Among the subjects which of late years have engaged much of the attention of agriculturists in England, few are more important than that of tile draining. This most efficient and successful mode of draining is getting into very extensive use. Much of the soil of England, as I have already stated, rests on a clayey and retentive subsoil. Excessive wetness is prejudicial and destructive to the crops. Marginal drains, or drains on the outside of the fields, do not produce the desired results. These tile-drains have effected most important improvements. The tile itself is made of clay, baked like bricks; it is about one foot in length, four inches in width, three fourths of an inch in thickness, and it stands from six to eight inches in height, being hemispherical, or like the half of a cylinder, with its sides elongated. It somewhat resembles the Dutch tiles which are seen 451 on the roofs of the old houses in Albany and New York. A ditch is sunk, eighteen or twenty inches in depth, and these drains are multiplied over a field, sometimes at a distance of only seven yards apart. The ditch or drain being dug, these tiles are laid down, with the hollow side at bottom, on the smooth clay, or any other firm subsoil, the sides placed near to each other, some little straw thrown over the joints to prevent the admission of dirt, and the whole covered up. This is not so expensive a mode of draining as might be supposed. The ditch or drain need only be narrow, and tiles are of much cheaper transportation than stone would be. But the result is so important as well to justify the expense. It is estimated that this thorough draining adds often twenty per cent. to the production of the wheat crop. A beautiful example came under my observation in Nottinghamshire, not long before I left England. A gentleman was showing me his grounds for next year’s crop of wheat. On one side of the lane, where the land had been drained, the wheat was already up and growing luxuriantly; on the other, where the land was subject to no other disadvantage than that it had not been drained, it was still too wet to be sowed at all. It may be thought singular enough, but it is doubtless true, that, on stiff, clayey lands, thorough draining is as useful in dry, hot summers as in cold and wet summers; for such land, if a wet winter or spring be suddenly followed by hot and dry weather, is apt to become hard and baked, so that the roots of plants cannot enter it. Thorough draining, by giving an opportunity to the water on the surface to be constantly escaping, corrects this evil. Draining can never be needed to so great an extent in Massachusetts as in England and Scotland, from the different nature of the soil; but we have yet quantities of low meadow lands, producing wild, harsh, sour grasses, or producing nothing, which, there is little doubt, might be rendered most profitable hay-fields, by being well drained. When we understand better the importance of concentrating labor, instead of scattering it,—when we shall come to estimate duly the superior profit of “a little farm, well tilled,” over a great farm, half cultivated and half manured, overrun with weeds, and scourged with exhausting crops,—we shall then fill our barns, and double the winter fodder for our cattle and sheep by the products of these waste meadows.
There is in England another mode of improvement, most important, instances of which I have seen, and one of which I regard as the most beautiful agricultural improvement which has ever come under my observation. I mean irrigation, or the making of what are called water meadows. I first saw them in Wiltshire, and was much struck with them, not having before understood, from reading or conversation, exactly what they were. But I afterwards had an opportunity of examining a most signal and successful example of this mode of improvement, on the estates of the Duke of Portland, in the North of England, on the borders of Sherwood forest. Indeed, it was part of the old forest known by that name. Sherwood forest, at least in its present state, is not like the pine forests of Maine, the heavy, hard wood forests of the unredeemed lands of New Hampshire and Vermont, or the still heavier timbered lands of the West. It embraces a large extent of country, with various soils, some of them thin and light, with beautiful and venerable oaks, of unknown age, much open ground between them and underneath their wide-spread branches, and this covered with heather, lichens, and fern. Sherwood forest, indeed, is not less interesting for the natural beauty which charms the eye, than for its venerable antiquity and historical associations. But in many parts the soil is far enough from being rich. Upon the borders of this forest are the water meadows of which I am speaking. A little river runs through the forest in this part, at the bottom of a valley with sides moderately sloping, and of considerable extent, between the river at the bottom and the common level of the surrounding country above. This little river, before reaching the place, runs through a small town, and gathers, doubtless, some refuse matter in its course. From this river, the water is taken at the upper end of the valley, conducted along the edge, or bank, in a canal or carrier, and from this carrier, at proper times, suffered to flow out very gently, spreading over and irrigating the whole surface, trickling and shining, when I saw it, (and it was then November,) among the light-green of the new-springing grass, and collected below in another canal, from which it is again let out, to flow in like manner over land lying still farther down towards the bottom of the valley. Ten years ago, this land, for production, was worth little or nothing. I was told that some of it 453 had been let, for no more than a shilling an acre. It has not been manured, and yet is now most extensively productive. It is not flooded; the water does not stand upon it; it flows gently over, and is applied several times in a year to each part, say in March, May, July, and October. In November, when I saw it, the farmers were taking off the third crop of hay cut this season, and that crop was certainly not less than two tons to the acre. This last crop is mostly used as green food for cattle. When I speak of the number of tons, I mean tons of dried hay. After this crop was off, sheep were to be put on it, to have lambs at Christmas, so as to come into market in March, a time of year when they command a high price. Upon taking off the sheep in March, the land would be watered. The process of watering lasts two or three days, or perhaps eight or ten days, according to circumstances, and is repeated after the taking off of each successive crop. Although this water has no doubt considerable sediment in it, yet the general fact shows how important water itself is to the growth of plants, and how far, even, it may supply the place of other sources of sustenance. Now we in Massachusetts have a more uneven surface, more valleys with sloping sides, by many times more streams, and such a climate that our farms suffer much oftener from drought than farms in England. May we not learn something useful, therefore, from such examples of irrigation in that country?
