By H. ALISON WEBSTER.
The sexuality of plants has been known from the time of Camerarius, 1691;
and yet, what farmer looks to the strains of the seeds he plants? How
many farmers buy their seed corn in the ear? The fact that like begets
like should never be overlooked.
* * * * *
Nature’s secrets, to a great extent, have been revealed, but if the
practical man be not acquainted with the things revealed, to what avail
their revelations? Until teacher and practical farmer are congenial in
the full sense of the word, the power of the soil will remain unknown.
* * * * *
Plants drink and do not eat: therefore, Nature, although robbed by man
of many methods, and now needing man’s assistance, still provides means
of converting insoluble elements into drinkable or water-soluble foods.
All insoluble foods brought to the surface by plowing are decomposed by
freezes, frosts and snows, and are acted upon by carbonic acid, other
acids, oxygen and carbonate of lime. Again, if the soil be properly
conditioned rains will carry the acids, oxygen and lime down below the
surface to accomplish the same end. After the end is accomplished, the
soluble foods are brought back to the plants by capillary attraction.
Humus should be in the soil to hold the moisture or foods coming from
above and below.
* * * * *
System breeds success, neglected details, failure.
* * * * *
Farming needs brains as well as brawn; furthermore, it offers far greater
opportunities for brains than do the overcrowded professions of the
cities.
* * * * *
Buy for cash, and you will get more and need less.
* * * * *
We are known by our faults and judged by the errors we make.
[Illustration]
Wouldst Thou Succeed?
Wouldst thou succeed? Then master each detail,
Hold them in hand as reinsmen hold their steeds,
Firmly, yet urge them on. Let no false needs
Slip up on right or left and make bewail.
Onward—drive them yet onward, and prevail
Ere Doubt shall sow her hesitating seeds
To flower in Failure rank or other breeds
Of Mishap, Chance and Ill-luck that assails.
Wouldst thou succeed? Finish the work in hand
Nor dabble here and there while Time goes on
And naught is done—and one by one the sand
Of moment, turns to heaps of hours gone.
Finish—Finish—at the dawn of light
’Twas stamped in stars across the perfect night.