JAN. 2© 
THE 
BUBAL NEW-YOBKEB. 
^fairing for t|r foung. 
FARMING BOR BOYS AND GIRLS-NO. II. 
HENRY STKWAKT. 
Fertilizing the Soli. 
Although the soli la a vast storehouse of plant 
food, yet It is easily exhausted by a few years of 
poor farming. One may take a piece of the richest 
land and grow crops on It for several years with¬ 
out putting any manure on It; tout the end will be, 
sooner or later, that the crops become lighter year 
by year until they become so small that they will 
not pay the farmer to work them. This has been 
the history of thousands of farms in this country. 
The farmer has found his income too small to 
maintain his family and his children have been 
obliged to leave home, the boys to go West to work 
for their living and the girls to seek employment 
wherever they may be able. This unfortunate 
result has been due to poor farming. Thousands 
of outer farms, now rich and productive are rapid¬ 
ly approaching the same fate, and uulesa this un¬ 
wise practice Is stopped In time, many places in 
the West will become as unproductive as some 
parts of the older States now arc. And yet by 
looking at t he soil or au exhausted farm, one can¬ 
not see any difference between its present appear¬ 
ance and that when It was In Us first productive 
state. The soil Is there, no grass grows upon It, 
poor weeds and stunted bushes may alone appear 
In place of rich crops of wheat or corn, but the soil 
Itself bus not changed so far as can be seen, When 
some ot this soil, however, is taken to a chemist he 
will And that It contains no potash, no phosphoric 
acid and no nitrogen That can be taken out of it 
by steeping It In water, lie will Lett us that it Is 
deficient In soluble or avail able potash, phosphoric 
acid and nitrogen, and as plants can take up only 
such food as is soluble, they starve in the midst of 
plenty which they cannot reach. If one were to 
put a quantity of com In small bottles or tin boxes, 
and mix It with some loose corn, and give the 
whole to a flock ot fowls, they would pick out the 
loose corn until that wa.s all eaten, and then, al¬ 
though there might bo plenty ot food In the bot¬ 
tles or boxes, the fowls would go hungry and 
starve. In time, although there was plenty of food 
there; but they could not gat at It. In almost a 
similar manner the fertile elements of the soli 
are presented to the roots of plants. These pick 
out all that they can reach, and when that is con¬ 
sumed. they can get no more; although every lit¬ 
tle particle of the soil contains plenty of food for 
them, but so locked up that they cannot avail 
themselves of It. If the fowls could wait until the 
tin boxes rusted away, or If we should go among the 
glass bottles and break them up, there would be 
more food for them; so it the farmer could wait 
until the air and water wear away the surfaces of 
the particles of the soil, or if he goes with his plow 
and harrow and works the soli and breaks It up so 
as to hasten this effect of the air and water, or If 
he puts lime or ashes, or other substances which 
help to produce the same effect, he could Increase 
his crops to some extent. 
But this process would be too slow and he must 
And some better plan than that, lie is then 
obliged to fertilize ihe soli in some manner. He 
can do this lu various ways. He can avoid grow¬ 
ing one crop year after year, and growing a vari¬ 
ety of different crop3 In successive years, taking 
care that one or more of these shall leave on the 
ground a quantity of roots, or stems, or leaves, 
such as grass or clover, a sod in tact, which he 
can plow In. Then with the addition of some lime 
occasionally, ho may put. off for uany years, the 
time when the soil may be worn out. This Is one 
way of fertilizing the soil, and la known In farm 
practice as the rotation of crops. When skillfully 
applied this practice Is of great use, because as 
one crop takes less of potash or phosphoric acid 
from the soli than another, while this Is growing, 
time is given for the soli to let loose some or these 
elements and store them up for a future crop 
which needs them. Another way of improving 
the soli Is by plowing under clover which Is more 
easily grown than a grain crop, and which has 
a very beneficial influence on the soil, not only by 
adding Its own substance to It, which has been 
derived from the soil and which consists to a large 
extent or the same substances as the soil, hut It has 
a useful effect in dissolving part of the soli so that 
other plants can feed upon It. Another way of 
Improving the soli Is by feeding some of t he coarser 
portions of the crops to cattle or sheep, and by 
using the straw as Utter, and saving the dropping 
of these cattle with the soiled straw and spreading 
the whole on the land. With all these helps to¬ 
gether, viz., by growing crops In rotation, by plow¬ 
ing In a sod, by using lime occaslonaUy and by 
making and using manure, and by plowing and 
working the soil so as to cause it to dissolve as 
much as possible, the land may be kept In a fertile 
and profitable state, and the farmer can support 
himself and Uls family comfortably. This Is good 
farming', and the man who knows how to do all 
this In the best manner is a good farmer. 
