236 MY FARM. 



by the confused roar of artillery, will pompously 

 threaten to bag every man of the enemy ! 



But aside from the exaggeration alluded to, and 

 of which I should reckon so minute a soil-analysis 

 as to determine whau ground would most favor the 

 development of pectw in a baking pear, and ofpectic 

 acid in a Bartlett, a fair sample, there are other 

 hindrances to the effective and profitable co-labora, 

 tion of scientific men \vith the practical farmer. The 

 latter has a wall about him of self-confidence, igno 

 rance of technicals, great common-sense, and awkward 

 prejudices, which the scientific man, with his preci 

 sion, his fineness of observation, his remote analogies, 

 and his impatience of guess-work, is not accustomed 

 or fitted to undermine. He may breach indeed suc 

 cessfully all* the old methods, but if the old methodist 

 does not detect, or recognize the breach, what boots 

 it ? Science must stoop to the work, and show him 

 a corn crop that is larger and grown more cheaply 

 than his own ; this is sending a shot home. 



Let me illustrate, by a little talk, which I think 

 will have the twang of realism about it. 



A shrewd chemist, devoting himself to the mis 

 sionary work of building up farming by the aid of 

 his science, pays a parochial visit to one of the back- 

 sliders whom he counts most needful of reformation. 

 The backslider, I will call him Nathan, is breaking 



