230 An American Fruit-Farm 



were wrenched from the earth by explosives. The 

 ashes I scattered about and plowed the new land 

 and subdued it by cultivation. What a wonderful 

 crop that virgin year! Then the vines were set 

 and the primeval forest of yesterday became the 

 dark, dank, glossy vineyard bearing many tons of 

 purple grapes. Twenty years have passed. Now 

 it is half the tonnage. Have I robbed the soil? 

 Tons of plant-food have I spread upon it ; carefully 

 has it been tended, yet that virgin gift of the 

 purple grapes can never be made again. Fifty 

 years hence what shall the harvest be? Is the soil 

 depleting? The cornfields of the pioneers became 

 the vineyards of to-day. Those that remain no 

 longer bear their first weight of purple fruit. The 

 vineyards were torn away and orchards were 

 planted in their stead. No longer do the trees 

 bear their youthful weight of fruit, or withstand 

 the onslaught of their enemies, fungi and insects; 

 as the years pass, these enemies multiply. And 

 the history of the Valley is doubtless like that 

 of other valleys. 



You will hear it said in the Fruit Valley: '*My 

 grandfather cotild raise peaches without spraying 

 the trees*'; but the enemies of those pioneer trees 

 are forgotten. We know that had the Valley then 

 been filled with peaches, it was so far from the world 

 they could not have reached it before they spoiled. 

 Sufficient unto each generation are the enemies 

 of its flocks and herds, its orchards and vineyards. 

 Yet, despite the fall in production as time passes, 