If the whole or a crop of wheat, of 33 bushels, or 
one ton ot grain, and two tons of btraw, were 
burned, there would be left 249 pounds of ashes ; 
the wheat would leave 40 pounds and the straw 
200 pounds. This ash all comes from the soli and 
there would be from the wheatia pounds ot pot¬ 
ash, IS pounds of phosphoric acid ; five pounds of 
magnesia; l>$ pounds of soda and ljg pounds of 
lime; from the straw there would be 23 pounds or 
potash; six pounds of soda, five pounds of mag¬ 
nesia ; 12 pounds of llmo and 10 pounds of phos¬ 
phoric acid So that before we can grow a crop 
of 33 bushels of wheat to the acre, the soil must 
be able to furnish all this mineral matter In a 
soluble eoudlttou. Tne heat, smoke and vapor 
from the burning, would contain the nitrogen and 
carbon. The nitrogen only Is taken from tbe soli; 
the carbon lssupplied by the air, and we need take 
no care about that; but we must see that the ni¬ 
trogen la supplied, if we would have the wheat. 
There would be lu the wheat and the straw about 
60 pounds of nitrogen and this must, be In the soil, 
although all the others are there; If this Is want¬ 
ing and there is plenty of the potash and phos¬ 
phoric acid these will be of no avail, tbe wheat 
cannot grow without the nitrogen. In Tact the 
soli must contain every element needed, tor If ooe 
only be absent, the crops will not grow. So that 
for the complete fertilizing of the soil the farmer 
must not only know what each crop demands from 
It, but how he can best supply these demands, as 
well as to provide the requlslte.clements to provide 
for them. 
-- 
DAISY’S YEAR IN SOUTHERN CALI¬ 
FORNIA. 
BY ALICE P. ADAMS. 
The Arrlvnl. 
It was a pleasant afternoon In early March, and 
a boy of sixteen with a girl two or three years 
younger walled at the San Gabriel station for the 
train from Los Angeles. 
“ Dear me: It seems as If that train never <nouUl 
come. I know It's behind time. What If they 
have had an accldc-nt!" and Miss violet’s rosy 
face lengthened visibly at the bare thought. 
“ Oh fudge ! Don't be a goose, Violet Erman. 
I told you we would be too early, and in's just three 
to a second.” Bertram consulted his watch of 
which he was very proud—"no better timepiece 
In tbe world " If we do not doubt the authority of 
the owner. 
His sister was convinced, though by no means 
contented. “ Fifteen whole minutes to wait! I 
never can do It! (Uowwiil you help yourself?" 
put In Bertram, parenthetically.)’ You needn’t 
laugh now, Bert. I know I m excited, and I dont 
care. When I think of that darling Daisy Heber- 
den that I havn't seen for over three years, and 
know she's coming on this very tram, it seems as 
If I should fly !” 
" Oh I wouldQ’t, my darling,’’ said Bertram In a 
wheedling tone; " I’m afraid you would have no 
bet ter luck than the renowned Darius Green." 
*• You provoking hoy to make fun of me so I If 
that lanky John Thomas was coming you would 
be In Just as great a hurry as I am !” 
" Well, supposing I drive on a Uttle. The time 
will pass quicker, and you will have a chance to 
cool down; for you don’t want to smother the girl 
the minute she steps off the cars, and her life la 
certainly In danger from, present Indications ” 
“No, no, don't you stir a step; for the train 
might, come in, and what would^he think if none 
of us were here to meet her?” so violel fussed 
and fidgeted while the time wore away, and anal- 
most Imperceptible rumble grew louder and louder 
until the train finally swept In sight, and at last 
stopped at (he station. 
Bertram was on the platform ready to assist the 
stranger, while Violet held the ponies, What, if 
Daisy had not come after all, she thought as she 
waited In painful suspense. There was old Mr. 
Smith getting off, and two or three of the neigh¬ 
boring ranchman, and some of the winter visitors 
at the Mission, and then a pale-faced girl In an 
ulster and dark felt hat. Could that be Daisy ? 
Yes it. must be, for Bertram was talking with her; 
and he soon brought her to the impatient watcher 
who dropped the reins, jumped down without any 
assistance, and hugged her friend, regardless of 
time, place and spectators. 
