This etext was produced by Steve Solomon (ssolomon@soilandhealth.org).
From the Basis Of Absolute Science and Real Life
Author of "Soil Fertility and Permanent Agriculture"
1911
Truth is better than fiction; and this true story of the soil iswritten in co-operation with the Press of America and in competitionwith popular fiction.
The scenes described exist; the references given can all be foundand verified; and the data quoted are exact, although some of thestory dates antedate the scientific data.
As a rule the names employed are substitutes, but the generallocalities are as specified.
If the Story of the Soil should ever fall into the hands of anyindividual who suspects that he has contributed to its information,the author begs that he will accept as belonging to himself everygracious attribute and take it for granted that anything of oppositesavor was due to autosuggestion.
University of Illinois, Urbana.
PERCY JOHNSTON stood waiting on the broad veranda of an old-styleSouthern home, on a bright November day in 1903. He had just comefrom Blue Mound Station, three miles away, with suit-case in hand.
"Would it be possible for me to secure room and board here for a fewdays?" he inquired of the elderly woman who answered his knock.
"Would it be possible?" she repeated, apparently asking herself thequestion, while she scanned the face of her visitor with kindly eyesthat seemed to look beneath the surface.
"I beg your pardon, my name is Johnston,—Percy Johnston—" he saidwith some embarrassment and hesitation, realizing from her speechand manner that he was not addressing a servant.
"No pardon is needed for that name," she interrupted; "Johnston is aname we're mighty proud of here in the South."
"But I am from the West," he said.
"We're proud of the West, too; and you should feel right welcomehere, for this is 'Westover,'" waving her hand toward the inroadfields surrounding the old mansion house. "I am Mrs. West, or atleast I used to be. Perhaps the title better belongs to my son'swife at the present time; while I am mother, grandma, andgreat-grandmother.
"Yes, Sir, you will be very welcome to share our home for a few daysif you wish; and we'll take you as a boarder. We used to entertainmy husband's friends from Richmond,—and from Washington, too,before the sixties; but since then we have grown poor, and of lateyears we take some summer boarders. They have all returned to thecity, however, the last of them having left only yesterday; so youcan have as many rooms as you like.
"Adelaide!" she called.
A rugged girl of seventeen entered the hall from a rear room.
"This is my granddaughter, Adelaide, Mr. Johnston."
Percy looked into her eyes for an instant; then her lashes dropped.He remembered afterward that they were like her grandmother's, andhe found himself repeating, "The eye is the window of the soul."
"My Dear, will you ask Wilkes to show Mr. Johnston to the southwestroom, and to put a fire in the grate and warm water in the pitche