22 An American Fruit-Farm 



wheat. One of the startling revelations to the 

 graduate of the agriciiltural college, and of col- 

 leges in general, is the big crop which the man of 

 the diploma does not raise and the steady crop the 

 unlettered fruit-grower always raises. This does 

 not count against the college but for the unlettered 

 farmer. He reads books in grapevines, sermons 

 in cherry stones, and crops in everything. He 

 cannot give scientific names to root-worm or 

 brown-rot, but he can exterminate them by spray- 

 ing at the right moment. He never thinks of the 

 chemical properties of the soil beneath his feet, 

 but it is as loose as ashes and filled with humus. 

 His regular and heavy harvests tempt you to dis- 

 parage his college-bred neighbor who takes samples 

 of the earth, fills bottles with queer liquids, makes 

 tests, and tells you that the land lacks nitrogen. 

 "Too much sorrel,*' remarks the unlettered neigh- 

 bor. "The land is sour; sow clover, soybeans, or, 

 best of all, cover it deep with barnyard manure. 

 That is what is the matter with your land.** Both 

 tell the truth, and each by his own tests and through 

 his own formula. Shall we dispraise either fruit- 

 grower, him who knows the chemistry of the land 

 or him who knows the meaning of sorrel? Each 

 acts up to his knowledge and sorrel was grow- 

 ing before chemical laboratories were endowed. 

 Practically, one is as wise as the other. But 

 there is a difference. The fruit-grower, who also 

 is a soil-chemist, saves, conserves time. Knowl- 

 edge is a short-cut to the flour barrel, as well as a 