“ Oh, you darling girl, 1 was so afraid that some- 
thlng had happened and you hadn’t come, it is 
rather mean in me, but I can’t help feeling glad 
that you were not very well, and I could embrace 
the doctor for advising your father to send you 
here. I don't see though, how they made up their 
minds to let you come.” violet stopped for a 
breath. 
“Mother said, at first, that she never could con¬ 
sent to my going so tar away ; hut when she found 
that I didn’t grow any Btronger after I left school, 
and I had the headache so much, she finally said 
she would agree to the plan, lithe doctor thought 
the change would help me.” 
•* 1 wish ihe rest oould come, too.” 
“ Oh, they couldn't leave home, and they never 
would have let me come If your family hadn't been 
here. You know we lived next to each other as 
long as I can remember, until you moved here, 
and mother said she would rather trust me with 
your mother than any one she knows.” 
“1 must remember to tell mamma that; she 
will consider It quite a compliment,” said violet 
smiling. “ We don’t Intend to let you be homesick 
a minute. Here comes Bert. I suppose lie has 
been to look alter > our trunk ; so let’s get In. We 
brought the wagon so that we could take your 
baggage right home.” 
The trunk and satchels were bestowed In the 
spring wagon, Bertram touched up the ponies, and 
away they trotted. “ Where did you leave Mr. 
Ford and his wife ?” he asked, referring to Daisy’s 
tiavellng eompanlODS, who weie old acquaint¬ 
ances and had taken care of her during the over¬ 
land trip. 
“ They slopped In Loa Angeles. Mr. Ford want¬ 
ed to come out here with me, but 1 told him that I 
oould come alone this Uttle way.” 
“ When did you get In town ?” asked Violet. 
“About two, I should think, for it was only a 
short time before 1 took the train for San Gabriel; 
so I have seen nothing oi the city.” 
“ Then we shall have the pleasure or showing 
you all the • lions,’ ’’said Violet. 
on trotted the ponies through the Mission—The 
Mexican village — whose strange sights made 
Daisy’s eyes open wide. 
“ Here Is the church—over a hundred years old. 
Some day when we are down for the mall we’ll go 
Inside You will have a chance to learn the Mis¬ 
sion by heart, for some or us come every day,” 
“How queer everything seems,” said Daisy. 
•• And the Mexicans look so fierce—I should think 
you would be arrald of them." 
“ Oh, dear no I” laughed Violet. “ I used to be 
when we first came here, but they seldom molest 
any one. They fight among themselves, and the 
most of them steal whenever they get a chance, 
bur. they never have any pitched battles with the 
white people." 
“ Well, Daisy, did you leave such weather as 
this at home?” asked Bertram. 
“ Indeed I did not. Tt. has been pretty cold there 
all Winter, and v. e started right In the middle of a 
raging snow storm. It seems perfectly wonderful 
to me, notwithstanding all you have written, to 
see the hills and plains so green, and the flowers 
blooming out doors. 1 can hardly believe that 
this Is ihe first day of March. It 13 more like the 
first of June!” 
•1 suppose we have become so accustomed to 
the weal her that we don't appreciate It as you do. 
But it, certainly is delightful; and I cannot see 
how you manage to exist back East with tbe 
wretched weather you have,” and Violet gave vent 
to a sigh as she considered the dolerul condition ot 
the unhappy people who dwell east of the Rocky 
Mountains. “ Y ou freeze in the Winter, and have 
sun-strokes In the Summer, and when you have a 
few really pleasant days, you are so proud of 
them.” 
“ < >h-h 1” A little scream from Daisy Interrupted 
violet's rather needless tirade. They had reached 
a long hill, and Bertram put on the brakes and let 
the ponies trot down. 
“ What is the matter?” 
“ I’m arrald to go down here so rast. Won’t the 
horses run away ?” Inquired Daisy, anxiously, 
holding fast to the seat, 
“ Why there is no danger,” said Bertram. 
"Don’t you see the brake ? When I move it for¬ 
ward with my foot see how those pieces of 
wood hold the hind wheels; and I can put it on 
so far that the wheels will be looked and can’t 
move at all.” 
“ What makes you have those old shoes on the 
blocks ot wood ?” asked Daisy, breathing easier 
now that they had reached level ground. 
" We have to put on something to protect the 
wood, for the wheels would soon cut a hole In It; 
and a cast-off shoe, minus the heel, seems to an¬ 
swer the purpose better than anything else.” 
" That's one way,” said Daisy, laughing. “ But 
I thought It hurt horses to go so fast down hill. ” 
“It don't hurt these broncos; they are tough 
as sole-leather.” 
“ What makes you call them broncos'/" asked 
Daisy. 
