No. 7. DEPARTMENT OF AGRICULTURE. 617 



and it cost him about forty dollars an acre, too. It cost him a lot 

 because he did not understand about innoculatiou. He had seen the 

 alfalfa in South America, while sailing to San Francisco. Then he 

 got more seed and tried again and failed and then he sent to South 

 America for seed, and tried it again and by that time the soil was in- 

 oculated, and he succeeded. Then he got more land, then more cattle, 

 then more land, until he has become a rich man ; but I can't stop to 

 tell you of the 100,000 head of cattle that Henry Miller has, all be- 

 cause he planted alfalfa. 



I went west in 1876, not intending to farm it, but intending per- 

 haps to be president, or maybe governor at least, or something of 

 that kind, but the first thing I knew I found myself working on a cat- 

 tle ranch in Utah. We had no alfalfa there then, and not for a few 

 years afterwards, unless it happened to grow there. I think I 

 brought it to that ranch first. But before I went there, I was in 

 Salt Lake City, and walking up street one day I saw a load of 

 green hay, and I stopped and looked at it, and wondered what it was, 

 it was so nice and green. I went over and looked at it, and it smell- 

 ed just as nice as it looked. So I tasted it, and I said to myself. ''It 

 is good.'' Taste it, gentlemen, and see for yourselves, and if it is 

 not good I will give you some more. My rule is to taste the feed 

 I give my animals, and if it does not taste good for me, it will 

 not taste good for them. I said, "That hay is all right and if I don't 

 get work for awhile, I can always go out and buy a load of this hay 

 and live on that till I get something to do." 



Well, after awhile we got some alfalfa, and tried it on the ranch, 

 and the cattle chewed it like a hired man chewing tobacco, and they 

 maintained their flesh on it all winter, and thrived on it in summer, 

 and before long we were feeding all our animals on it. And all the 

 time I was dreaming of my father's little old farm of 196 acres down 

 in Ohio. It was not very much of a farm, and it was not very profit- 

 able, but I loved it; it was my home; and nights and some days I 

 would lie dreaming of it, and the old folks — a place so different from 

 that big ranch. And after awhile I began to wonder whether alfalfa 

 would not grow there, and I sent my father about a pound of seed, 

 and he sowed it. AJter a while I went back home on a little visit, 

 and as soon as I had seen my father and mother, and my sweetheart, 

 I wanted to see that alfalfa. I asked father where it was, and he 

 told me it was out behind the barn, but he told me it was no good; 

 it might do in the West, but it would not do he^. So I went out and 

 looked at it, and it was only about six inches high. Father said, 

 ''You see I am right; it may do in the W>st, but it will not grow 

 here." But I began to hang round; that is a way I have — to hang 

 round until I either succeed or know v/hy I don't. I am not sure 

 that is a bad trait, either. W^ell, pretty soon I saw the chickens 

 come round there and pick at it, and I said to myself, "Ah, now I see 

 why it don't grow any higher." Then I began to think that what 

 it needed was irrigation, so I carried some water from the well, and 

 watered that little patch, and then I took an old barrel which had 

 one end in, and knocked the other end in, too, and set it over that 

 alfalfa to see what it would do if given a chance, and went off to see 

 my sweetheart, and forgot all about it for a while. When I thought 

 of it again, and went to look at it, it had grown up through the top 

 of that barrel. I called father and showed it to him; he scratched 

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