, and they grow bigger and better. Is shelter manure? You put some pure sand round a few plants, and they grow bigger and better. Is pure sand manure? I think we shall have to reject the Deacon’s definition.” Let us hear what the Doctor has to say on the subject. “Manure,” replied the Doctor, “is the _food of plants_.” “That is a better definition,” said I; “but this is really not answering the question. You say manure is plant-food. But what is plant-food?” “Plant-food,” said the Doctor, “is composed of twelve elements, and, possibly, sometimes one or two more, which we need not here talk about. Four of these elements are gases, oxygen, hydrogen, carbon, and nitrogen. When a plant or animal is burnt, these gases are driven off. The ashes which remain are composed of potash, soda, lime, and magnesia; sulphuric acid, phosphoric acid, chlorine, and silica. In other words, the ‘food of plants’ is composed of four organic, or gaseous elements, and eight inorganic, or mineral elements, of which four have acid and four alkaline properties.” “Thank you, Doctor,” said the Deacon, “I am glad to know what manure is. It is the food of plants, and the food of plants is composed of four gases, four acid and four alkaline elements. I seem to know all about it. All I have wanted to make my land rich was plenty of manure, and now I shall know where to get it--oxygen, hydrogen, carbon, and nitrogen; these four atmospheric elements. Then potash, soda, magnesia, and lime. I know what these four are. Then sulphur, phosphorous, silica (sand,) and chlorine (salt). I shall soon have rich land and big crops.” Charley, who has recently come home from college, where he has been studying chemistry, looked at the Deacon, and was evidently puzzled to understand him. Turning to the Doctor, Charley asked modestly if what the Doctor had said in regard to the composition of plant food could not be said of the composition of all our animals and plants. “Certainly,” replied the Doctor, “all our agricultural plants and all our animals, man included, are composed of these twelve elements, oxygen, hydrogen, carbon, and nitrogen; phosphorus, sulphur, silica, chlorine, potash, soda, magnesia, and lime.” Charley said something about lime, potash, and soda, not being “elements;” and something about silica and chlorine not being found in animals. “Yes,” said I, “and he has left out _iron_, which is an important constituent of all our farm crops and animals.” Neither the Doctor nor the Deacon heard our remarks. The Deacon, who loves an argument, exclaimed: “I thought I knew all about it. You told us that manure was the food of plants, and that the food of plants was composed of the above twelve elements; and now you tell us that man and beast, fruit and flower, grain and grass, root, stem, and branch, all are composed or made up of these same dozen elements. If I ask you what bread is made of, you say it is composed of the dozen elements aforesaid. If I ask what wheat-straw is made of, you answer, the _dozen_. If I ask what a thistle is made of, you say the dozen. There are a good many milk-weeds in my strawberry patch, and I am glad to know that the milk-weed and the strawberry are both composed of the same dozen elements. Manure is the food of plants, and the food of plants is composed of the above dozen elements, and every plant and animal that we eat is also composed of these same dozen elements, and so I suppose there is no difference between an onion and an omelet, or between bread and milk, or between mangel-wurzel and manure.” “The difference,” replied the Doctor, “is one of proportion. Mangels and manure are both composed of the same elements. In fact, mangels make good manure, and good manure makes good mangels.” The Deacon and the Doctor sat down to a game of backgammon, and Charley and I continued the conversation more seriously. CHAPTER III. SOMETHING ABOUT PLANT-FOOD. “The Doctor is in the main correct,” said I; “but he does not fully answer the question, ‘What is manure?’ To say that manure is plant-food, does not cover the whole ground. All soils on which plants grow, contain more or less plant-food. A plant can not create an atom of potash. It can not get it from the atmosphere. We find potash in the plant, and we know that it got it from the soil and we are certain, therefore, that the soil contains potash. And so of all the other mineral elements of