" That In the name given to the Mexican horse3 
to distinguish them from the American breed. Now 
that bay pony Bertram commenced a disqui¬ 
sition upon this particular bronco, which was ln- 
terurpted by violet 
•* Here's our house! Rather different from the 
one back East, isn’t It, Daisy ?’’ 
They lert the main road and drove up the ave¬ 
nue, at, the end or which stood the cottage, half 
hidden by trees and vines; and in the door, hos¬ 
pitably open, siood Mrs. Ermau, who welcomed 
Daisy with a motherly hug and kiss, saying, “ How 
glad I am to see you, dear child!”—To be con¬ 
tinued. 
-♦*--»- 
CURIOUS TREES. 
There Is a tree which grows way off on the 
Island of Madagascar, called the Traveler’s Tree, 
or, as botanists would say, it is Ravenala Mada- 
gascarlensls. But that la such a long name we 
will call It by the former. The Traveler’s Tree 
rises from the ground with a thick, succulent 
stem, and grows to the height of eighty feet or 
more. The leaves are very long and broad, some¬ 
times reaching a length of five feet, and these are 
borne on a stem or stalk from 6 to s feet long. 
These spread out In a ran shape "and present a 
very beautiful appearance. But the strangest 
tiling about this tree Is that It contains lu Its 
leaves a great quantity of water which the trav¬ 
eler over the arid regions may easily procure. 
Sometime ago, a missionary who was on the 
Island, thought he would fiee whether or not 
there was any hoax about this “ water-bearing” 
tree, so he went to a grove, and, with a spear or 
sharpened sttek pierced the lower part of one 
of the leaf-stalks, and Bure enougn, a small stream 
ot water spurted out to his great surprise, it 
was found on examination that on the inner 
side of each of the stalks there was a narrow 
channel running down Horn the baBe of the leaf 
to the body of the tree. This seemed to collect 
the water condensed from the atmosphere by the 
large, cool surface of the leaf, aud conducted it 
downwards. Thus a cooling draught is ever 
ready for the thirsty traveler though springs and 
wells are not at hand. 
The cow Tree is another curious member of 
the vegetable family, and probably receives its 
name from the fact tbat It furnishes milk much 
like a cow's. Whenever the Inhabitants ox Vene¬ 
zuela (for It Is there that this tree grows) wish a 
little milk for their tea, Instead or going out to 
the cow for It, as farmers' boys are accustomed 
to do, they take a knife or some other sharp- 
edged tool aDd make a Uttle Incision or cut, In the 
bark and from It llows a milky juice. This milk, 
unlike mostivegetable juices, Is very wholesome 
and nourishing, possessing an agreeable taste 
like that or sweet, cream, and a pleasant, balsamic 
odor, Its only unpleasant quality being a slight 
degree of stickiness. so, lu nature, man’s wants 
arc provided for lu many ways, and therein the 
wisdom of the Creator Is made manifest. 
Uncle Mark 
-- 
LETTERS FROM THE COUSINS. 
Dear Uncle Mark :— I go to school and read In 
the fourth reader. My grandpa takes the Rural, 
aDd I like to read it, especially that part contain¬ 
ing the cousins’ letters. I would like to join the 
Horticultural Club, If you will permit me. lam 
very fond of flowers, and we have quite a variety 
ol house plants, some of which are now in bloom. 
Will you please remember me when you send 
seeds? Your niece, Ida. 
Mountalu View, Passaic Co., N. J. 
Dear Uncle Mark :—1 thought I would like to 
be one of the little cousins. 1 am a little girl nine 
years old. I was born In Arizona but afterwards 
we moved to Texas Mamma takes the Rural and 
I think it Is a very nice paper and I love to read 
the Uttle cousins letters. 1 have been to school 
16 months. Papa owns a flock of sheep and I have 
seven head of my own. I would like to have 
flower seed to sow next Spring. I don’t dare to 
write much for fear my letter will go luto the 
wastebasket. Jennie Curtis. 
Fort Griffin, Texas. 
Dear Uncle Mark j— I am a little girl six years 
old last May. I cannot write so T have got mamma 
to write a few lines for me. 1 have a brother 
about nine years old, We love flowers very 
much, especially the Rural's. We wanted tna to 
write last summer so you could put us on your 
list but she did not. No more ihls time but If I 
see this in print you will hear from me again. 
Cora May Ward. 
[Will Cora please send her address. U. M ] 
jlabSiatl) |tiainnq. 
“LET THY WILL BE DONE.” 
“ Thy will be done!" Not lightly be it spoken, 
To fall like tinkling - cymbals on the air; 
Beyond all other words are these tbe token 
Of resignation conquered from despair. 
