And so in describing John Johnston’s method of managing manure, this fact must be borne in mind. It might not pay the Deacon to spend much labor on manure worth only ninety-seven cents a ton, while it might pay John Johnston to bestow some considerable time and labor on manure worth $2.97 per ton.

“But is it really worth this sum?” asked the Deacon.

“In reply to that,” said I, “all I claim is that the figures are comparative. If your manure, made as above described, is worth ninety-seven cents a ton in the yard, then John Johnston’s manure, made as stated, is certainly worth, at least, $2.97 per ton in the yard.”

Of this there can be no doubt.

“If you think,” I continued, “your manure, so made, is worth only half as much as Mr. Lawes’ estimate; in other words, if your ten tons of manure, instead of being worth $14.69 in the field, is worth only $7.35; then John Johnston’s ten tons of manure, instead of being worth $34.72 in the field, is worth only $17.36.”

“That looks a little more reasonable,” said the Deacon, “John Johnston’s manure, instead of being worth $2.97 per ton in the yard, is worth only $1.48 per ton, and mine, instead of being worth ninety-seven cents a ton, is worth forty-eight and a half cents a ton.”

The Deacon sat for a few minutes looking at these figures. “They do not seem so extravagantly high as I thought them at first,” he said, “and if you will reduce the figures in Mr. Lawes’ table one-half all through, it will be much nearer the truth. I think my manure is worth forty-eight and a half cents a ton in the yard, and if your figures are correct, I suppose I must admit that John Johnston’s manure is worth $1.48 per ton in the yard.”

I was very glad to get such an admission from the Deacon. He did not see that he had made a mistake in the figures, and so I got him to go over the calculation again.

“You take a pencil, Deacon,” said I, “and write down the figures:

Manure from a ton of oil-cake$19.72
Manure from a ton of clover-hay9.64
Manure from two tons of straw5.36
$34.72