Mr. Cobbett[4] is now farming about nine miles from this place. His people (it is said) could not bear the opprobrious name servant, and, with the exception of one person, left him.[5]
The fishermen here drag ashore many fishes in their seines. Without other evidence than the vast quantities of smaller ones left on the shore, the abundant supply of the New York market might be inferred. I bathe twice a-day, on the spot where General Howe first effected the landing of his army.[6] A farmer very obligingly gives me the key of his fishing house on the beach, that I may dress and undress in it. The farmers here catch great quantities of fish, with which they manure their land.
There are still a considerable number of slaves in Long Island; they are treated with a degree of {13} humanity that slaves in some other parts of the world never experience; they are well fed, and the whip is very seldom resorted to. Notwithstanding their comparative advantages, they detest the unnatural yoke, and frequently run off. It often happens that the master neither pursues nor inquires after the fugitive. What becomes of the self-emancipated is not here well understood. I have heard that many of them get to Boston, or some other of the northern ports, from whence they are carried to the Southern States, sold, and placed under a harsher treatment.
A great part of the slaves of the State of New York are to be emancipated in the year 1827.[7] It is difficult to predict the consequences of this liberation. It is to be feared that people who have been compelled to work, will, of their own choice, become banditti, rather than adopt industrious habits. Arrangements must necessarily be made before the arrival of this revolution; but many satisfy themselves by saying, that the legislature will devise some plan that will enable them to get over the difficulty. Some suggest that the Negroes shall be returned to Africa. On this measure, the African Association, so much talked of in America, proceeds.[8] The expense of transporting, settling, supporting, and governing a new colony, must be immense. The design is as benevolent as the difficulties to be encountered are great. The support it meets with in slave-keeping states, looks like a pledge of sincerity, and an omen that forebodes success to the undertaking.
{14} The project of removing blacks to the back-woods of America seems to be altogether objectionable. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to prevent their return from exile; their previous habits and disposition render them ill-calculated to the work of subduing the forests. Besides, they would commit depredations on the neighboring settlers, and on the Indian people.
Long Island being composed of alluvial soil, surrounded by a high beach, its surface is necessarily what is called a table land: for the most part the surface is somewhat flat, the soil is dry, and at this season, without streams of water. Near the surface I have observed a substratum that is intermixed with clay. If a part of this was raised above the ground, it would be made to approach to a loam, more productive, and less liable to be injured by drought, than the present sandy coating that covers the surface. A trenching, performed by the spade or by the plough, would no doubt produce the good effect.
A labourer in Long Island receives half a dollar a-day, with his board, and a dollar in harvest.
The weather, which is said to be hotter at present than it has been for several years, begins to scorch the surface of the ground. The stubble from which the hay has recently been removed, retains the appearance of a newly mown field; pasture grass is withering. In some fields a rank crop of weeds continues green; amongst these the cattle are straying nearly two feet deep, but are in reality almost starving; water is drawn from deep wells, and served out to them in rather too small quantities. The cows are small, as may be expected. Good crops of wheat, rye, and Indian corn, are raised. These require manure. Indian corn is considered a good crop, when at the rate {15} of 40 bushels per acre. Oats do not ripen well from the excessive heat, and are used only for the feed of horses. Potatoes are small; their tops grow high and slender, as when shaded by trees in your country; their leaves are small and shrivelled. The greatest luxuriance to be met with in Long Island is in the orchards, the branches of apple and pear trees are bent down, and not unfrequently broken by the weight of the fruit. Peach trees were lately productive, but are now falling into decay. I have met with no one able to assign the cause. The woods are thriving, but few of the trees are large; they are evidently a new growth, and not contemporary with the thick trunks that opposed the first settlers. The owners frequently spare their own timber, and purchase from other parts of the State, or from New Jersey. In consequence of paying for timber and carriage, building in Long Island is rendered more expensive than in more late settlements.
It is not easy to state the price of land in Long Island, as much of it has descended from father to son, from the first settlement; and sales have been rare. A farm within ten miles of New York would perhaps sell at 140 or 150 dollars (from L.31, 10s. to L.33, 15s.) per acre. The practice of renting land is by shares, the occupier paying to the proprietor one half of the actual price of the produce, the former bearing the risk and trouble of collecting the money.
The fences are of wood. The figure is a representation of the railing commonly adopted here.