Not all who say “ Lord ! Lord!” can tell what measure 
Of heavy cost it takes their depth to learn; 
WhatlogH of ease, what sacrifice of treasure, 
What exile, out of which is no return. 
He who lias proved this saying - bears the traces 
Of furnace-tires that spare tbe gold ulane; 
His conversation is in Heavenly places; 
His life is lived as God’s, aud not his own! 
His soul in restful patience be possesses. 
Nor sighs for hopes tbat vanish unfulfilled, 
As one who meets with loss, yet still caresses 
Regretful dreams with spirit half self-willed. 
No more in things of time his heart is centered, 
For he has seen their proeiousnoss decrease; 
Has weighed the world, and proved it void, and en¬ 
tered 
The Upper chamber of abiding peace. 
' Thy will be done !” O ! utterance magnetic ! 
That thrills anew the soul's diviner chord, 
With deep compassion for that woe prophetic 
Which filled tbe anguished chalice of our Lord. 
Behold in that sublime self-abnegation, 
What lowly path the Man of .Sorrows trod 
Aud know that out of thy humiliation 
Shall know the grace to stand before thy God. 
Then not witli Jip irreverent bo spoken 
The hallowud words of God's all-suffering Son ; 
But say with contrite heart and spirit broken. 
Through loss, through sorrow, ” Let Thy wifi be 
done!” —Frances E. Pope, in Advance. 
- - 
"NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE.” 
This language was the heart-utterance of Mrs. 
Sarah Flower Adams, who was born In Cambridge, 
England, In February, 18i)5, and whose history has 
been but very slightly known to the great public, 
who have cherished her hymns as one ot the most 
sacred treasures for nearly half a century. Her 
father was the editor of a weekly Cambridge pa¬ 
per. Her mother was a woman of fine gifts and 
culLure, and she herself was the youngest child. 
She was noted in early life for the taste she mani¬ 
fested In Uterature, aud lu maturer years for great 
zeal and earnestness lu her religious life. She con¬ 
tributed prose and verso to the periodicals of the 
day, and her art criticisms were valued. Married 
at an early age, aud of frail constitution, she still, 
amid many bodily sufferings, kept her pen busy, her 
thoughts and writings always tending upwards. 
At what time and amid what circumstances she 
caught the inspiration from which evolved that 
wonderful hy mu which has since echoed round and 
round the globe. Is not.)kuown; butlt was probably 
during some period of peculiar trial, when her spirit 
was upliued through sorrow almost above its 
earthly body. She Uttle dreamed that her hymn, 
like those of Toplady, Charlotte Elliot and Ray 
Palmer, would be hoard through the- ages. 
it was first published In 1641, in a volume of sa¬ 
cred lyrics Issued by Mr. Fox, of England, Just 
eight, years before the death ot t.he gifted author¬ 
ess, who only lived to the ugc of 44, and thus never 
knew the fame which was to aitaeb to her hymn 
and her name. The hymn soon began to appear 
lu various collections, and was everywhere receiv¬ 
ed with delight, it was given the tune “ Bethany,” 
which became very popular la this country. 
Everybody who has grown up in a Christian land 
kuows It by heart, aud In many countries which 
do not float the .banner of Christ, It Is almost 
equally familiar. 
"Last year,” says Dr. C'ulyer, In his "Heart 
Life," ” Professors Smith, lllthcock and Park, as 
they wound their way down the foot-hills of Mount 
Lebanon, came In sight ot a group of fifty Si rlan 
students, standing In a Une, singing la chorus. 
They were the students of the new * college of 
Beirut’ at Ableh, aud they were singing In Arabic 
to the tune ot 1 Bethany.’ As the procession drew 
near they caught the sublime words; 
“ • Nearer, my God, to time ! 
Nearer to thee: 
E’en though it he a cross 
That raiseth hie, 
Still oil my song shall be, 
Nearer, my God, to thee, 
Nearer, my God, to thee, 
Nearer to thee.' 
‘“lam not much given to the weeping mood,’ 
said Professor Hitchcock, when describing the 
thrilling scene; ‘ but, when we rode through the 
ranks of those Syrian youths, I confess that my 
eyes were a Uttle damp.' 
“If tt be permitted to the departed people of 
God,” continues Dr. culyer, “ to witness the t rans¬ 
actions at earth wo may imagine with what rap¬ 
ture the glorified spirit, ot Harah Flower Adams 
heard her hearl-song thus ohauled in the land of 
sacred story.”—Boatou Musical Herald. 
