IJ: ALFALFA FARMING IN AMERICA. 



with diligence, he asked the old man: "Father, 

 where is my alfalfa? Did you plant that seed that 

 I sent yonf " "Why, yes, I planted it, but it did not 

 amount to anything. This is no country for alfalfa. 

 It may do for you in the West, but it is of no use 

 here ; but come and see it, what there is of it. ' ' Back 

 of the garden the old man had spaded a square rod 

 of good clay soil and sowed his seed. He led the 

 way and pointed accusingly to the stunted little 

 plants scattered thinly over the ground: "There, 

 don't you see that this thing is no good for Ohio?" 



The boy stood in amazement looking at it, so dif- 

 ferent from what he had fondly hoped it might be. 

 His father turned away and left him, but still he 

 stood studying the situation. Soon happened along 

 a flock 'of his mother's fowls; they came to the 

 alfalfa patch and began an eager search for leaves ; 

 one by one they plucked them off till nearly ever\" 

 plant was stripped bare, then walked away. ' ' Aha ! ' ' 

 cried the boy; "I see a light now," and he -went to 

 the well and pumped a tub full of water, which he 

 carried and emptied carefully down by the strongest 

 root that he could find. It was early August and 

 the land was dry. To keep away the chickens he 

 to'ok an old barrel, knocked the heads -out of it and 

 put it over his alfalfa plant. In a little more than 

 three weeks he was ready to go back to his work on 

 the ranch and he went to say good bye to his alfalfa 

 patch. To his delight the stalk of alfalfa had 

 thrived for its wetting and its protection and had 

 grown out through the top of the barrel! Joyfully 



