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.