With respect to implements of husbandry, I am of opinion that the English, upon the whole, have no advantage over us. Their wagons and carts are no better; their ploughs, I thought, not better anywhere, and in some counties far inferior, because unnecessarily heavy. The subsoil plough, for which we have little use, is esteemed a useful invention, and the mole plough, which I have seen in operation, and the use of which is to make an underground drain, without disturbing the surface, is an ingenious contrivance, likely to be useful in clay soils, free from stone and gravel, but which can be little used in Massachusetts. In general, the English utensils of husbandry seemed to me unnecessarily cumbrous and heavy. The ploughs, especially, require a great strength of draught. But as drill husbandry is extensively practised in England, and very little with us, the various implements, or machines, for drill-sowing in that country quite surpass all we have. I do not remember 454 to have seen the horse-rake used in England, although I saw in operation implements for spreading hay from the swath to dry, or rather, perhaps, for turning it, drawn by horses.
There are other matters connected with English agriculture, upon which I might say a word or two. Crops are cultivated in England, of which we know little. The common English field bean, a small brown bean, growing not on a clinging vine, like some varieties of the taller bean, runs in what is called with us the bush form, like our common white bean, upon a slight, upright stalk, two or two and a half feet high, and producing from twenty to forty bushels to the acre. It is valuable as food for animals, especially for horses. This bean does not grow well in thin soils, or what is called a hot bottom. A strong, stiff, clayey land, well manured, suits it best. Vetches, or tares, a sort of pea, are very much cultivated in England, although almost unknown here, and are there either eaten green, by sheep, on the land, or cut and carried for green food.
The raising of sheep in England is an immense interest. England probably clips fifty millions of fleeces this year, lambs under a year old not being shorn. The average yield may be six or seven pounds to a fleece. There are two principal classes of sheep in England, the long-wooled and the short-wooled. Among these are many varieties, but this is the general division or classification. The Leicester and the South Down belong, respectively, to these several families. The common clip of the former may be estimated from seven to eight pounds; and of the last, from three to three and a half, or four. I mention these particulars only as estimates; and much more accurate information may doubtless be obtained from many writers. In New England, we are just beginning to estimate rightly the importance of raising sheep. England has seen it much earlier, and is pursuing it with far more zeal and perseverance. Our climate, as already observed, differs from that of England; but the great inquiry, applicable in equal force to both countries, is, How can we manage our land in order to produce the largest crops, while, at the same time, we keep up the condition of the land, and place it, if possible, in a course of gradual improvement? The success of farming must depend, in a considerable degree, upon the animals produced and supported on 455 the farm. The farmer may calculate, in respect to animals, upon two grounds of profit, the natural growth of the animal, and the weight obtained by fattening. The skilful farmer, therefore, expects, where he gains one pound in the fattening of his animal, to gain an equal amount in the growth. The early maturity of stock is consequently a point of much importance.
Oxen are rarely reared in England for the yoke. In Devonshire and Cornwall, ox teams are employed; but in travelling one thousand miles in England, I saw only one ox team, and in that case they were driven one before the other, and in harnesses similar to those of horses. Bullocks are raised for the market. It is highly desirable, therefore, both in respect to neat cattle and sheep, that their growth should be rapid, and their fattening properties favorable, that they may be early disposed of, and the expense of production proportionably lessened.
Is it practicable, on the soil and in the climate of Massachusetts, to pursue a succession of crops? I cannot question it; and I have entire confidence in the improvements to our husbandry, and the other great advantages, which would accrue from judicious rotation of products. The capacities of the soil of Massachusetts are undoubted. One hundred bushels of corn to an acre have been repeatedly produced, and other crops in like abundance. But this will not effect the proper ends of a judicious and profitable agriculture, unless we can so manage our husbandry that, by a judicious and proper succession of the crops, land will not only be restored after an exhausting crop, but gradually enriched by cultivation. It is of the highest importance that our farmers should increase their power of sustaining live stock, that they may obtain in that way the means of improving their farms.
The breed of cattle in England is greatly improved, and still improving. I have seen some of the best stocks, and many individual animals from others, and think them admirable. The short-horned cattle brought to this country are often very good specimens. I have seen the flocks from which some of them have been selected, and they are certainly among the best in England. But in every selection of stock, we are to regard our own climate, and our own circumstances. We raise oxen for work, as well as for beef; and I am of opinion that the Devonshire stock furnishes excellent animals for our use 456 We have suffered that old stock, brought hither by our ancestors, to run down, and be deteriorated. It has been kept up and greatly improved in England, and we may now usefully import from it. The Devonshire ox is a hardy animal, of size and make suited to the plough, and though certainly not the largest for beef, yet generally very well fattened. I think quite well, also, of the Ayrshire cows. They are good milkers, and, being a hardy race, are on that account well suited to a cold climate and to the coarse and sometimes scanty pasturage of New England. After all, I think there can be no doubt that the improved breed of short horns are the finest cattle in the world, and should be preferred wherever plenty of good fodder and some mildness of climate invite them. They are well fitted to the Western States, where there is an overflowing abundance, both of winter and summer fodder, and where, as in England, bullocks are raised for beef only. I have no doubt, also, that they might be advantageously raised in the rich valleys of the Connecticut, and perhaps in some other favored parts of the State. But for myself, as a farmer on the thin lands of Plymouth County, and on the bleak shores of the sea, I do not feel that I could give to animals of this breed that entertainment which their merit deserves.
As to sheep, the Leicesters are like the short-horned cattle. They must be kept well; they should always be fat; and, pressed by good keeping to early maturity, they are found very profitable. “Feed well,” was the maxim of the great Roman farmer, Cato; and that short sentence comprises much of all that belongs to the profitable economy of live stock. The South Downs are a good breed, both for wool and mutton. They crop the grass that grows on the thin soils, over beds of chalk, in Wiltshire, Hampshire, and Dorsetshire. They ought not to scorn the pastures of New England.