This section is from "The Horticulturist, And Journal Of Rural Art And Rural Taste", by P. Barry, A. J. Downing, J. Jay Smith, Peter B. Mead, F. W. Woodward, Henry T. Williams. Also available from Amazon: Horticulturist and Journal of Rural Art and Rural Taste.
The present Governor of Massachusetts, in his proclamation for thanksgiving, suggests as an occasion for public gratitude, " the increased attention given to agriculture;" and perhaps there is no change in public sentiment of recent date, more worthy of notice than the fact to which he refers. That it is a fact, will not be doubted by any careful observer. Agriculture in England, and on the continent of Europe, has long been regarded as of the very first importance. It is a leading, if not the leading subject of conversation there, among gentlemen in the higher circles of society. And well it may be so, as the wealth of the nobility, the prosperity of the middle classes, and the salvation from starvation of the laborers, are plainly seen to depend upon the crop. In Ireland, if one potato crop fails, thousands of the population, perhaps, die of starvation. In America, if our potatoes fail, we merely change our diet for the time, and live just as well upon corn.
But although the fear of actual starvation does not affect us, the fact is, that agricul-ture, as his Excellency the Governor suggests, is getting to be quite the fashion throughout the country. Farmers' clubs are taking the place of caucuses, and cattle shows of military musters. Every man who has land, is endeavoring to raise a premium crop, and they who are landless, are trying to keep up with the times, and serve their country with pen and ink, and such other agricultural implements as they may have at hand. Not long ago, I met an itinerant lecturer who was traversing the country, " astonishing the natives" with his learned talk about silex, alumina, and divers other.
" Latin names for horns and stoves," and discoursing most eruditely before the public on agricultural chemistry. He said he sometimes lectured on animal magnetism - that he was familiar with "all those subjects/' but that nothing paid quite so well just now as agriculture! He had fortified himself with a full set of Professor Mapes' Working Farmer, and other " good works," and with abundance of assurance instead of " faith," to match, was warmly advocating the expediency of working the land at least three feet deep, in a neighborhood where it would be a fair forenoon's work, to get a churn-drill to that depth!
However, he judged wisely what topic would most interest the people, and how he could best get their money. And now, while there is an interest so deep and universal on this subject, while not only men of true science are diffusing valuable knowledge through the land, but while quacks and charletans are endangering the safety of the cause by the careless use of other men's thunder, it may be interesting to inqure what is reasonably to be expected of science applied to the culture of the earth, of which so much is said and written.
From the remarks of some writers, it might be inferred that agricultural science, and especially agricultural chemistry, is to make plain all the hidden things of creation; that by its light we shall discern all the peculiar properties and components of every plant, from the " hyssop on the wall" to the " Cedar of Lebanon;" that we shall so perfectly comprehend its structure, that we shall, by-and-by, be able to collect the materials and build a plant, as we do a plow or cart.
It is true, science may do much for agriculture. She may lead to improvements, as she is constantly doing, unattainable without her aid. She may analyze the crop growing upon our field, tell us accurately every element of which the plant, at each stage of progress from blade to flower, from flower to fruit, is constituted. She may analyse the soil, and ascertain with precision its elements, and so inform us how far it may supply the requi site food for the desired product. She may catch the falling rains and dews of heaven, and in her crucibles, resolving them to their primary principles, make them disclose how far they may be expected to contribute to the growth of leaf and stem, and flower and seed. She may even take captive the winds, and learning of what their balmy breath is made, estimate with tolerable accuracy their influence upon vegetation. She may make analyses of the various substances used by the former as manures, and see in which of them may be detected those constituents of vegetable growth which are most abundantly supplied by the earth, the water and the air, and so direct him to the most economical expenditure of his treasures.
Science may explain to us the effects, both chemical and mechanical, of draining and deep plowing - how by these operations the elements of fertility are drawn from " the heavens above and the earth beneath" - how the roots of the plant are thus enabled to traverse far and wide, selecting such aliments as its peculiar structure may require. She tells us how, by judicious amendment of the soil, as by adding sand to clay, we may render it more open to the action of the sun, more permeable by the dews and rains - or how, as by adding clay to sand, it may be made more compact, and more retentive of water and manures.
, Science may teach us the history of domestic animals, their varieties and qualities. She may give us the results of careful observations for centuries, upon the effects of crossing upon the different breeds, and so inform us how far we may reasonably expect the transmission of peculiar traits, moral or physical, from one generation to another. She may teach us the history of birds - how industriously they co-operate with the husbandman in the destruction of myriads of insects, which, but for their aid, would over run his fields, and devour his harvests, thus teaching him to regard their song with pleasure, their presence as a blessing, instead of waging against them, as he did in less enlightened days, a cruel war of extermination. She tells us how the wood-pecker, formerly regarded as a deadly enemy of the orchard, guided by an instinct alike unerring and wonderful, strikes her sharp beak through the bark, and drags with her barbed tongue, from his concealment, some worm which is slowly working his destructive way beneath.
 
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