“Quite fairly so,” Percy replied. “The plant food content of the plowed soil of an acre of normal land means nearly, if not quite, as much in the making of definite plans for a system of permanent agriculture, as the merchant’s invoice means in the future plans of his business.
“It should not be assumed that the analysis of the soil will give information the application of which will always assure an abundant crop the following season. In comparison, it may also be said, however, that the merchant’s invoice of January the first may have no relation to the sales from his store on January the second. Now, the year with the farmer is as a day with the merchant. The farmer harvests his crop but once a year; while the merchant plants and harvests every day, or at least every week. But I would say that the invoice of the soil is worth as much to the farmer for the next year as the merchant’s invoice is to him for the next month.
“It should be remembered, however, that both must look forward, and plans must be made by the merchant for several months, and by the farmer for several years. Your twelve-year rotation is a very good example of the kind of future planning the successful farmer must do. On the other hand, some of your neighbors, who have not practiced some such system of rotation now have ‘old-field’ pine on land long since abandoned, and soil too poor to cultivate on land long cropped continuously.”
“This is a kind soil,” remarked Mr. West, as he paused on a gently undulating part of the field.
“That is a new use of the word to me,” said Percy. “Just what do you mean by a ‘kind’ soil?”
“Well, if we apply manure here it will show in the crop for many years. It is easy to build this soil up with manure; but, of course, we have too little to treat it right.”
“The soil is almost neutral,” said Percy, testing with litmus and acid. “Does clover grow on this soil?”
“Very little, except where we put manure.”
Another composite sample of the soil was collected, and they walked on.
“Now, here,” said Mr. West, “is about the most productive upland on the farm.”
“Is that possible?” asked Percy, the question being directed more to himself than to his host.
“That is according to my observation for about fifty years,” he replied. “Where we spread the farm fertilizer over this old pasture land and plow it under for corn, we often harvest a crop of eight barrels to the acre, while the average of the field will not be more than five barrels.—A barrel of corn with us is five bushels.”
They had stopped on one of the steepest slopes in the field.
“These hillsides would be considered the poorest land on the farm if we were in the corn belt,” said Percy, “but I think I understand the difference. Your level uplands when once depleted remain depleted, because the soil that was plowed two hundred years ago is the same soil that is plowed to-day; but these slopes lose surface soil by erosion at least as rapidly as the mineral plant food is removed by cropping; and to that extent they afford the conditions for a permanent system of agriculture of low grade, unless, of course, the erosion is more rapid than the disintegration of the underlying bed rock, which I note is showing in some outcrops in the gullies.